Pep Talk in Space

It was currently Friday at 4:14 P.M.. Our ship idly orbited the country music capital of the galaxy known as Space Nashville. Similar to Space Chicago, it too was a domed city sitting on a platform, which orbited the planet Shevy near the center of the galaxy.

Randy stood before Mindy and I in the ship's cargo hold. He went into a pep talk. "This is it. Tomorrow we realize our destinies as we charge head first into battle." He looked at me. "Little bro, we've been in this together from the beginning. I have no doubt that I can count on you to...uh... do whatever it is you do."

I still had no idea what that was, considering he refused to let anyone except for himself touch the cooking equipment. My role seemed to only ever be getting dressed in strange outfits against my will and getting attacked by fast food mascots.

Next, he turned to Mindy. "And you, accountant chick, I know we've only known you for a short while, but I know you're probably good with numbers or something."

Mindy had a confused look on her face. "That doesn't tell me anything. It's been three days and I still have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing to help you guys."

Randy held up a coat hanger with a red and white cheerleader outfit. "I-."

"Not happening." She wouldn't even let Randy start his sentence.

Randy huffed, as he shook his head. "I already bought a different outfit for my little bro and your mom couldn't make it tomorrow because she was busy. Someone needs to wear it."

"Wait, what outfit?" I responded.

"Wait, you invited my mom!?" Mindy spoke simultaneously as I did.

"This outfit." He held up another coat hanger. "And yes I chatted with Mandy over the phone yesterday. She really wanted to help, but she was busy with a photoshoo-."

Mindy gut punched Randy once again. "Quit trying to get close to my mom! It's weird."

"There's nothing weird about true love." He spoke, doubled over.

I turned my attention back to the outfit. "What even is that supposed to be?"

Randy took a deep breath as he recovered. "You're going to be our Worgan Mallen impersonator."

I looked at him confused. "That's just a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a snapback hat. I don't even look anything like him."

"I know that... that's why I got this fake mustache."

"You've lost me, Randy. What's the point of this."

He snapped his fingers, and before I knew it, I was in the outfit with my hair pushed back under the snapback and the fake mustache plastered to my face. A set of cowboy boots somehow even manifested on my feet as well.

"It's simple, your job is going to be luring people away from that dumb duck's sushi. There should be plenty of drunk country music fans. You just need to convince them that you're the real Worgan Mallen." He opened up the compartment under our floor panels and pulled out a bright green arrow shaped sign that read, "The Official Burger of Worgan Mallen." "You're going to need this too." He forced it into my hands.

"Isn't this both identity theft and false advertisement?"

He brushed me off. "Our enemy is probably using mind control. We need to be willing to play dirty too." He pointed to Mindy. "Accountant chick, you're a Worgan Mallen fan. What do you think?"

Mindy came up unexpectedly close to me and stared me in the face. She tilted her head from side to side. "Hmm. I don't know..." She took her hand and straightened my slightly crooked phony mustache. Being unable to keep myself from blushing, I hung my head and avoided eye contact with her. She squinted her eyes. "I guess maybe he could pass to someone who wasn't sober."

"Great, now about that cheerleader outfit… Have you ever heard of a little thing called fanserv-."

"No, I already told you I'm not wearing that!" She snapped at him.

Randy rolled his eyes and groaned. "Fine, you can be in charge of taking orders and working the register... I really wish your mom was here." He mumbled that last part under his breath, which was met by a flying knee to the groan.

He grabbed his injured crotch. "'team', on the count of three." His voice was slightly higher pitched. "One... Two... Th-."

"I still have some concerns." I interrupted him.

"I said on the count of three." He repeated, ignoring me. "One... Two... Three..."

"Team." Mindy and I responded unenthusiastically.

Whether Mindy and I liked it or not, Randy was determined to win this thing his way. Unfortunately, that was my main concern...

🍔🍔🍔

At roughly 5:00 P.M., Randy touched the ship down on the parking lot in front of the huge stadium where the concert was taking place. Completely ignoring the signs, he parked us sideways, taking up two handicap parking spots.

He rolled down his driver's side window and inhaled deeply. "You smell that? That's the smell of country music."

I sniffed the air. "All I smell is manure."

"Exactly." He nodded.

I supposed he did have a point, considering we were in the middle of a metropolitan area and there weren't any farms around. The smell was seemingly manifesting out of nowhere.

He took one look around the empty parking lot and burst out laughing. "Looks like that ducker chickened out."

I pointed up to the sky. "I wouldn't say that, Randy."

Appearing above us was the chromed out sushi truck. It descended from the sky like a knife through butter, unlike our death trap of a ship, which felt like it was going to fall apart everytime it so much as moved.

Silently, the sushi truck landed across the lot from us. Its 3D holographic mascot blinked on and the service window flipped open, revealing the trench coat guy.

Both him and Randy exited their ships and made their way to the halfway point of the parking lot.

"If you quit now, maybe I'll show mercy to you, jacket bro." Randy taunted him.

The trench coat guy maintained his usual calm demeanor. "That won't be necessary. I'm sure my sushi will be a hit here just like anywhere else."

My brother rolled his eyes. "Where the heck is that third party official? I'm already sick of staring at your stupid covered face."

Right as he said that, a flying saucer shaped spacecraft zoomed into the stadium's airspace. While it hovered above, a green beam of light came from an opening in the bottom and a figure slowly levitated down to the surface.

"Did somebody hire a referee service? Beep bop." A robot, dressed in a black and white striped referee jersey said, as it was plopped down between the two of them.

Randy snapped his fingers and pointed at the robot. "Sure did, robo-bro."

"I swear, they have a service for everything nowadays." I muttered to Mindy, while the two of us stood behind Randy.

"Alright, I will lay out the agreed upon rules, since all parties are present. Beep bop." A block of text began scrolling over the robot's face screen. "At exactly one hour prior to the start of the concert, a starting pistol will be fired off, signalling the start of the competition. Beep bop." An animated gun firing, momentarily popped up on its screen. "Both businesses will have one hour to try and draw in as many customers as possible. The end of the contest will be signalled by the following noise. Beep bop." The robot played an air horn sound through its speakers. "The food truck that received the most customers in the hour will be crowned the winner. To ensure patrons are counted fairly, these cameras that are linked to my optical processors, will be installed at your service windows. Do both parties consent to these terms? Beep bob."

"I agree." Trench coat guy responded.

"Sure, just be ready to mop up this loser's tears when I destroy him." Randy gloated while agreeing as well.

"Excellent, both your responses have been recorded. The contest will commence in approximately fifty three minutes. Beep bop." A timer, that was counting down in minutes and seconds, popped up on the robo-refs face.

"Get your pee breaks in now, you two. Things are about to get intense." Randy proclaimed as we stood in front of our ship.

I really hoped that Randy was going to take this seriously. With this venue, we had a slight advantage, but that wasn't to say the trench coat guy was to be underestimated. If we lost, our business was over.