NINE
"So, where exactly are we going?" Tripley asked, sticking her head in through the curtain to the Winnebago's cockpit.
"Yogurt's," Lone Starr told her, "I need his advice on what to do with Shumway next. With the bounty Helmet's put on him, we really can't take him anywhere else right now."
"After watching him drive this thing earlier, I was really tempted to turn him in myself," Tripley admitted, "But thankfully for his sake, I can't remember Helmet's cell number."
"Neither can the rest of the galaxy, so don't feel bad," Lone Starr said, frowning as little as he thought over whether his sentence had made much sense. He glanced up at her. "So, like I asked earlier, did you ever marry?"
"No," Tripley plopped down in what was normally Barf's seat, "I couldn't find the right man. At least you found yours."
"Lately I've been questioning that choice," Lone Starr sighed, "Life after happily ever after isn't what it's made out to be."
"To be honest, I didn't think you'd last five weeks with Vespa once word of the wedding got out," Tripley told him, "What did you see in her?"
"Several things, most of which I can't say out loud here without alienating the younger readers," Lone Starr said, "To tell you the truth, Tripley, my relationship with Vespa at least on a passionate level is turning out to be a lot like Dan Versus Dave. It looked so great leading up to it, but it never materialized the way I'd hoped. I mean, on our honeymoon, everything looked so perfect—the moon was bright, the stars were shining, and the violinists Vespa requested for atmosphere outside the room played perfectly. And we did have the greatest possible sexual encounter that night—without actually having sex, that is. That's what it's like. Plus, being a prince isn't for me, I've realized too late."
"How you ever get accepted as a prince?" Tripley asked him.
"Remember my medallion?" Lone Starr pulled it up from his neck, "Yogurt told me it's a royal birth certificate. I'm a genuine prince."
"You should wash it more often," Tripley said.
"Well, I've been a bit busy lately, and the metalworkers won't…"
"Not the medallion, your neck," she said.
"Oh," Lone Starr said sheepishly, "Well, anyway, princeship isn't my cup of tea. I miss being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. And I'm not really that keen on succeeding King Roland. I love Druidia, but I don't want to be king."
"Well, it appears I was wrong," Tripley said, "Becoming royalty hasn't changed you at all. You're still the same Lone Starr I knew all those years ago."
"Thanks," Lone Starr forced a smile. Before the conversation could go any further, Alf strolled into the cockpit. "Hey Lone Starr, once we're done with Yogurt, we've got to stop at the nearest appliance dealer," he told the hero.
"Why?" Lone Starr frowned.
"You need a new fridge," Alf told him.
"Why? Is it broken?"
"It's gone," Tripley glanced back to see it missing.
"What did you do with it, Gordon?" Lone Starr asked the Melmacian.
"Well, you see, I couldn't break the lock to get the snack I wanted, so I…well, let's just say I more than fulfilled my iron requirement for the day,' Alf said, unable to stop a burp from erupting from his stomach.
"You ate my refrigerator?" Lone Starr jumped to his feet, "All our food was in there! What the hell are the rest of us going to eat now?"
"I was thinking Yogurt could answer that when we drop by his place," Alf told him, "Now if you'll excuse me, I was watching SCTV with Brian and Barf."
He strolled back to the rear of the Winnebago. "SCTV?" Lone Starr looked at his former love, "They actually get the feed from this part of the galaxy?"
Riotous laughter told him this was indeed the case. "I'll handle it," Tripley said. She strode back to find everyone lounged in easy chairs. "Wanna join us, Trip?" Barf said, offering a busted lawn chair for her.
"Dr. Cheryl Kinsey's going to tell us how to fake orgasms," Brian added.
"And you're actually letting a kid his age watch something like that?" Tripley gave the mawg and Melmacian harsh glares.
"Well it's a great show," Barf protested, "He's going to love the bit coming up where Johnny LaRue tries to host his own telethon…or was that Dr. Tongue?"
"And it exposes him to a new way of thinking that is usually denied the average eight year old on the Planet Earth," Alf patted Brian on the shoulder.
Tripley let out an aggravated groan. "You know something, Shumway, you're not just a terrible comedian, you're a terrible moralist. We're trying to stop the Spaceballs from killing innocent people, and you're sitting back here and watching old sketch shows!" she berated him, "And on top of that you eat not just all the food on this camper but the fridge too! Melmacians may have been a silly group of being, but you put them all to shame!"
"And happy Valentine's Day to you too, Cupid," Alf responded.
"Alf's not bad," Brian put his hand around the alien, "He's my best friend in the whole universe. He makes mistakes, but he cares deep down. Even when he screws up…which seems to happen a lot."
"You see Tripley, appearances are skin deep," Alf said triumphantly, "As a matter of fact, I've been worried sick about my adopted Earth family ever since Helmet carted them off, and believe you me, I've been pondering some new strategies that'll make old Tinhead's glasses crack. Let's just hope they survive incarceration for us to save them. Incidentally, I wonder how they're holding up."
"Look straight ahead toward the camera," the commandant of Prison Ball 37 on Spaceball City told the Tanners inside their holding cell. He turned to the gigantic camera at the other end of the room and gave the cameraman a thumbs-up. A blinding flash filled the room. "Ouch!" Willie groaned, trying to shield his eyes, "What are you trying to do, blind us?"
"That's a side effect that happens a lot, yes," the commandant said, "Now on your feet and into the next room so you can receive your incarceration instructions."
A trio of guards hauled the Tanners to their feet from the stools they'd been sitting and forced them into a small theater. "Let me guess, some corny cartoon," Kate mumbled.
"Sit down," the guards forced them into seats. "Roll it, Ares," the commandant instructed the projectionist. The screen lit up with an overly bubbly stewardess standing near the entrance to the prison ball. "Welcome to the Spaceball City Prison Complex," she announced in a happy voice, "On behalf of President Skroob and his entire cabinet, thank you for being arrested. You will now be entering the incarceration phase of your punishment. Sit back and relax while we tell you about the cells and prison ball in which you'll probably spend the rest of your natural life."
"This seals it," Willie whispered, "We're never flying on another airplane again. From now on we take the train."
"Quiet while the film's rolling," a guard whacked him in the back of the head.
"You will be kept in this eight foot by twelve foot stainless steel cell," the stewardess said as the images flowed on the screen behind her. "Please note that in the case of multiple people in one cell, only one of you will get the comfort of a bed. Your cell is watched through our closed-circuit camera system, which ensures that any attempt on your part to escape will meet with a quick and painful death. Guards will be posted outside your cell at all times, and will be more than happy to come in and blow you away at the slightest hint of trouble on your part."
"They pay us good for doing it," a guard added from the rear of the theater.
"Shhhhhhhh!" hissed the commandant.
"Exit are clearly marked throughout the prison ball," the stewardess went on, "But you will never be using them. Should you try to use them, you will be shot. In the event of fire, stay in your cells and let it burn you alive. Meals will come once a week, unless you misbehave, at which point you will be starved to death. Please remember that bathroom time is not the time to discuss escape plans. Our friendly and courteous guards will be happy to beat your face in, crush your fingers, or otherwise abuse you any time they feel like it. We hope you've enjoyed this presentation. We also hope you'll enjoy your stay here at the Spaceball City Prison Complex. Have a nice life sentence.."
"You people will be pleased to know that President Skroob has requested you be present tomorrow for the testing of our T.A.R.G.E.T. system," the commandant announced as the film ended.
"Why?" Lynn asked.
"He didn't say," the commandant admitted, "In the meantime, we'll now take you to your new home. Velono, if you please."
The guards led the Tanners down several long hallways to an open cell. "Here you go," the one named Velono said, shoving them all inside, "Sleep well."
The door slammed shut behind them. "OK, let's stay calm," Willie said, glancing around the cell's sub par furnishings, "I'm sure there's a way we can get out of here."
"Not so loud, Dad," Lynn told him, "The walls have ears."
She pointed to the innumerable human ears painted on the cell's walls. "Don't you get literal on me too," Willie groaned.
"Well, at least we know Brian's safe back on Earth," Kate slumped down on the cell's single cot, "It would have been heartbreaking for him to have been dragged into this as well. I hope he went to the police, or at least the Ochmoneks."
"Well, it's too bad Alf had to bring these people along so we'd be separated from our son," Willie grumbled, "If they don't finish him off, I will."
"Say pal, you talking about Gordo?" came a familiar voice from the adjoining cell through the air vent. "Wait a minute, I know you," Willie walked over, "It's Chip, right?"
"Skip," the Melmacian corrected him, "Where is Gordo? Is he still out of Helmet's clutches?"
"Oh, so you're Skip?" Kate joined her husband by the vent, "Well Skip, I've got just one thing to ask you: WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU PICK ALF UP WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!"
"Hey lady, I did all I could; it was his choice not to come," Skip told her, "Why do you call him Alf anyway?"
"It's A-L-F, Alien Life Form," Willie explained, "We didn't know his name was Gordon when he crashed into…oh my God, what have they done to you?" he'd noticed that Skip no longer had any hair, a fact which caused the alien to scrunch down in shame. "They shaved off our hair. All our hair," he admitted, "They need it for their big bomb. Melmacian hair explodes violently in the wrong mix."
"Then explain to me why Alf—Gordon—wanted to invite these Spacebags down to Earth," Willie demanded.
"It's SpaceBALLS, bozo, get it right," Skip corrected him, "And Gordo didn't invite them. The day any Spaceball gets friendly with him is the days Melmac's sky turns blue…well, if there was still a Melmac, anyway."
"Why?" Lynn asked.
"Well, it's a really long story, but I think I'd better tell you anyway, so I'll let them start the next chapter while I do," Skip said, "Basically, you have to know Gordo. As a kid, he…"
