Billboard in Space

“I can’t believe this!” I glared at my brother, as the two of us made our walk of shame through the casino’s parking lot.

“Look on the brightside, little bro-.”

“What do you mean, ‘brightside’?” I immediately halted in place. “I have a bomb inside of me and the Space IRS wants to arrest you! This day only seems to be getting worse by the second.”

“Just chill, I’ll think of something to get us out of this.” Randy attempted to calm me down.

“How? We don’t have stollar left to our name!” I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. My Brother’s nonchalant attitude toward our situation was pushing my patients to their limits. “Duck!” I shouted as I stamped my foot down onto the pavement.

Randy looked at me with shock. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear, little bro.”

“What do you expect!? If we don’t get 750,000 stollars within the next three months, I’m going to explode and you're going to prison!” My hands were shaking and my chest felt tight, as anxiety was overtaking me. I became lightheaded and suddenly felt my legs go limp.

Randy grabbed me by the arm, preventing me from collapsing to the ground. “Freaking out isn’t going to solve anything. Do me a favor and take a deep breath.”

Inhaling in and exhaling out, I managed to regain my composure. “Alright, I think I can stand on my own now.”

As my brother released his grip on me, he looked at me sternly. “Listen little bro, you just have to trust me. I promise you that I’ll fix this.”

“But how though? It's not like the solution to our problems is just going to be plastered to the side of a billboard.” I continued to cast my doubt.

He let out a chuckle. “I already told you once today that butts are for cra-.” He suddenly paused. “Do me a favor and say that last part again.”

I looked at him confused. “It's not like the solution to our problems is just going to be plastered to the side of a billbo-.”

“I think you're actually wrong, little bro.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around.

“What the heck are you talking abou-...” For a second I thought I was imagining things, but by a stroke of fate, it seemed like the solution to our problems was staring us right in the eye…

Floating around in space, just outside the domed city of Space Las Vegas, was an asteroid with a mile wide billboard staked into it. Printed on the billboard was a massive QR code with a red arrow pointing to it and bold text that read, ‘Food Truck Operators Scan Here!’.

Randy pointed excitedly. “Quick, get out your holo-phone before it passes by!”

Fumbling around in my pocket, I pulled my phone out and quickly flipped on the camera. After scanning the code, it opened up my browser and brought us to a web page. As soon as the page loaded, a video began to play.

“Guys, this game is actually real.” A tts voice spoke as some gameplay for a crappy mobile game of a guy shooting hordes of zombies played.

“Remind me to download that on your phone later.” Randy noted.

“Now’s not the time… also quit installing scam games on my phone.” After the five seconds were up, I pressed the skip button on the ad with my thumb.

Now the real video actually started playing…

“The Galactic Food Channel presents: The Galaxy’s Next Top Food Truck Idol!” An obnoxious male voice narrated over a bad CGI rendering of a generic food truck flying around in space. “A new show where six teams of two will compete their food trucks in head to head challenges to determine who gets title of the Galaxy’s Next Top Food Truck Idol and the grand prize of one million stollars.” Golden stollar signs flashed across the screen.

“This is perfect. With our burgers, that one million stollars is as good as ours!” Randy was practically levitating, he was so fired up. “Now how the heck do we get on this sho-.”

Before he could finish, the video’s narrator chimed back on. “If you think your food truck has what it takes, auditions will be held this Tuesday in Space Hollywood. See below for details…”

Scrolling down below the video there was the venue’s address, along with a digital registration form.

“Well, little bro, it looks like we’re going to Space Hollywood.” He slapped my back.

“Wait a second, there’s a link for some additional information.” I pressed the hyperlink, which brought me to another page. “So it looks like auditions are going to take place in front of a panel of three judges.”

Randy nodded confidently. “Good, as soon as those judges taste our burgers, we’ll have them eating out of our hands both figuratively and literally. Winning that money will be a walk in the park.”

“I wouldn’t get too cocky.” I scrolled further through the webpage. “Says here that taste isn’t the only criteria the judges will be looking at. They’re also going to judge our presentation, food truck’s appearance, and the ‘it factor’, whatever that means.”

“I still don’t see the issue. From what I can tell, we have all those things.”

“I don’t know about that…” I looked over toward our rusted food truck that was crookedly parked. “Our ship isn’t exactly in the best condition and our business isn’t always run the most professionally.”

He walked over and slapped the hood of our ship. “Don’t be ridiculous, little bro. Our ship is just a bit retro and we just use a bit more unorthodox tactics than other businesses.”

I shook my head. “Still though, we’re trying to get on national TV. We should try our hardest to make a good impression. Honestly, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get a second opinion on this whole situation.”

“A second opinion? We don’t need no sec-.” Randy suddenly paused, as a mischievous grin came across his face. “I see what’s going on. You just want an excuse to pay your little girlfriend a visit.”

“N-no, that's not what I was implying… but getting her opinion might not be a bad idea.” I nervously stammered.

“Uh huh, sure.” He chuckled. “Alright if that’s what you want to do, then let's head out.”

Loading up into our ship, I braced myself for the usually bumpy ride, as my brother launched us back toward Space Chicago…