Pink Flamingos and Flying Cars

Chapter 3

After the pressure cooker incident, I noticed that dinner mainly consisted of sandwiches and other items that did not need major "cooking." While this suited Aunt Linda quite well, Uncle Vic's enthusiasm for dangerous kitchen utensils was obviously rankling him within. He just wasn't himself, and I was quite certain that he was experimenting with the egg beater in the late of the night when Aunt Linda was asleep. Meanwhile, my brief encounter with "scary" Harry next door was still on my mind - why WERE the Dursleys against Harry so much?

This thought had sprouted after several incidents earlier that week. I had been working in the backyard when I overheard the inner-tube boy, Dudley, teasing Harry about not having any friends at school. This sparked a bit of anger from me; I was hoping to hear Harry respond with a real zinger (which would have been an easy 3 points considering the target) but instead, he simply turned around, looked Dudley right in the eye and said "Jiggery pokery! Hocus pocus...squiggly wiggly!"

Listening carefully, I considered that maybe this was some new slang that all the kids were using (thinking back to my school days, I may have used something along the lines of "I'm rubber you're glue..."). I personally didn't understand how Harry's response to these verbal attacks could have been effective, but to my surprise, it sent Dudders howling in the opposite direction, screaming for his mummy, followed by a swift punishment for Harry from Mrs. Dursley.

However, the major event of the week had occurred a little later on. It was morning and Aunt Linda, Uncle Vic, Roxie and myself were all up and getting breakfast. Uncle Vic, under careful watch of course, had been given permission to use the toaster - and he was using it to make toast for all of us. Roxie was sitting at my feet and had fallen asleep, predictably, while Aunt Linda and I were enjoying the cool, peaceful morning atmosphere, before the scorching midday sun. This idyllic scene was shattered by a pounding and grinding noise, which made both of us immediately look to see what exactly Uncle Vic was doing to the toaster. He stared back at us just as surprised, butter knife in hand, and said "It's not me!"

"It must be from outside" I surmised. We all scrambled out the back door to see what was happening and beheld a most unexpected sight.

The source of all the banging and scraping was from the Dursleys. A handyman was up a ladder, putting iron bars on the window facing into the backyard--Harry's window. Below, watching the work was Mr. Dursley, who wore a sneer and muttered unintelligibly under his breath. The sound of the hammer pounding against the siding of the Dursleys' home was quite unbearable. Mr. Dursley, however, seemed to be in heaven. With each pound the foul sneer on his face became more and more contorted and with his hands clasped together he cackled maniacally. Aunt Linda and Uncle Vic seemed to have noticed Mr. Dursley's odd behavior as well, and were exchanging worried looks. Uncle Vic, butter knife still in hand, slowly approached the fence dividing our yards and said to Mr. Dursley who hadn't seemed to notice we were there, "Ahoy there, Vernon...erm...fixing the house?"

Mr. Dursley didn't take his eyes off the bars on the window. "Yes, yes...should have done it long time ago," he muttered, specks of spit flying out of his now purple face. "Let's see him ruin things now! He can just stay there all summer!" A spluttering laugh escaped his foaming lips.

Uncle Vic was obviously out to sea, as were Aunt Linda and I. Uncle Vic decided to press on.

"I see...well, those nice iron bars will definitely keep burglars out. That is, if they uh, manage to climb up the side of the wall. I can see that you're worried about your family's safety; Dudley and Harry can sleep soundly knowing that you're looking out for their welfare, Vernon!"

At the mention of the name "Harry" Mr. Dursley finally looked away from the handyman's work and turned on Uncle Vic like a mad rhinoceros.

"Harry!" he spluttered, "Ha! These bars are there to keep Petunia, Dudley and myself safe from him! Mr. Dursley was shaking violently now and there was an odd twitch in his eye. The three of us backed away, expecting him to burst like a pressure cooker.

He pointed a large shaking finger at the window. "Do you know what that...that boy...did last night? He ruined my important dinner party with his usual recklessness!" A strange glint was now in his eye. "Now, he's even in trouble with...his school" With that, Mr. Dursley stormed into his house and shut the back door with a bang. The racket had ended now that the bars were firmly in place and life went on as it always did on Privet Drive.

I trudged upstairs with Roxie at my heels, and once I got to my room, carefully peered into the small window next door which faced into mine. Sure enough, Harry sat on the bed in the dark room, now made even darker by the iron bars on the window. The bird cage seemed to have a new lock on it, and the owl inside looked more confined than ever. As the sun came through the window, the bars cast long black shadows on everything in the room. With my limited view, I could see anger in the Harry's eyes; his fists clenched. "I really can't complain," I thought to myself. "Grounding was never this bad." I couldn't bring myself to believe that this boy was as horrible as Mr. Dursley said he was. Harry had an honest face, and more than fear I felt only sympathy towards him. Just as I was about to say hi and maybe give him some company in his cell, he stood up, and walked to the small window I was looking through and closed the shade.