The Daring Rooftop Rescue

by Brian Bakos

  Part 2: Struggle for Acceptance

  7: The Invitations Arrive

  A few days later, Forest Towne’s leading citizens received invitations stuffed inside pretty blue envelopes:

  Greetings,

  You are cordially invited to a fixer upper party at Mr. Johnny Badger’s mansion this Saturday beginning at 12:00 p.m. sharp.

  There will be good food along with a fresh, tasty batch of Punch Fabuloso. Exciting musical games will be played. Don’t miss it!

  Johnny Badger, esquire

  R. S. V. P.

  The chosen ones stood around the town square, each with an invitation clutched in his paws.

  “A ‘fixer upper party,’ eh?” Rufus Possum said. “That sounds like a lot of work to me.”

  “Right,” Chester Squirrel said. “Mr. Hank left that house in quite a mess. I didn’t even want to hide any nuts there.”

  “Serves Johnny right,” said Tom Chipmunk. “He’s been putting on airs lately, like he’s better than us.”

  They all nodded, agreeing that Johnny had become an outrageous snot. Why, before he’d received that house, he’d been on the bottom rung of society. Now he was acting like the king of Forest Towne.

  And to think that he expected them – the In Crowd – to attend his party. Shocking!

  But the words Punch Fabuloso practically shouted from the paper at them. They all licked their chops. Greed flared in their hearts.

  “Where do you suppose he got the Punch Fabuloso?” Rufus asked.

  “Maybe the Old Curmudgeon left some behind,” Chester said.

  Rufus shook his head vigorously.

  “That doesn’t sound much like him, does it?” he said.

  “Mr. Hank isn’t the warm and generous type,” Tom added. “If his own mother said she loved him, he’d probably want to check it out.”

  Everyone nodded, agreeing that Mr. Hank was an outrageous meanie. Still, it did not occur to anyone that Johnny might have brewed the punch himself.

  “So ... what does R. S. V. P. stand for?” Arthur Beaver asked.

  “Why, those are my initials, of course,” Rufus said. “They stand for Rufus Victor Simon Possum.”

  “That can’t be it,” Arthur said, “the order is switched around.”

  “I think I got the order of my names right,” Rufus said, “but don’t quote me on that.”

  The others exchanged disapproving glances. Exactly why Rufus was included in the town elite was a mystery, since he was far from the sharpest tool in the shed. Maybe he was a sort of a token dummy, somebody needed to balance things out in the Forest Towne social register. Who knew anymore?

  Tom waved his invitation. “Come on, Rufus, why would Johnny put your initials on all the invitations?”

  “Then it must stand for ... Rush So Very Promptly,” Rufus said. “Didn’t he say to be there at 12:00 sharp?”

  Arthur adjusted his glasses. “Oh, I Read So Very Poorly with these! I simply must replace them.”

  “I haven’t even opened my invitation yet,” Chester said. “Perhaps I should take the envelope and Rip So Very Pretty.”

  Rufus wasn’t quite bright enough to realize that he was being made fun of.

  “Ahem!” came a voice from across the square.

  Everyone turned toward Mayor Raccoon. He stood in his customary pose – on his hind legs with his tail draped over his left wrist. In his left paw, almost hidden by his luxurious tail, he held his own blue invitation.

  “Hello Mayor,” Rufus said. “Do you know what R. S. V. P. means?”

  The Mayor didn’t answer right off, but merely stroked his tail with his free paw. Everyone waited with quiet respect.

  “Of course I know what it means,” the Mayor finally said.

  “What?” everyone asked together.

  “It’s French,” Mayor Raccoon said. “It stands for: réspondez s’il vous plaît.”

  The others gaped with amazement. They all knew that Mayor Raccoon was smart, but nobody imagined that he could understand French.

  “What does that mean in plain talk?” Rufus asked.

  “It means, ‘please respond,’” the Mayor said. “Johnny wants you to inform him ahead of time if you plan to attend his party.”

  “Sure, I’m going,” Rufus said. “Didn’t he say there’d be Punch Fabuloso? What about you, Mayor?”

  “Of course I’ll attend,” Mayor Raccoon said, “but I’ll have to leave early. There’s an important political meeting with the other mayors.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Chester said. “Let’s get RSVP-ing!”

  8: The Party Begins

  Come Saturday, a few minutes before 12:00 p.m. sharp, the guests, led by Mayor Raccoon, appeared at Johnny’s ‘mansion.’ They waited in the doorway feeling uncomfortable and awkward. Johnny was nowhere in sight.

  The mayor had his forelegs wrapped around a gaily-painted wooden clock. The others didn’t know what to do with their paws as they looked about the almost empty house. Before he left, the Old Curmudgeon had busted up most of his furniture and burned it in the fireplace. Only the table and chairs in the dining room remained, and that horrid deer antler chandelier.

  Rufus gulped and pointed toward the light fixture.

  “Looks like them deer had a bad day, all right,” he said.

  “Quite so,” the mayor agreed.

  Everyone remembered hearing the boom! of Mr. Hank’s gun in the distance. Now they knew what he’d been shooting at.

  They moved cautiously into the living room. Johnny’s little stereo sat on the floor. Paint cans and brushes occupied a corner near the picture window.

  Rufus nudged Chester. “Look at them brushes,” he whispered. “I told you we’d be in for it.”

  They started gliding back toward the door until they spied a small barrel sitting in another corner.

  “That must be the Punch Fabuloso!” Chester said.

  They instantly decided to stay, and they rejoined the others in a tight group around Mayor Raccoon. Johnny emerged from a back room strutting on his back legs. He greeted them heartily.

  “Hello everyone!”

  He looked nothing like the terrified badger cowering before the mob last week. He was much more bold, confident, and even heavier than he used to be.

  “I’m so glad you could all make it,” Johnny said. “And even a bit early! Never too soon to start having a good time, isn’t that right, my friends?”

  But his manner was a bit too sincere, the way a used car salesman might act before he sells you a really bad vehicle. Besides, it was rather audacious for Johnny to call them “my friends” so confidently. None of the guests really wanted to be friends with Johnny Badger.

  He did have that keg of Punch Fabuloso, though. They all wanted to get friendly with that, so they smiled and tried to make a good impression.

  “Nice place you’ve got here, Johnny,” they said.

  and:

  “So kind of you to invite us.”

  and:

  “Blah, blah, blah.”

  Amid the friendly chit, nobody mentioned the squeaking floor, the musty smell, or the general creepiness of the place. That would hardly be polite. Mayor Raccoon stepped forward ceremoniously from the group.

  “On behalf of the citizens of Forest Towne,” he announced in his most official tone, “I hereby present you with this housewarming gift.”

  He presented the clock. Johnny received it, bowing graciously.

  “Thank you, Mayor, I’m deeply honored.”

  Everyone applauded. Johnny hung the contraption on the living room wall.

  “I’ve always wanted a cuckoo clock,” he said.

  “It’s not exactly a cuckoo clock,” Mayor Raccoon said. “Watch, I think you’ll like it even better.”

  Twelve o’clock sharp arrived and the clock started to bong. A little door opened up in it. Only instead of a bird popping out, a tiny wooden man appeared revving a chainsaw.

  Rummm! Rummm!


  Everybody flinched. The chainsaw roared twelve times all together. Then the wooden man disappeared back behind his door. The house fell blessedly silent.

  “How nice,” Johnny said. “It’s very, uh ... unique.”

  He kept grinning on the outside, but inside he was starting to feel a little bit uneasy.

  9: The Good Times Roll

  Lunch came first with ample food and talk. Despite themselves, the guests found that they were warming to Johnny Badger. He certainly was a good host, nobody could deny that, and the lunch he’d prepared for them was first rate.

  Of course, the sight of the barrel sitting in the corner improved their attitudes. The same question occupied every mind: When is Johnny going to serve up the Punch Fabuloso?

  Mayor Raccoon did most of the actual talking, and a lot of it had to do with the political situation in the surrounding forest area. He, too, wanted to speed up the Punch Fabuloso, and thought that he might just have a way to do it.

  “There’s good news and bad news about our future,” he said dramatically when they were nearing the end of their meal.

  Everyone sat forward in their chairs, waiting eagerly to hear the news about their future, but Mayor Raccoon seemed to have lost his train of thought. He merely sat in his chair at the head of the table nibbling daintily on his acorn muffin.

  “This is excellent, Johnny,” he said, “done to a turn.”

  “Thanks, Mayor,” Johnny said. “So ... what’s the good news?”

  “Oh, yes, quite,” the Mayor said.

  He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and took a drink of water.

  “The good news is that our whole forest has been declared a state park,” he said.. “So, we no longer have to worry about humans plowing us under with bulldozers or pushing us out with their shopping malls.”

  “Bravo!” Arthur Beaver cried.

  Of all those present, he was at the greatest risk from people. Beavers and humans never did mix very well.

  “And what’s the bad news?” Rufus asked.

  “Well, that’s the bad news, too,” the Mayor said, chewing his acorn muffin. “There will be new picnic grounds and such – bike trails, snowmobiles in the winter. People messing things up.”

  “Who cares?” Arthur said. “I’ll take a picnic ground over a shopping mall any day.”

  “The thinking is that we should elect an all-powerful governor to represent our interests,” Mayor Raccoon said, “sort of a big boss for the whole forest. We’ll be discussing it at the mayors’ conference later today.”

  Johnny’s ears perked up. Why couldn’t he be the new governor? Governor Badger in his fine new mansion!

  “My feeling is that the motion will be approved,” Mayor Raccoon said. “Then we’ll open things up for nominations next week. The election for governor will take place soon after that.”

  Johnny grinned. Who else was better qualified to be governor than he was? Everybody knew that, or they would soon find out. Why, he was as good as elected already.

  ‘Governor Johnny Badger’ – now didn’t that have a nice ring to it? Or, better yet: Big Honcho Johnny Badger. A warm glow spread through him like a sunrise. A burst of generosity overcame his better judgment.

  “Let’s have some Punch Fabuloso to toast the new park,” he said. “Then we’ll play a game of Blompers.”

  “Bravo!” Arthur cried again.

  “Hooray for Johnny Badger!” everyone else cheered.

  Mayor Raccoon smiled inwardly. His plan to free up the Punch Fabuloso was working great!

  Johnny had planned to save the punch until after the “musical games” were finished, but he’d gotten carried away with visions of power. Soon he’d be governor of the whole forest! Didn’t that call for a celebration?

  While the others set up the Blompers board, Johnny fetched the keg of Punch Fabuloso he’d brewed a few days earlier. Punch Fabuloso had to age a while before it developed that special kick everyone loved – the little tang that made them happy and talkative.

  Oh, please, Johnny prayed silently as he lugged the barrel into the dining room, let this punch be as good as the Old Curmudgeon used to make! Don’t let it poison everybody!

  All eyes were riveted upon him as he tapped the keg. All mouths watered as a jet of red liquid shot from the spigot into a glass mug. A sweet, fruity aroma filled the air. Johnny handed the mug to Mayor Raccoon.

  “Let our distinguished mayor have the first taste,” he said.

  Mayor Raccoon smiled and nodded. Flattery always pleased him, however much he claimed it didn’t.

  He raised the mug slowly and dramatically, studying its contents in the ray of sunlight poking through the window. He swished the liquid around, sniffed it delicately. Then he took a long, luxurious swig, tilting his head far back.

  The room became totally silent. Johnny Badger was in an agony of suspense.

  What if he’d put in too much secret ingredient? What if the Old Curmudgeon had left him a fake recipe – what if the brew was actually poisonous, or at least very revolting? Mr. Hank seemed mean enough to do something like that.

  Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Johnny groaned inwardly. I’ve been way too trusting!

  Finally, Mayor Raccoon put the empty mug down on the table. He sat motionless, his eyes closed and his head slightly bowed. The tension became unbearable. Johnny knew that his whole future depended on the next few moments.

  The clock struck one, and the irritating wooden man popped out revving his chainsaw. But everyone was too intent on watching the Mayor to notice.

  “W-well ...” Johnny whispered, “how is it?”

  Mayor Raccoon’s eyes popped open, and he thrust a fist into the air.

  “Excellent!” he cried.

  “Yes!” everyone shouted.

  10: Things Begin to Turn Sour

  Johnny filled cups for the others. The whole room brimmed with delight.

  “This Punch Fabuloso is better than anything Mr. Hank ever made before,” Chester said.

  “That’s right!” everyone agreed.

  “Why, thank you,” Johnny said modestly. “I did try to improve the recipe a bit. Though it’s not a good idea to tamper too much with success.”

  The room became suddenly quiet.

  “You mean ... you made this punch, Johnny?” Rufus asked.

  “Yes, sir, I did.” Johnny tapped his head. “I’ve got all the secrets, right up here, courtesy of Mr. Hank himself.”

  Mayor Raccoon kept a smile on his face, but his mind was reeling. He’d assumed that the barrel had been left behind by the Old Curmudgeon. But if Johnny knew the secret of making Punch Fabuloso ... why there was no telling how much political power he might amass!

  Whoever controlled the punch controlled a lot of votes. The Mayor could almost feel his own power draining away with every sip the guests took. He’d been thinking of himself as the new governor, but everything was up in the air now.

  “May I have some more, please?” he croaked.

  “Certainly!” Johnny beamed with pleasure as he refilled the Mayor’s cup.

  Things are sure off to a fine start! Johnny thought.

  Before long, he would have everybody on his side. They’d all recognize what a wonderful fellow he truly was – just the sort to elect as governor. Not to mention the only one in Forest Towne who could make Punch Fabuloso.