The Revenge of Blimp Hanlon

My pal Blimp hates band practice. The bandmaster, Mr Weigel is apparently a bad-tempered tyrant. So much so that Blimp, who rarely practices his horn, positively dreads Monday and Wednesday nights.
But there is one compensating factor.
"She's beautiful, Katy." Blimp told me the other day. "And I even think she might like me a little. There's just one problem."
"What's that?" I asked him.
"Her father is the minister over at the United Church."
"Oh." I said. I saw what he meant.
Blimp , you see, has a problem with authority figures. And they in turn have a problem with him. The bandmaster, Mr Cram at school, Alanna's dad at church and Constable Able Billings of the local police force are naming but a few of the people in town who would sleep sounder in their beds at night if Blimp were not a part of their life during the day.
This story concerns a string of encounters Blimp had recently with Billings who is a man who takes his job and himself very seriously. How many times have I seen his moustache positively bristle when Blimp goes sauntering by, blithe and serene.
But I'd best go back to the beginning.
Blimp is deeply and painfully in love with a pretty young lass named Alanna Stevenson. In Mr Cram's class at school she sits three desks up and on aisle over. She is easy to spot with her crest of neon pink hair so like that of a cockatoo.
He also meets her Monday and Wednesday nights at band practice. She plays flute down front beneath the vigorous sweep of Mr Weigel's baton while Blimp blows trombone safely out of reach up at the back of the hall by the big old Ludwig bass drum.
Each day he loyally watches her answer her questions in school and he yearns for her in the evenings as she plays her flute with lips pursed so prettily. He would cheerfully do most anything to attract her attention and therein lies the rub,for Blimp is a natural ham.
The whole trouble with Billings started last year at the Frontier Days Parade. Picture the scene:
It is July 1st, a Saturday, and the whole town throngs Central Avenue. Smiling mothers with their infants in strollers exchange greetings. Older kids ride gaily bestreamered bikes. Smiling girls wave from lavishly decorated floats. Laughing or glum-faced clowns from the Elks, Lions and Rotary Clubs run up and down the street tossing peanuts and candy and handing red, green, yellow and blue balloons to the kiddies. Brassy regimental bands from surrounding communities go pounding by to the beat of loud drums. Older boys and girls in cowboy hats and western gear ride well-groomed horses and bustling vendors dispense popcorn, hot dogs and pink lemonade. The sun glints off brazen bugles.
But who is that poor unfortunate having his plum coloured bike impounded out from under him by Able Billings for popping wheelies in front of the Mayor's platform? Not my best friend Blimp, surely? The very same! Hauled off to chokey by the scruff of his neck and his poor grandma looking on so mortified. Oh the shame of it all!
And who is that pretty young miss with the crest of bright pink hair sitting demurely beside her father on the platform loyally trying to take no notice as the crowd jeers and boos her fallen champion? Of course. It is Reverend Stevenson's girl Alanna.
And so you see.
Blimp got his bike back eventually but he wanted a lot more than that you may be sure.
There were other encounters, equally unfortunate. About a month ago, after an early supper, Blimp was on his way down to band practice. 'About the only thing encouraging about that' he reflected 'was that he just might see Alanna.'
His way took him past the cop shop and as fate would have it who should be striding down the sidewalk towards him as he strolled along with his horn slung over one shoulder but the man of the hour Able Billings.
Each spied the other at about the same time and it was a case of mutual sparks flying.
"Young Hanlon,eh?" barked Billings, pulling a sour face like he smelled something bad." and just where do you think you're going?"
As if he wasn't free as the next kid to walk down the street even!
"I'm goin' to band practice. What's it to ya?" lipped Blimp.
"Never mind the smart mouth." snapped Billings getting into his car and gunning the engine. "You'd better behave yourself mister or you'll be behind the eight ball."
"What's that supposed to mean?" jeered Blimp but Billings was already lurching away from the curb with a screech of burnt rubber.
"Friggin' pinhead." muttered Blimp as he crossed the street.
Band practice that night was fairly uneventful and Blimp was able to concentrate most of his attention on Alanna sitting down at the front.
She was looking exceptionally hot tonight, he noticed. With his mind not on the music before him he played a few flubs in the new march they were learning. Mr Weigel made a few rude remarks concerning the amount of practice Blimp had been putting in or rather should have been putting in and the hall grew deathly quiet for a moment or two. Blimp felt his ears turning red. It was just like Weigel to queer him out in front of everyone, especially Her. But it all blew over and things soon got underway again.
Afterwards Blimp was kneeling below the coat hooks packing his trombone away into its case. If he timed this right he might be able to walk Alanna home, assuming that she did walk home and that he could muster up the nerve to ask her. He buckled the snaps and got to his feet.
All the other kids were milling around jostling each other in a hurry to collect their jackets and be off. Maybe he had missed her? No, there she was standing over by the door glancing around as if she had forgotten something.
Blimp caught her eye and, heart thumping, he tried to smile at her, a painful, uncertain, tentative little smile, not by far his usual wry grin.
She dodged his eyes and he felt a loss like desolation. Then she raised her eyes to meet his and a little smile twitched the corners of her mouth. Blimp felt a rush of euphoria!
He made his way over to her feeling fluttery and sick and unsure of himself. These were unfamiliar feelings for Blimp. He is normally a cheeful robust sort of dude, the type to slap you on the back and call you a pansy. Believe me, I know. Many's the time.
It was true then, what people had said. Something he had joked about many times before he had experienced it for himself.
The look of her face. Her fragrance. The aura which surrounded her roused a poignant pang like a stab of wistful longing through his heart. It must, he supposed, be love he was feeling for her but if it was it did not make him feel happy. It was hurting him.
Blimp tells me he must have passed ten or fifteen friends jostling his way through the crowd. Many said hi, punched his shoulder, cracked a joke, nudged each other knowingly, but Blimp never saw any of them nor heard their clever remarks.
His heart, focussing through his eyes, saw only Alanna waiting in a glow by the door. And then he was with her, smelled the fragrance in her hair and was walking on eggshells down the steps with her out into the crisp evening air.
Mothers honked, car doors slammed, the jostling crowd thinned and scattered up the street. The noisy clamour died away and left an awkward pause.
'It's now or never, man.' thought Blimp with his palms sweating. "Damn the torpedoes, we're going through.'
"Uh, is it all right if I walk you home?" he asked her in a voice with a quaver at the end.
"Oh, my Dad is coming to pick me up." she said carelessly.
"Oh." said Blimp and he felt a pang of sadness. Maybe she didn't care for him after all. Maybe he had just imagined it all, misread the look in her eyes. Maybe he was just a fat dork making a fool of himself as usual.
"I usually walk until I meet him." she said. "Down past the Fire Hall. Do you go that way?" Her eyes twinkled.
"I do now!" he said, brightening, his self confidence swelling to fill his frame.
He slung his horn like a musket over his shoulder and fell in step beside her like a trooper on guard. "Let 'em come boys, I'm ready!'
She seemed glad of his company and his normal cheerfulness reasserted itself.
"I'll carry your flute if you like." he offered as they crossed third avenue.
She smiled at him. "It isn't really heavy, you know." she teased him gently.
Her voice, the merry warmth in her eyes, the smell of her hair was bewitching him body and soul.
"I guess, well, I mean it's kinda obvious , isn't it? I'd do anything for you, girl." he mumbled with his heart thumping. He glanced down at his shoes, then away across the street looking for solace, inspiration, something, anything.'Now why the hell did I go and say that?' he wondered to himself.
"I kind of got the impression you thought I was alright.." she said dryly and she touched the sleeve of his hoody.
He turned his head to look at her, his dream come true. How could this be happening? There must be a God after all. There had to be.
"It is kind of heavy." she said objectively and she pressed the handle of her flute case into his hand.
'I owe you for this one, God' thought Blimp in the quiet of his heart ' and that's for sure.'
At that, the Supreme Moment of Blimp's life so far, who should pull up to the curb in a police prowl car but constable Able Billings.
He rolled down the window on the driver's side.
"I think if I was you I'd be a tad more choosey as to who I walked home with, young lady. Well, Hanlon? What have you got to say for yourself this time? Give us a toot on that horn of yours and let me run you in for disturbing the peace. Hey? What do you say?"
"Maybe later." said Blimp, determined not to let this moron provoke him in front of Alanna.
"Sure thing, fatty. I'll be looking forward to it."
Blimp felt Alanna's hand slip into his.
"Don't pay any attention." she whispered.
Blimp gave her hand a squeeze.
A brown SUV, its signal light winking, drew up to the curb in front of the patrol car.
"That's my dad." said Alanna, slipping her hand from Blimp's. "I have to go." She took her flute and ran round to the passenger's side. "Bye!" she called as she turned and waved cheerfully to Blimp. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."
Blimp waved 'so long.' He felt a bit disappointed their walk had been so short but there was a gladness there too that all had gone well with her at least. And he knew, or at least he felt, that there would be other walks together. And that was very encouraging.
There remained the problem of what to do about Billings, who was clearly determined to be a pain in the rear at every given opportunity.
"I'll be looking forward to that little concert you promised me, Fat." jeered Billings through the open window as he followed the SUV away from the curb.
"It may come sooner than you expect, bozo brains." muttered Blimp. A little idea had popped into his head.
Behind the cop shop was the parking lot to Beatty Collegiate. Two features of the layout there were central to Blimp's budding plan. One was a telephone pole snuggled right up close to the side of Beatty and the second was a tubular metal fire escape which ran like a playground slide from the roof of Beatty down to the parking lot two stories below.
It being a school night Blimp had to go home to check in so to speak . There was, however, nothing to prevent him from slipping out again once Mrs Dunlop (who was looking after him once again while his Grandma was away) had gone to bed. A certain amount of stealth was all that would be required. That and a bit of luck.
Eleven thirty found Blimp underway. Clad in his old black hoody, dark jeans and runners he slipped nimbly out the back door locking it carefully behind him.
He took with him an oddly elongated case which he slung over his shoulder as he shut the back gate and stepped out into the dark alley.
It was a cool night with a damp chill in the air and Blimp set himself a brisk pace as he stole off down the alley, the gravel crunching under his feet.
He told me later that just for a moment he thought of Sean and me tucked asleep in our beds no more than a block away. He said he would have been glad of our company but he knew that what he did this night he would have to do alone.
Billings was clearly getting out of hand and somebody had to show him up for the horse's ass that he was. That somebody was going to be Blimp.
Down second avenue he stole like a thief and the silvery moon overhead hid her light behind a drifting wrack of clouds. A stealthy wind sprang up as Blimp slipped into the shadows of Memorial Park where he paused to pull up his hood and check the time on the luminous dial of his wrist watch.
A quarter to twelve and Blimp was on his way again down the gravelled path past the Cenataph and out through a concealed gap in a Caragana hedge onto Chaplin Street. The night smelled of garden dill and windfall apples.
From here he slipped from lamp post to lamp post, dodging behind a convenient tree or parked vehicle whenever a passing car's headlights swept the sidewalk.
Soon he was opposite the cop shop. When the coast was clear he slipped across the road into the shadows beside the building. He paused beneath a lighted window and carefully ever so cautiously raised himself up for a look-see inside.
Sure enough, there was the man of the hour himself sitting behind a desk evidently straining his feeble faculties over some paper work. A sugary box of glazed doughnuts lay atop the desk close at hand. No doubt he'd had a few.
Blimp smiled a secret smile to himself and slunk away from beneath the window.
The first item on his agenda was to collar one of the big garbage barrels and trundle it over to the fire escape. As quietly as possible he stowed it out of sight behind the slide.
Now came the challenging part, for Blimp had a healthy fear of heights that he would have to overcome.
He stood with his hands on his hips at the foot of the telephone pole and looking up, he thought 'all in a good cause.' There were a couple of dangerous looking coils humming at the top of the pole that he would have to carefully avoid, for he meant to climb that pole.
Taking a deep breath he swung the case on its long strap across his back and reaching up to grasp the lowermost iron peg he gave a jump, caught hold and pulling himself up he began to climb. Rung by rung, reaching upwards. "If anybody drives by and sees me they're gonna wonder what the hell I'm doing." he muttered to himself. The elongated case bumped against his back as he climbed and soon he left the parking lot far behind and below. Up, up and up he climbed into the cool night air. And now he could see out over the neighbourhood. There was the band hall across the way, scene of many a personal musical fiasco.
Up he climbed, rung by rung up the brick side of the building until at last he reached the edge of the rooftop. The coils were humming dangerously just above his head. He didn't want to look up at them and he didn't dare look down. The thought of all that empty space below him made him dizzy. Gingerly he stepped off the rung across a yawning gap of perhaps two feet and dropped off onto the roof. He had made it!
"I couldn't do that again for any amount of money." he muttered. And now to set to work, for he had climbed that pole this night for a reason and that reason began with an R and that R stood for Revenge!
"Get ready, Billings, you friggin' pinhead cuz here it comes! Too bad for you bozo!"
Hunkering down like a commando to avoid being seen he ran across the flat roof to the open mouth of the black iron chute.(the fire escape) Dropping into a crouch he slipped the elongated case off his back, unbuckled the snaps and opened the case to reveal-of course- his beloved trombone. "Ok fathead, you wanted to hear me play and now you'll get your chance." Hastily Blimp assembled his horn, screwed the ring up tight and popped in his mouthpiece. He paused to relish the situation.
It was a quiet night. In his mind's eye he pictured Billings inside his office, perhaps relaxing with his feet up on the desk after a hectic day. Perhaps he had loosened his belt a notch or two, put the paperwork aside for a moment and closed his eyes to savour the peace and quiet...
High on the rooftop Blimp stood up, drew a deep breath and put his horn to his lips.
The peace, the stillness of the sleeping neighbourhood was rudely shattered. Floating down from on high came a sound, the sound of Blimp Hanlon pouring out his soul through the bell of his trombone.
Swannee...
How I love ya
How I love ya
My dear old Swannee...
It was a rude, brassy sound with plenty of razzy glissandoes thrown in, and judging from what happened, to say that Billings awoke is to considerably understate the case. He must have shot from his chair to the window overlooking the parking lot and what oh what was there to see?
There, high up against the moon was a portly little troubadour blowing Swannee to the stars. The notes rang down sharply through the night air, so liquid, clear and melodious that the moment would live forever.
Blimp tells me he poured everything he had into that horn, all his fevered yearning for Alanna and a slimmer waistline, all his hatred for the eternal fat jokes at school and for Billings down below. The neighbourhood must have heard and woke and yearned to get their hands on him for lights began popping on all over.
Up high on the roof Blimp had been keeping a canny eye on the rear door to the cop shop.
He saw it now burst open and blew a triumphant blast!
Throughly enraged, Billings shook his fist up at Blimp and made straight for the pole.
Now it became a matter of timing. With Billings clambering up the pole like an angry ape Blimp blew one last derisive razz that echoed out into the night and then dropped down on one knee and hastily began to take his horn apart. Already he could hear an angry muttering coming up the side of the building .
He popped out the mouthpiece, thumbed the ring loose and took off the slide. He stowed the pieces hurriedly in his case and was just flipping the snaps when a head poked up above the edge of the roof about thirty feet away.
"Aha!" yelled Billings, scrambling up onto the roof. "Caught you, eh? You've had it, mister!"
Blimp slung the long case in front of him, flipped Billings the bird and grasping hold of the cold iron chute with both hands he swung himself up, kicked out his legs and launched himself down the slide.
The inside was black with a shiny patch down at the bottom.
As Blimp shot down through the darkness holding his horn in front of him his feet clanged aginst the metal. He heard an angry shout behind him as he shot out the curving bottom of the chute and dropped the four feet or so onto the pavement. OOF! Not a soft landing but there was no time to waste.
Slinging his horn back across his shoulder he ran around beneath the slide, grabbed the trash barrel and pushed it out in front of the chute. Already he could hear Billings clanging and thumping his way down like a sack of coal.
Blimp took off running, dodging back through the shadows beside the cop shop and out of sight just as Billings came tumbling down into the trash barrel into a putrid pile of kitchen slops! Old gravy, buckets of soup, coffee grounds, rotting fruit-Billings floundered in the goop like a walrus in a tarpit! And the language issuing from that bin was choice ladies and gentlemen, choice. Fricken frackin bleepity bleep bleep bleep! He turned the air blue with his cussing. When he finally emerged from the bin, all a slimey and stinking to high heaven his superior officer was just pulling into the parking lot. The Chief drew his revolver and levelled it at Billings, not sure what kind of maniac he was dealing with. It all took a lot of explaining from Billings who later drove home in his underwear. Everything else had to be thrown out.
Blimp had of course been watching this from behind trees across the street.
All in all he felt he had done himself a pretty good night's work. And he felt fifty pounds lighter walking home under the stars as if a black depression had been lifted from his soul. And after he wearily piled into bed back at home he slept the sleep of the just and dreamt of Alanna with her pretty crest of bright pink hair.


The End.