The Dudley Diaries

Chapter Two: Bling bling!

Dudley woke up in a confused stupor to the dull ringing of his alarm clock. Cursing, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and hurried to get dressed.

His movements were fast and deliberate; he adjusted his boater hat at what he considered the 'gangsta angle'. He wore his tie loosely around his neck and hung his tan pants low around his hips. Just like Puffy, he thought with satisfaction as he appraised his appearance in the mirror above his bureau. His brain worked feverishly, trying to recall the show he had fallen asleep watching the previous night. He wasn't sure what the name of it was called, but Puff Daddy was the guest star. He was heavily promoting his much hyped album, "Platinum". He had mentioned, in somber, measured tones, how sad he was over the death of his friend and colleague, the Notorious B.I.G.

Dudley stared hard into the mirror and intoned, "He was a part of my posse. I loved him like a brother." He kept saying this part over and over again, trying to capture Puffy's arrogant swagger, his attempt at expressing sorrow while maintaining a macho persona. Dudley sighed; this was going to take some practice. He removed a bottle of water out of his satchel and took a well-orchestrated swig. "This one's for me." Then, looking back into the mirror, he watched his reflection turn the bottle upside down and squeeze what was left onto the hardwood floor. "This one's for my homies. May ya'll rest in peace."

Suddenly, the door to his dorm room swung wide open and a tall, blustering boy with a mop of red hair barged in. "Who're you talking to, Dudley?" He stared at Dudley's messy attire and then at the puddle of water on the floor. "Hey guys, look at this--Dudley had an accident!" Three other boys walked into the room and started laughing at the water on the floor. Dudley tried to protest, but he kept getting interrupted.

"Couldn't you make it to the bathroom down the hall?"

"Ah, c'mon now, guys. We'll be late for breakfast. Let's leave baby Dudley alone to play in his puddle of piss."

The redhead, Derek Chase, smirked. "Might as well. Wouldn't want the smell getting on my clothes." His nostrils flared and he flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his jacket. "Just thought you'd like to know that Lilliwig is holding class in the Moore Conservatory today." With a couple more laughs and jeers, they made their way out of Dudley's room.

Giving a sigh, Dudley sank heavily down onto his bed. He threw his water bottle across the room and slammed a fist into his pillowcase. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself. Fuming, he stared futively around his room, looking for something to latch onto, to divert his attention. His eyes fell onto the telly on Pier's old dresser, the one he'd been watching for several nights running. A catchphrase ran through his head: "It's all about the bling blings."

That's what he needed, and that's what he was going to get. With all the accrouements that come with wealth, he could certainly gain the respect--or fear--of his peers. And that no good Derek Chase! Calls himself "Lord Chase"--not really one, but certainly anticipating. Well, Dudley would deal with him later. For now, he had to begin Phase One of Operation Puffy: securing bling blings.

With very little pocket money and no opportunities to travel to London, Dudley had to improvise. He needed chains. He needed medallions. And he needed to make it all look like gold. Thankfully, he knew how to do this. He already had three paintbrushes and four vials of gold tinted paint from the studio where Art class was held. He'd been careful to swipe these one by one over a period of several days so they wouldn't be noticed. It wouldn't have mattered, though; his teacher, Ms. Parue, was too caught up in interpreting the fickle whims of her Muse to heed the pillaging of her storeroom.

*********

After lunch, Dudley headed toward Professor Lilliwig's classroom. It was empty. This actually surprised Dudley, for he had doubted the truthfulness of Derek's statement and assumed it was just another way for Derek to have some fun at his expense. Dudley was about to turn around and run to the Moore Conservatory when something caught his eye. It was a long tube of water sitting at the edge of Lilliwig's desk. The whole thing gleamed under a beam of sunlight pouring in from a tall window. Dudley slowly walked toward it to examine it closer. He strained his brain, trying to recall the name of the thing. It was a telescope. No, it was a barometer. Or some such thing; he remembered Lilliwig gesturing toward it during the last class right before he dropped off to sleep. He picked it up and read the label on the base: Galileo Thermometer. Dudley shrugged. Examining the object more closely for an opening, he found nothing. But there were medallions floating inside, hanging from little glass casings of colored water. He immediately stuffed the thermometer inside his bag and rushed to the Conservatory.

*********

It was nearing midnight and the halls were empty. Dudley tiptoed out of his dorm room. The front of his pajamas were wet from finally having to break open the thermometer he'd stolen from Lilliwig's classroom. His slippers dragged along the tiled floors down toward the bathrooms. To cut down on the noise, he lifted his legs dramatically high. As stealthily as he could, he marched methodically through every single toilet stall, lifting the lids on the back of each toilet and yanking the chains from each pump; the balls stubbornly refused to give and so swayed against his side, dripping a tell-tale trail of toilet water in Dudley's wake.

Dudley made his way through four floors of bathrooms, collecting the chains from every last one. With his bounty in his arms, he fled back to the sanctity of his room.

*********

The first rays of morning sunlight pored over the countryside. One ray made its way directly into Dudley's room and emblazoned his snoring face. Cringing, Dudley sat up and shook his head. Oh, what a night he'd had. He'd been up til three in the morning, pulling chains apart from their balls and painting each one in gold. When his eyes became so blurry that his fingers fumbled at attempting to disengage the coins from the glass, he finally retired to bed.

As Dudley prepared for class, someone banged on his door. Irritatedly he asked, "Who is it?"

"The janitor." Dudley froze. He had black toilet balls strewn all over his room, and chains covered in clumped gold paint on his dresser by the window, drying under the sunlight. How was he to hide all this evidence? He'd never thought about how he would get rid of everything.

"I'll be right there!" In a flurry of movement, Dudley gathered up all of the chains, balls and glass into a large paper bag and lobbed it out his window. He hoped that, since his window faced East, no one would see what he'd done. He knew the Eastern part of the school faced acres of rolling pasture; he figured any lingering cows wouldn't tell on him.

Slowly, Dudley cracked his door open. The janitor, a smelly old man with stringy hair who went by the name of Bluebeard despite not having a beard, much less blue hair, peered deep into his face. "I see a trail of water leading to your room--do you have an explanation for this?"

Dudley gulped. "N-n-no, sir." He tried to think of something else to say, but his thoughts were interrupted by the annoying voice of Derek.

"Oy, what's this? Dursley couldn't quite make it to the bathroom again?" Derek chortled.

The janitor's eyes went wide at first, then furrowed thoughtfully. "So perhaps you saw who did it!"

"Did what?"

"Vandalized all the toilets, that's what! A few pretty pounds worth of damage for sure! If you saw someone or something, I want to know. I'll let this messy business of yours slide," he motioned toward the trail of water on the floor, "if you tell me what you know."

Dudley gulped again. A vision of Puffy appeared in his head as he murmured, "I don't know, man. I was just chillin' with my...English book."

The janitor cocked his head. "Look 'ere, boy. If you went to the bathroom this last evening and did not notice anything, then obviously the vandals struck later on. What time did you go to the bathroom?"

"Yo, man, chill. I don't know what's your jibe but it's crampin' my style, yo." The forcefulness of his words gave him a fleeting sense of calm. He could handle this. The evidence in his room was gone, he was not under suspicion...

A woman in heels clopped at a fast pace down the hall toward the motley group arranged in front of Dudley's room. It was Ms. Ascot, and she looked fit to be tied.

"Headmaster Pickle has been hurt!"

The janitor eyed the office secretary suspiciously. "What's that?"

Derek chimed in. "Where? What happened?"

Dudley began to turn green.

Ms. Ascot wringed her hands. "Bluebeard, he was struck down by a paper bag full of the toilet parts that were stolen last night!"

Bluebeard looked aghast. "Is the Headmaster all right? And how are the balls?"

Ms. Ascot looked at him strangely. "Mr. Bluebeard, I will only ask you this once to please refrain from asking such lewd questions, especially in front of the students." Leaning toward him, she hissed, "Headmaster Pickle was hit in the head."

"Madam, I was referring to the parts in the bag."

Ms. Ascot turned pink in the cheeks. "Oh, well, I, I don't rightly know." She began to turn back down the hall. "I have called an ambulance."

The janitor asked in a low voice, "Where did this happen?"

"In the Eastern quadrant of the campus, on the edge of Hillinger's pasture. The bag just came flying out of nowhere. I presume a student threw it out the window and aimed it at him. The malice involved in such a heinous act..." but her words were drowned out by distance. A pit developed in Dudley's stomach.

"Ah ha, so old Pickle's been pickled, imagine that!" Derek called out to one of his friends who had joined the crowd of students who had gathered to witness the scene. Derek was preparing to say more--Dudley shut his door before he heard another word and proceeded to get dressed.

Dudley's mind was racing. Phase One had failed. No bling blings were secured. Only petty theft and vandalism as well as knocking out his own Headmaster by accident. Now what am I going to do? He wondered desperately. Did anyone seen me? Did Headmaster Pickle see me throw the bag out my window? What was he doing in the cow patches anyway? All he knew for sure was that it was time to move on to Phase One, Plan B: Secure Bling Blings during next trip to London with parents. And this time he was determined to be more careful.