FOUR

"I have an announcement I think you all might be interested in," Willie told the family as they sat around the table at dinner, "My office is sponsoring a Halloween party on the thirty-first, so you're all welcome to join me there. We'll have lots of food and entertainment, so…"

"Sounds great, Willie," Alf cut him off, "I'll go as Roof the Two-Headed Nurse. Let me check the costume shops on E-bay and see…."

"Alf, you can't go as Roof the Two-Headed Nurse," Willie interrupted him in return, "In fact, you can't go at all, period."

"It's a costume party, Willie, no one's going to notice or care," the alien said, "All right, if I can't be Roof, let me at least be the Headless Horseman. From what I can tell, he's sort of the symbol of Halloween down here."

"Alf, we are not going out of our way to buy you a horse," Kate sighed, frustrated, "We're all sorry you feel this way, but that's just the way it has to be."

"Oh sure, constrain the poor helpless alien," Alf said sarcastically as he wolfed down his latest helping of macaroni.

"In the meantime," Willie continued, "You know what we expect from you here at the house. No trashing it and no attracting attention to yourself. I've noticed the Ochmoneks have been especially snoopy lately, and even though it's Halloween, they're still apt to call the cops if they see a stranger in here."

"Sounds good to me, Willie," Alf said, "Apart from the fact that leaves me with practically nothing to do."

"Well, there's plenty for you to do here, Alf," Lynn tried to console him, "You can watch the TV and….well, watch the TV, and….uh…"

"Point made," Alf said, "There's only so much a couch potato can take on the tube. Even Dr. Phil's getting boring nowadays."

"Alf, just promise you won't do anything that'll embarrass us," Willie goaded him.

"You have my word," Alf told him, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have finish working on my latest screenplay."

"You're not writing a screenplay," Kate pointed out as her houseguest hopped down and trudged toward the garage.

"Exactly," Alf called back.

"Mom, Dad, are you sure we can't take him with us?" Brian asked, looking after his friend with concern.

"Honey, I know it's probably tough on Alf being here alone all the time, but it's just a risk we'll have to take," Kate told her son.

"Assuming he doesn't eat us out of house and home," Lynn pointed out.

"True," Kate agreed, "Willie, we'll have to lock all the excess food up before we go."

"Right," Willie nodded, "We'll get on it later tonight."

In the meantime, Alf entered the garage, feeling more left out than ever. He leaned on the table, on which Willie's radio now sat fully repaired. Things had never been this dull back on Melmac. What he wouldn't give for just a little chance of excitement one more time…

And then he heard the buzzing coming from Willie's radio. "S.O.S.!!" shouted a strangely familiar voice, "S.O.S., can anyone hear me?"

Alf's heart leapt at the sound of the imperiled person. He ran over to the radio and flicked it on full. "Skip, is that you!?" he asked across the cosmos.

"Gordo!" his old friend from Melmac called back. Even from where he was standing, Alf could here the sound of laser blasts being fired. "Skip, what's going on?" he asked.

"They're after us, Gordo!" Skip told him breathlessly, "They attacked New Melmac, and they've been chasing us since Algol! We can't outrun them anymore…you can't parachute, Rhonda, there's no air!"

"Rhonda's with you?" Alf felt another breeze of emotion at the mention of the love of his former life, "They haven't hurt her, have they? By the way, who are they?"

"It's Helmet, Gordo, he's coming after…Oh my God, they've started the tractor beam!!" Skip screamed. Alf could now hear a low humming in the background. "Dark Helmet?" he asked, "He got off the Planet of the Apes? I thought the intergalactic…"

More screaming caused him to stop mid-stream. "They're coming for you next, Gordon, save yourself!" he could hear Rhonda screaming at the radio, "If Helmet finds you, it's…"

And then the line went dead. "Hello!?" Alf called into it, "Rhonda, Skip, you still there?" There was no answer. Alf rushed to the window and looked up at the still light sky. "Of all the terrible fates," he said softly, "Taken by Dark Helmet. If he gives her a nose job, I'll twist his upside-down."

He thought over all he'd heard. If the Spaceballs were coming for him next as Rhonda had said, he had to protect himself somehow. But how?

"There's safety in numbers," he said out loud. But he'd be largely alone for the next couple of days. Even though he'd seen Home Alone numerous times, he knew that even the most elaborately rigged booby traps would be unlikely to stop three hundred or so heavily armed Spaceballs. And there wouldn't be many places to hide. Unless…

"I've got to make the house bigger and add more rooms," he resolved. And he had to do it quickly and without the Tanners asking too many questions. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he picked up Willie's cell phone from where it lay on the table and dialed a number he'd just happened to have memorized in the phone book. "Hello, Elton's Construction?" he asked into it, "Listen, I've got a special Halloween job for you. Send down your best crew as discreetly as you can on Halloween morning at about eight twenty. If you can do what I'm asking in seven hours or less, I'll give you an extra bonus. Now what I have in mind is…"


Several hundred miles away at the headquarters of the Alien Task Force, a corporal ran into General Darnell Valentine's office. "Sir, we've just locked onto an interesting transmission from the Small Magellanic Cloud," he announced.

"What is it?" Valentine asked him.

"Show him the tape, guys," the corporal called to two of his associates, who came back in wheeling a large tape recorder. They hit Play, and the entire conversation between Alf and his friends echoed through the halls. "The call was answered somewhere in the Los Angeles area," the corporal said once it was done, "But we couldn't get a sure trace."

"I've got a reasonably good idea," Valentine said, rising to his feet, "It's probably that same area that we keep going into every time we get a report of some kind. We'll scramble all units for intercept on Halloween night."

"But that's two nights away, sir," the corporal pointed out.

"Exactly," Valentine said, "It'll be more symbolic if we catch them on a national holiday. And besides, we'll get paid extra for it.'


Helmet, Cuckoo, and Sandurz strolled casually into Spaceball 2's docking bay. The Melmacian ship was just being pulled in. As usual, Spaceball guards surrounded the ship on all sides, making it virtually impossible for the Melmacians to have even a remote chance of escape. "Well Master," Cuckoo drawled, "We finally have them under our thumb. Let me shave them from head to toe."

He pulled out a large electric razor and revved it up. "Momentarily, Cuckoo," Helmet told his apprentice, "First I need to inform them of their dire fate."

He started toward the stairs. "So, you lowly Mel—…" he started to say, but unexpectedly tripped and fell down the last several steps. "Nobody saw that!" he yelled to all his guards.

"SAW WHAT, SIR!??" they all asked, promptly covering their crotches.

"Exactly," Helmet said, pleased. He picked himself and walked over to the Melmacians' ship's hatch. "So, you lowly Melmacians," he continued, "You thought you could outrun the imperious forces of Planet Spaceball? Well you were wrong. In due time, we will be converting all your hair into our ultimate weapon of destruction, while you will spend the rest of your miserable, worthless days eking out a living in one of our beautiful serfdom forced labor camps."

"Why serf labor and not slave labor?" Cuckoo whispered to Sandurz.

"Slaves Union wants too much for their services," Sandurz whispered back, "We have a good relationship with the Serfs Union; they don't ask for overtime pay or vacation time. I can't understand labor relations at all."

Helmet, in the meantime, yanked open the hatch, which promptly caught him in the chin and sent him reeling again. All the guards turned away until he recovered. "Out of there, all of you!" he barked, gesturing with his Schwartz. About a dozen Melmacians crawled out, their hands in the air. "Who were you contacting before we brought you in?" Helmet demanded to the captain.

"You must be deaf, Helmet, we weren't calling anyone," Skip said evasively.

"Don't try to lie to us," Sandurz skipped toward them, "We caught you on tape; you wouldn't happen to be warning a certain person named Gordo, would you?"

"It doesn't matter what you know," Rhonda spoke up passionately, "You'll never catch Gordon! He's the best Melmacian in the galaxy! He managed to survive Melmac's explosion, so he'll survive whatever you throw at him. He's resourceful, he's witty, he's…!!"

"Enough!" Helmet bellowed, "Cuckoo, get them all down to the barber shop! We're going to show them that our brand of justice is a 'cut' above the rest!!"

"Yes, Master," Cuckoo activated his four-sided Schwartz. "Start walking!" he ordered their captives. Aided by the guards, he herded the Melmacians out of the bay. Once everyone was gone, Helmet yanked up his visor. "Gordon? Gordon Shumway?" he asked out loud, "Damn, I wish the explosion had killed him!"

"My thoughts exactly, sir," Sandurz added, wincing, "His nightclub act was just plain awful."

"It's bloodlines," Helmet said, "All those Shumways were annoying idiots. From what I here the warden says about his parents in Cellblock C-9…"

"Well, anyway, if it's Gordon Shumway we're after next, we're going to need more help," Helmet said dramatically, "Sandurz, once we've looked onto the planet he's hiding out on, place a call to the best bounty hunter in the galaxy."

"You don't mean…?" Sandurz gasped.

"yes," Helmet said, "Get me….Jingo Belz."