The Daring Rooftop Rescue

by Brian Bakos

  ***

  As the night dragged on, the storm gradually lost its power. The lightning ceased, and the thunder rolled off with the fading rain. The demonic wind calmed. Johnny poked his head out from behind the blasted chimney and glanced around.

  Looks like the world is still here, he decided.

  Above him arched a clear sky loaded with stars. A gentle breeze played along the tree tops now, and a bright, friendly moon beamed where the thunderheads had once glowered. Everything smelled fresh and clean.

  Johnny crawled out from his hiding place. He shook himself hard, spraying water off his fur.

  “This is definitely more like it!”

  The great fear he’d been struggling against vanished into the pleasant sky. His promise to become a more humble and sincere badger flew away with it.

  Hey, who needed it now that the danger was past?

  Big fruit-eating bats soared high overhead – like a formation out of some horror movie. Dogs (or were they wolves?) howled in the distance. Despite these rather disturbing things, Johnny felt great.

  He sat on the crest of the roof, still amazed that he’d survived and feeling pretty good in general. Never had he seen such a beautiful vista as the forest sprawled out before him.

  His viewpoint was changing in other ways, too. His ordeal had forced him to see himself in a new light. Maybe he hadn’t always been such great guy, he’d come to realize.

  He’d been an arrogant show off, if the truth were told, and he had used his new wealth to bully the others. Perhaps they had good reason to dislike him. Johnny didn’t like himself that much right now, or at least not the mean part of himself.

  Maybe it was time for a new approach. Of course, he was better than the others – anybody could see that. But there was no need to rub it in their faces.

  Amid the breezes on his mansion rooftop, Johnny began to ponder how he would handle things differently once he got down.

  He needed a smoother approach, a subtle touch; he needed to be oilier, like Mayor Raccoon. And he had to cut down on the Punch Fabuloso – it made him talk too much and think too little. Let the others made fools of themselves if they wished.

  The first thing was to get another grape vine, somehow ...

  A great cloud of mosquitoes interrupted his thoughts, swooping down on him like miniature demons.

  “Get away!” Johnny waved his fore legs.

  The mosquitoes bit savagely, avoiding all efforts to shoo them off.

  “I’ll be sucked dry as a prune!” Johnny cried.

  He flailed desperately, dashing about and nearly losing his footing. But there was no escape from the mosquito terror! Johnny stumbled to the very edge of the roof. Through the mass of vicious insects bussing around his head, the ground below looked inviting in the moonlight – almost like an old friend.

  He could get there quick. A busted skull couldn’t be any worse than these mosquitoes! Maybe he could land in the big picker bush and avoid getting totally smashed.

  Here goes nothing!

  Just as he was about to do a Kamikaze dive off the roof, a group of nimble little bats suddenly appeared. They tore into the mosquito cloud, devouring it.

  “That’s it, get em!” Johnny cried.

  The bats wheeled and turned; their squeaks filled the air like the sweetest music. Soon the massacre was over, and the bats departed as quickly as they had come. Not a single mosquito remained.

  Johnny resumed his seat on the roof peak and scratched his many bites.

  “What a fine system,” he said with satisfaction. “One creature devours another – very convenient.”

  It didn’t occur to him that he could be on the losing end of this deal himself. Such nasty things only happened to others.

  But then wings flapped overhead, so softly that Johnny could barely hear them.

  “Whoo-oo-oo-oo’s down there?” a spooky voice said.

  “Loo-ooks like a late night snack,” a second voice replied.

  16: New Friends Drop by

  An enormous owl fluttered down and landed on the roof peak barely a foot away. Fear shot through Johnny like a lightning bolt, freezing him in place. The horrible bird towered above him like a feather mountain. Red eyes glowed in the moonlight; a razor sharp beak clicked.

  Somehow, Johnny managed to speak.

  “I-I’m very happy to meet you,” he said.

  A second, equally dreadful owl landed on Johnny’s other side. The two birds hemmed him in like deadly bookends. One lifted a foot and examined its talons. Was that blood glistening on them?

  “Out for a little stroll through the sky, eh?” Johnny said. “Good night for it.”

  The owls twisted their terrible, neckless heads, sweeping their fiendish eyes over Johnny, sizing him up.

  “He’ll do-ooo-ooo,” one of them said.

  Terror no longer held Johnny in its grip, rather it gave him rocket propulsion. He dashed for the chimney and jumped in head first. Unfortunately, the opening was too narrow for him to slide down very far, so he hung suspended, half in and half out.

  He felt a sharp nip on his rear end.

  “Ouch!”

  His terrified voiced echoed through the chimney.

  Another bite, another “Ouch!”

  “I feel like a badger burger!” Johnny cried.

  “Ugh,” an owlish voice said, “tastes awful!”

  “Too-oo tough,” the second owl said. “Maybe the other end is better, but we can’t get at it.”

  The owls flew away, leaving him stuck fast inside the chimney. Johnny struggled mightily but could not budge an inch. At last he gave up the effort.

  17: Chimney View

  A foul, sooty odor filled this disgusting little world. Johnny could barely keep from gagging with each breath. Mr. Hank had not bothered cleaning the chimney when he’d owned the place, and it really showed.

  Fortunately, the flue into the fire place below was wide open which let in a tiny bit of fresher air. The kerosene lamp on the living room floor still flickered, so at least Johnny could see into the hearth a bit.

  “Guess I’ll have to stay in here a while,” he said, “even though it doesn’t soot me very well.”

  A least he was still in one piece ... mostly. If he could just survive until morning, surely somebody would happen by and notice him up here. Wouldn’t they? Of course they could.

  But as time passed, his confidence in getting rescued became less and less. All the party guests had walked out. That meant they’d probably avoid coming by his place for quite some time. They’d be too embarrassed, or they’d be angry, or whatever.

  And by the time they did come by, Johnny could be in very sad condition. How would he even know that somebody was out there? He couldn’t hear or see anything outside his nightmarish little world.

  The night dragged on. At least Johnny always knew what time it was. Each hour, the tiny man popped out of the clock and revved his chain saw the required number of times. Ten o’clock came, then eleven. The obnoxious chain saw noise echoed up the chimney – and something else, too.

  He could have sworn that he heard thin, wicked laughter, as if the tiny clock man knew of Johnny’s troubles and was pleased about them. That couldn’t be true, though, could it? The clock man was only a piece of wood.

  I’m probably just going nuts, Johnny thought, so it makes sense that I’m hearing things.

  This idea was oddly comforting. Still, Johnny wished that he hadn’t thrown that rag at the clock man earlier. In his current position, he surely didn’t need enemies.

  Perhaps Mayor Raccoon hadn’t been so nice after all, presenting him with that strange ‘housewarming’ gift. Where did the mayor get that horrible thing, anyway?

  When midnight came, the wooden man stopped cold half way through his seventh rev.

  Did that stupid clock finally run down? Johnny wondered. Good!

  Minutes of silence passed. Then a soft thump! came from inside the house, as if somet
hing had dropped off the wall. The floor started creaking. Somebody, or some thing, was moving around down there!

  The creaks became louder, as if whatever walked about was growing larger and heavier. The light dimmed suddenly, as if something was blocking the kerosene lamp. The creaks stopped right at the fire place.

  “Help!” Johnny screamed. “Let me out of here!”

  He thrashed frantically. Something was moving into the fireplace below.

  “Help!” His voice echoed with deafening power.

  Something was slithering up the chimney now!

  Johnny shut his eyes tight. He strained and bucked with redoubled fury. The chimney, already weakened by the lightning blast, started to give way. Cracks started moving up its ruined sides.

  Suddenly, the chimney broke apart.

  “Ooof!”

  Johnny tumbled free and fell sprawling on his back. His head bounced on the roof, stunning him. He was sliding down and down – he couldn’t stop himself, and he wasn’t sure that he even wanted to.

  Come on, Johnny, don’t give up now!

  At the last moment, he managed to dig in his claws and keep himself from hurtling off the roof edge. The shattered chimney crashed down into the fireplace, blocking the way for whatever lurked below.

  18: Morning at Last

  Dawn finally arrived. The first sun rays danced across the tree tops like bright little fairies, creating a steamy mist in their wake. Far off, a rooster crowed. The fresh scent of dewy leaves wafted about.

  Johnny sat among the shingles on his chewed-up rear end. Soot covered the rest of him. He was hungry, chilled, and very humbled.

  People sometimes say, when they’ve had a powerful life-changing experience: “I’ve been to the mountaintop!”

  The roof wasn’t much of a mountaintop, but it was high enough to help Johnny see how badly he’d acted.

  “If I survive, I’ll never be such a snob again,” he vowed. “There’s more to life than just ‘coming up in the world.’ There’s friendship, and kindness, and all that other good stuff.”

  He vowed that, when he ran for governor, he’d put the interests of the voters first. No more selfish bragging. And he’d provide Punch Fabuloso to whoever asked for it, whether they voted for him or not. And he’d charge everyone the same reasonable price, too.

  Well, maybe his special friends would get a discount.

  Anyway, he’d have to find a new source of grapes, since the old vines had all blown away. Mayor Raccoon could help with that. Mayor Raccoon knew just about everything – except how to make Punch Fabuloso, that is!

  Morning advanced, and a broiling sun came with it, burning away the night time dampness. Thirst joined his other miseries. If only somebody would come by.

  “I’d give anything just to see Rufus’ stupid face again!” he said with deep conviction.

  He immediately regretted this remark, as it was not in keeping with his new and sensitive self.

  “Let me reword that,” he said. “I’d give anything to see Rufus’ charming face again.”

  He looked down into the yard and there was Rufus himself, walking up to the front door.

  “Rufus!” Johnny called.

  The possum glanced about, scratching his head.

  “Up here! On the roof,” Johnny cried.

  Rufus looked up.

  “Why, good morning Johnny. What are you doing up there?”

  “I’m trapped!”

  “Trapped, eh?”

  Rufus seemed to give this some thought – not much, though.

  “Say, Johnny,” he called. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more Punch Fabuloso, would you? I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d check.”

  “No!” Johnny said.

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Rufus turned to leave. “Have a nice day, Johnny.”

  “Wait! I need help.”

  “Yeah?” Rufus said.

  “Can’t you see?” Johnny said. “My ladder broke, and I can’t get back down.”

  Rufus eyed the wreckage.

  “Well, the ladder is broke,” he said, “and you certainly are up there. Makes sense that the two facts are related.”

  He seemed pleased with his powers of observation.

  “That’s very bright,” Johnny said. “Now find some way to get me down, okay?”

  “Well, darned if I know how to do that,” Rufus said.

  “Get help then!”

  “That’s a good idea,” Rufus said. “Stay right there, Johnny, I’ll go tell the others.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.”