The Dudley Diaries

Chapter Three: Shopping In London

Dudley sat in the backseat, turning an idle eye toward the blur of countryside outside his father's car. He was angry; to keep from speaking out in frustration, he tried to concentrate on the occasional stile, random cow, clump of daisies. He would not speak out; he crossed his arms and stifled even the smallest sigh of frustration. He repeated Puffy's mantra, "It's all about the bling blings." He clinged to the dream of one day wearing his own set of gold chains. No one was going to stop him. Not even his parents.

"Vernon, do calm down." Petunia was saying from the front passenger seat. She spoke slowly, as though she were trying to reason with a small child. "I am sure he is trying to lose weight."

Vernon barked back, "Like hell he is! He's gotten fatter, Petunia, fatter! I can't have a picture of him on my desk without eliciting some nasty comment from my subordinates. I shouldn't have to hide my own son from public view. He's an embarrassment to the family, even moreso than you-know-who."

Petunia shivered. "He is not a member of this family."

"Don't change the subject, woman. Your son is so big..."

"I beg your pardon! My son? As anyone can clearly see he gets his size from your side of the family!"

"My side of the family!? You want to drag family history into this?"

Petunia tried to back down. "No, Vernon, I am simply saying..."

Vernon interrupted her. "At least my family is normal."

Dudley rolled his eyes as he prepared for the on-slaught of arguing between his parents over who had worse in-laws. He tried to think happy thoughts, like where they would go shopping once they got to London, and tried to formulate some last minute plans to steer his parents toward the nicer jewelry stores.

For the most part, things were going exactly as planned. He was heading to London with his parents for a weekend shopping spree. It had taken a few weeks of careful planning, but he had managed to convince his mother over the phone that he had lost weight and needed some new clothes. This, he knew, would please his mother immensely and she would not hesitate to plan an impromptu trip to London. And because Headmaster Pickle was still in the hospital, no one would question Dudley's last-minute request for an excused weekend absence. Ms. Ascot, it seemed, was still in a bit of a daze over the whole incident. She signed his authorization paperwork without even reading it.

But on the other hand, things were not going as planned. He hadn't really lost any weight, and his father noticed this on sight. Hence, the terrible argument which ensued all the way from Smeltings to London that rainy Saturday afternoon. Vernon was in no mood to take the weekend off to spend money on a son who disappointed him. Plus he had lost a client and didn't have anyone handy to blame for it--Vernon liked to blame others for his troubles, and if his usual target wasn't available (Harry), he settled for whoever was (Dudley).

Dudley tried not to think about all this. Suddenly he noticed silence in the front of the car. They had entered the outskirts of London and Vernon was paying more attention to the road than on having the last word. In a slight attempt to lighten the mood and quell his impatient stomach, Dudley queried, "How about a spot of tea?"

Vernon growled. "Boy, you've had enough tea to last a lifetime."

Dudley sat back in the car, insulted and defeated. He wished Harry were sitting next to him, just so he could have someone to poke. Someone to yell at. At the very least, his parents would've been too concerned with making Harry miserable to bother Dudley.

*********************

"Dudley, these clothes you keep choosing are too big, even for you!" Petunia clucked at the price tag of a designer pair of jeans Dudley had glibly tossed into her basket. "Who is Tommy Hilfiger, and why is he charging so much for us to advertise his clothes?"

"Cuz' it's jammin', it's got the flava, it's the bestest shit." Petunia didn't hear him. Dudley grabbed an NFL jersey off the rack and pressed it against his chest. It read PimpDaddy 007. "I think this will fit."

Petunia sighed. "Try it on, then." Dudley grabbed a bunch of clothes from the basket she was carrying and made his way to the fitting rooms. Petunia sat outside his stall. "Do you need any help, love?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Let me at least get a look at you, maybe pull down the shirt in the back? Adjust the crotch?"

Dudley poked his head out of his stall. "Why don't you just take it up a notch--they can't hear you in China!"

Petunia looked hurt. "I just want to make sure the clothes fit. You're still a growing boy and..."

"Yeah, whatever." He stepped out after a moment and checked his figure from the angled mirrors. He surveyed the jersey hanging impressively over his big belly, leaving a large gap between the hem of the top and his low-hanging pants. He inched the pantline down about an inch lower so that part of his underwear was exposed in the back.

"Dudley! You're being indecent!"

"But this is what's bitchin'."

"Dudley! You watch that mouth of yours. And pull up your pants!" Petunia noticed other store patrons staring in her direction and began to turn pink. Muttering under her breath, she said, "Now."

Dudley sniffed and pulled up his pants. He could wear them low at school. "Can we stop at the jewelry store across the street?" He had noticed, with growing interest, a small shop on the way to the store; it had large gold jewelry displayed in the store window.

"What jewelry store? The only thing over there is a dingy little pawn shop."

Dudley nodded quickly. "Yes, that's it."

Petunia wore a pained expression on her face. "What earthly reason could you possibly have for wanting to go there?"

Dudley didn't answer; he didn't quite know how to tell his mother he was interested in wearing large pieces of jewelry in public without arousing her worry. He turned on his heel and went back to the fitting room to try on another outfit. When he came out again, all he said was, "I thought I saw some cool shit in the display."

"What did you say?"

"Er, some neat stuff?"

"All I saw was some worthless costume jewelry." Petunia tutted. "Why would you fancy anything of that sort?"

I wanna pimp out for my homies and look like I dropped a few benjamins!, was what Dudley thought. But he said, "No, I thought I saw a video game I don't have." Nice save!

"Oh." Petunia thought for a minute. "I suppose I could give you a few notes. But if I do this, will you promise me..." She stopped, unsure of what to say. "Will you try to lose weight? Your father..." He followed her line of vision to the street, where Vernon was parking the car. Petunia hastily continued. "If I give you this," she held a few bills in her hand, "will you promise?" She looked at him earnestly.

Dudley shrugged and took the money. Petunia grabbed his shoulder blades and squeezed. Dudley sighed. "Yeah, I'll try."

"That's a good egg. Now go get your game while I pay for these clothes." Dudley quietly made his way to the pawn shop.

****************

Saturday night had been an intolerably long, silent drive to Little Whinging. Dudley managed to buy most of the jewelry in the pawn shop, plus three collector magazines about Puffy and his burgeoning empire. However, none of these things were able to sustain his attention for the whole drive home. Dinner was a quiet affair; tasteless, too. Dudley shoved peas almandine around his plate listlessly. Afterwards, he spent most of the night hunkered down in his bedroom, searching for a couple pairs of hi-top sneakers that would go very well with his new outfits. Petunia dropped in momentarily right before bedtime.

"Dudleykins, I am sure when you come back home for summer holiday, we will have to resize all of your clothes, you'll have--changed so much." Dudley harumphed. His mother still couldn't bring herself to say the F-word.

"Go away." Dudley was lying on his bed, listening to his CD of Platinum. He had huge headphones on, concentrating on memorizing the lines to "Suga Daddy".

Petunia sat down on his bed and removed his headphones. "Listen to me when I'm speaking to you, Dudley."

He scowled at her.

"And don't scowl. It compromises your handsome brow." She stroked his face softly, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "Just like your father, you know. In appearance, personality, and temperament."

Dudley resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Petunia gave a dramatic sigh. "Your father says you're...you're...f-f-f" She wrung her hands. "You are just a shade paunchy."

"Just say it, Mum. I'm fat." Petunia pursed her lips. "I'm fat, fat, FAT!"

Petunia waved her hands around wildly. "So what if you're pleasantly plump? You're still my precious Dudleykins."

Dudley sat up, with some effort, and turned his stereo volume down. "Whatever."

"Look: I don't like this attitude you've had recently. Don't push me aside; I'm only trying to help!"

Dudley scowled.

"And quit scowling!" She thereupon stood up and made her way toward his bedroom door. Turning back around momentarily, she said, "I won't be going back with you tomorrow, so do your best in school and remember our little promise." With a small smile, she closed the door behind her. Dudley had turned over in his bed and pretended not to notice. When he was sure she was gone, he changed CDs and put in one of Biggie's.

"My main man." Dudley flipped the CD case open and pulled out the jacket cover. "Wassup, yo."

****************

The next day in his dorm room, Dudley opened his suitcases one by one. In the first two were his new clothes. In the third suitcase was a note and several tins of Slim Fast.

Dear Dudley,

I know you'll make your father and I very proud when we pick you up in June. Chin up, and enjoy the big surprise!

Love Always,

Mum.

Dudley looked at the note questioningly. Slim Fast was quite a surprise indeed. But then, almost menacingly, came a firm rapping on his door.

Dudley opened it with trepidation, and found himself face to face with a white man with a frizzy afro donning a loose-fitting t-shirt and tight biker shorts. His dark tan complemented his sweat-stained headband and wristbands. "Hiya, Doddee! Surprise surprise!" He had the slightest of a lisp.

Dudley stared at him, bewildered. "What? Who are you?" He raised a hand to cover his eyes from the glare of a tall light. His heart rose to his throat as he noticed two or three cameramen standing behind the over-excited, under-dressed man before him. He didn't notice the crowd of students staring from their dormitory doorways.

The man slapped his knees and boomed, "Why, I'm your very own personal trainer: Richard Simmons, of the Sweatin' to the Oldies tapes!" Richard momentarily turned to a camera. "Available now at a Wal-Greens or Jewel/Osco near you!" Richard turned back to Dudley and frowned at the lack of recognition. "Oh, I suppose I'm not as well known outside of the States. Well, anyway." Richard waved his hand dismissively. "When my good friend Oprah received your mother's heart-wrenching letter, she immediately turned to me for assistance." Richard started to dab his eyes dramatically. "The letter just screamed layers upon layers of sadness and frustration at seeing her young, impressionable son wasting away under years and years of flab. So I just said to myself, 'Richie, you're going to hop on the first plane to England and help this poor boy!' And so here I am. Are you ready to change your life, Doddee? A positive change? Are you ready to..." Richard turned to a camera, raised his hands above his head gaily and grinned. "SWEAT TO THE OLDIES?"

Dudley didn't answer. He'd blacked out and was lying on the floor in a heap.