Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism by Mort Gloss
Chapter 4 - Nosebleed
Victory's Plight Is Revealed; Balloon
Idiotically Tries to Help Her
Ned Gold, and his tremendously ugly daughter Victory, traveled in his Buick toward Midland Memorial Hospital. Although the brown leather steering wheel was tilted up as high as it could go, Victory's flesh still piled over its base. Ned sat oblivious in the passenger seat, a large wad of blood-stained toilet paper crammed into his right nostril. Due to his reoccurring and increasingly violent nosebleeds, Ned was receiving treatment from Larry Paxel, M.D., an ear, nose, and throat specialist.
"What time are we supposed to be there?" asked Victory, although she knew exactly when her father's appointment was.
"9:30."
"Were you supposed to bring anything with you?" asked Victory, knowing full well he didn't need to bring anything.
"Like what?" Ned asked, annoyed. "I brought money and my nose. I'm sure that's all he needs to see."
"Yeah, I guess that's right," responded Victory. Her typical furrowed-brow expression-which she endowed upon all other members of the human race-seemed to vanish when dealing with her father. She instead exhibited a nervous apprehension when talking to him. Throughout her life, he had rarely spoken to her unless she initiated the conversation. As a consequence, Victory constantly attempted to fill the awkward silence with useless banter. This conversational tactic only worked to annoy Ned, and he usually rewarded his daughter with sharp words or no reply at all.
Although he would never admit it, Ned Gold detested his daughter. He had always-at least subconsciously-blamed Victory for the death of his one and only true love. Ned married his high school sweetheart, Claudia Thompson, soon after their graduation. Two years later, Claudia gave birth to Ned's first and last born child: Victoria Gold. Victory's birth weight of fifteen pounds, three ounces destroyed the previous record at Midland Memorial Hospital. Unfortunately, Victory's immensity also destroyed her mother's uterus, causing Claudia to bleed uncontrollably. Claudia Gold's last living act was to gaze upon the fruit of her womb. The combination of blood loss and horror killed her instantly.
For the first four years of Victory's life, Ned constantly made and unmade plans to put her up for adoption. Deep down, however, Ned was a decent man. And in the end, it was his decency that prevented him from inflicting Victory on would-be adoptive parents; it was his decency that tolerated her incomprehensible ugliness; it was his decency that fed her insatiable appetite; it was his decency that propelled him to buy a Buick large enough to fit his daughter's ever-increasing mass. He tried to date other women after Claudia's death, but each potential love interest was genuinely terrified by the prospect of a life with Victory. As a result, Ned lived in miserable loneliness. Because he did not have the courage to take his own life, Ned constantly prayed for death, excited by the prospect of honorably abandoning his daughter, vaguely believing he could somehow be reunited with his beloved Claudia.
"So what do you think the doctor will say?" said Victory, again attempting to get some kind of conversation going.
"How should I know? He can say whatever he wants. He'll probably make some wild guess about what's wrong, throw some meaningless statistics at me, take my money, and tell me to come back in a week for some more of the same."
"He should have the test results."
"Test results. What a load of garbage. Every test has the same two results: 'inconclusive' and a fat bill."
Victory decided to make Ned more comfortable by abandoning her conversational attempts and turning up the volume on her father's AM radio. Eventually, the Golds arrived at Midland Memorial Hospital and made their way to Dr. Paxel's office on the second floor.
"Mr. Gold, I've had an opportunity to look over your test results," said Dr. Paxel, peering at Ned over the top of his black-rimmed spectacles. Ned sat upright on the paper-covered examination table, his bald head ornamented with the leftover toilet tissue hanging out his nose.
"And?" replied Ned.
"The results ... are difficult," explained Dr. Paxel, shifting his eyes to the manila folder he held in his hand. "It appears you have some type of infection, manifested by a gelatinous substance around the internal nasus and both the left and right cerebral hemispheres."
"Around what?" asked Ned, angered by Dr. Paxel's needless use of technical terms.
"Your nose and your brain."
"Oh. Okay. And you think it's an infection?"
"I don't know what it is for sure. It could be viral, bacterial, fungal, or perhaps degenerative. I've never seen anything like it. If I had to venture a guess, I would predict it's brought on by some type of autoimmune deficiency. Whatever it is, it's serious."
"Am I going to die?" asked Ned, attempting to hide his eagerness for an affirmative response.
"The test results are inconclusive on that question. This jelly-like substance around the interior region of your nose is-somehow-applying undue pressure to the area, and therefore causing the nosebleeds. If it applies that same pressure to your brain, you may be in trouble. However, I don't want you to worry at this point. Statistically speaking, less than one percent of unknown diseases tend to be fatal. We'll need to run more tests in order to figure out just what's causing all of this. Can you come back next week?"
"I guess. If you think it's necessary."
"Yes, I need you back here for more testing. When you make payment on the way out, be sure to reschedule for next Thursday."
"Yes. Of course. And doctor, is there anything you can give me to help stop the nosebleeds in the meantime? It's getting so I can't really even go anywhere, by myself anyway." Ned quickly moved his eyes to Victory, and back to Dr. Paxel.
"Well, I can prescribe some nasus towelettes if you'd like. However, I want to avoid prescribing any medication that may disturb the interior makeup of the substance we're seeing."
"What's a nasus towelette?"
"It's a cloth specifically designed to catch blood flow from the nose."
"Don't worry about it. I'll just stick with the toilet paper."
After paying some hundreds for the inconclusive testing and doctor visit, Ned joined Victory in the Buick. Although he had been irritable on the way in, he now wore a smile on his bald head. "Victoria, you won't need to bring me back here next week. I'm not coming back. Whatever this jelly disease is, I have a feeling it's incurable, and that I'm not going to make it." He spoke casually, as if he were discussing some piece of world news occurring thousands of miles away. As Victory pulled out of the parking lot, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and grinned.
"What do you mean incurable? Dr. Paxel didn't say that. He doesn't even know what it is. You need to come back and do the other tests."
"I don't need to do anything. I can live my life and die my death however I want. I'm not going to spend the rest of my days sitting in Dr. Paxel's office while he pokes and prods and gets all his cronies to look at my messed-up head. Just let me be, Victoria. I'll leave enough money to take care of the funeral and all that. Don't worry."
Victory didn't know how to respond. Tears started to trickle down her red, puffed-up cheeks as she snuffled loudly.
"Oh come on, Victoria. You don't need to do this. I'm not even dead yet. Save all that crying for later. Your mom died; I'm going to die; someday you'll die; eventually everybody in this whole miserable world will be dead! That ridiculous crying isn't going to change it." Ned was doing his best to be delicate, but he knew he was failing. His preference was to say no more, but his decency demanded he attempt to comfort his daughter one more time. "Victory, this isn't easy for me to say, but I want to tell you that-"
"No! Quit talking about it," yelled Victory, her thunderous voice shaking the dashboard of the Buick. "You're not going to die. You're going to fight through it, even if you'd rather give up! You're going to the doctor next week and you're going to do everything he says!" Victory ranted belligerently. "I don't want to hear another word about your death until