Banana Man (a Novella) (9 page)

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Authors: Christian Blake

BOOK: Banana Man (a Novella)
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He made Danny nervous. The man was mean to Charlie the dog, and Danny didn’t want anything to do with him. Danny decided Banana Man wasn’t worth the risk, so he turned and started to walk away. But then he stopped again. Two streets over near the railroad tracks, a police car turned the corner. It was Officer Tibbs.

 

Danny ducked behind a row of bushes and hid. If the officer spotted him, Tibbs would know Danny had cut across the tracks again and would give him a ticket for breaking the law. Tibbs might even take him to jail. Danny thought about his predicament and concluded the only solution was to follow through with his original plan. He had to make it through the alley.

 

Danny crawled alongside the bushes, trying to stay hidden from Officer Tibbs as long as he could. Then he stood, and continued his journey to the other end of the alley, walking fast but not quite running. There was no point in running, at least not yet. He stayed on the edge of the mud where the ground was firm. He didn’t want to slip and fall like last time. If he could get close to the bushes and the block wall, he would start his sprint at that point, and run all the way home.

 

The man kept his eyes on Danny, and kept grinning from ear to ear like he had a secret and couldn’t wait to share it. He tilted his head back and guzzled some beer. In his right hand he kept swinging that metal thing. Danny didn’t know what the object was but it couldn’t be worse than getting a ticket, or going to jail.

 

As Danny neared the bushes, Charlie the dog growled, and Danny finally realized what the man was swinging in his hand: it was Charlie’s chain. Charlie the dog was loose, and he was nearby. Danny sprinted toward the block wall.

 

The dog burst from the bushes, completely free of its chain.

 

The chase was short and quick. Before the dog could bite Danny’s heels, the boy planted his palms on top of the block wall and scampered up in the nick of time. Charlie jumped at Danny and chomped at his feet, but Danny was safely atop the wall.

 

Danny’s heart pounded and his hands were shaking. The dog would have bit him if he hadn’t got to the block wall as quick as he did. The whole idea of cutting through Tucker Street Alley one more time suddenly sounded like a stupid plan. Danny was stuck on the wall, and he had no idea what the man was going to do next.

 

The man slapped his knee and laughed. “Get him Charlie! Get the kid!” The dog responded to its owner’s encouragement and tried harder to climb the wall, barking and snapping, its nails scratching the cinder block.

 

As Danny clung to the block wall for his life, a police siren wailed for a brief moment, and then a patrol sped into the alley. It was Officer Tibbs. Danny knew he was busted. Tibbs would give him a ticket for trespassing on railroad property, and he would probably take him to jail.

 

The patrol car slid to a stop. Faster than Danny could have imagined the big man could move, Officer Tibbs jumped clear of the car and whipped out a canister from his belt. He pointed it at the dog and fearlessly approached the animal.

 

The dog charged Officer Tibbs.

 

The sleazy man stood up from his chair, and slightly intoxicated, wavered on his skinny legs. He had a worried look on his face as he yelled at Tibbs, “Don’t you hurt my dog you pig!” Then he took a final drink from his beer, crinkled the can, and watched to see what happened when canine and police officer collided.

 

The dog had almost reached Tibbs. Ears back and growling mean, it meant to hurt him.

 

Tibbs calmly aimed the white canister. Then he sprayed a long stream of fluid that hit the dog in the face. White liquid splashed all over Charlie’s mug. The dog skidded to a halt, yelped once, and started rolling around in the mud and breathing harsh and loud.

 

The man stomped over to Officer Tibbs and pointed angrily at his face. Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke. “You son of a bitch! Why’d you spray my dog?”

 

Tibbs remained calm. He kept his eyes on the man and yelled at Danny. “You alright Danny?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Get off that wall and get over here.”

 

Danny carefully dropped off the cinderblock wall and walked over to stand beside Officer Tibbs. He cast a worried glance at the dog but Charlie wasn’t looking good. The dog panted heavily and whined. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth and he scratched at his eyes with both paws.

 

The man pointed his finger at Danny next, and said, “That kid’s been teasing my dog all day!”

 

Tibbs holstered the white canister. “I’m not here to talk about Danny. I’m here to talk about Peter.” Tibbs pointed to his patrol car. Peter Duncan sat in the front passenger seat, his head hung low.

 

The man rolled his eyes in disgust when he saw Peter. “God damn kid. What’d he do now?”

 

Tibbs asked the man, “Are you George Duncan? Peter’s dad?”

 

The man nodded. “Sorry to say I am. That piece of crap is nothing but trouble.”

 

Officer Tibbs gave a sharp whistle between his fingers, and Peter lifted his head. Tibbs waved him over. Peter got out of the police car and walked over to stand beside the officer.

 

“What the hell did you do now Peter?” The man was not happy with Peter and Peter was not happy to be there. Peter stared at the ground and fidgeted with his hands.

 

Tibbs placed one of his big hands on Peter’s shoulder. “Tell your dad what you did.”

 

Peter didn’t answer. He glanced over at Danny, and Danny was looking back at him. Although both boys were nervous and didn’t know what to expect, Peter was terrified. Danny could see it in his eyes. He was either scared of Tibbs, or scared of his dad, or maybe both. However, Danny noted that Peter stood much closer to Officer Tibbs and kept his distance from his dad.

 

After his glance to Danny, Peter stared at the ground and refused to look up.

 

Mr. Duncan advanced toward his son and raised his hand as if to strike him. “Answer him or I swear to God I’ll knock your teeth out!”

 

Tibbs stepped protectively in front of Peter and held his bandaged arm up to stop Mr. Duncan from coming any closer. “Mr. Duncan! Put your hand down. Don’t talk to him like that.” Tibbs pointed at the man’s lawn chair. “Why don’t you sit down while we sort this out.”

 

Anger flashed in Mr. Duncan’s eyes, and he puffed out his chest. “I don’t have to listen to you! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

 

Tibbs kept his eyes on Mr. Duncan and said to Peter, “If you don’t tell him, Peter, I will.”

 

Peter kept silent, staring at the ground.

 

A long minute passed. Nobody talked, and nobody moved except for Mr. Duncan. He was clearly drunk. His movement was slight but Danny could see it: Mr. Duncan swayed back and forth, trying to keep his balance without anyone noticing.

 

Tibbs finally spoke for Peter, “I saw him riding a muddy bicycle in the fields behind the post office, and he admitted to taking it. Your son stole Danny’s bike.”

 

Peter squinted his eyes shut and tucked his chin down until it touched his chest. He knew what was coming.

 

Quick and forceful, Mr. Duncan stepped forward and slapped Peter hard on the side of the head. “Damn kid!” The blow knocked Peter to the ground.

 

The sound of the slap was very loud. It startled Danny. 

 

Yet again, the speed at which the officer could move was surprising. Officer Tibbs took a half step forward and, like a blur, punched Peter’s dad square on the chin. He hit him with his right hand, the one that was bandaged up. Tibbs was a big man, and all the weight behind the punch rocked Mr. Duncan’s balance. He fell backward and landed on his butt in the mud.

 

Danny couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He had never seen a kid get slapped before and he had never seen a man get punched in the face. Sure, men beat each other up on television, but not for real. Not in person.

 

Tibbs stepped toward Mr. Duncan, and the officer’s shadow fell across the man. “You want to hit someone, Mr. Duncan, you hit me. Don’t you touch that boy.”

 

Nobody said anything. Peter rubbed the side of his head, and Mr. Duncan rubbed his own jaw and dabbed blood from his busted lip.

 

“I ain’t going to arrest your son Mr. Duncan. I figure he’s a chip off the old block and that’s probably not much his fault. But the three of us are going to have a little talk. You understand? I can haul you in right now if I want to, and I might just do that. But we’re going to talk first.”

 

The attitude was gone from Mr. Duncan. His face softened and his body relaxed. He shrugged. Then he quietly said, “Okay.”

 

Tibbs turned to Danny. “Go over to the trunk.”

 

Danny walked over to the trunk of the police car.

 

“Press the button.”

 

Danny pressed it, and the trunk lid popped open. Inside was his bike.

 

“Go ahead,” Tibbs said. “Get your bike.”

 

Danny struggled with the bike but managed to drag it out. Then he slammed the trunk shut. He looked at Officer Tibbs.

 

Tibbs said to Peter, “You got something you want to say to Danny?”

 

Peter said, “Sorry for taking your bike. If I could take back what I did, I would. I’m sorry.”

 

Danny didn’t respond. The Peter Duncan he knew would sooner give a kid a black eye than apologize to him. Peter sat in the mud and fumbled with his shoe lace, absently picking mud off it. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Danny.

 

“Go home Danny,” Tibbs said. “You don’t need to be here.”

 

Danny listened to Officer Tibbs and rode his bike home.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Buying Banana Man

 

For the last block of his journey home Danny was forced to walk his bike. The front tire had gone completely flat. Peter probably rode the bike through some bushes and got a thorn stuck in it. It was just another reminder of Danny’s terrible day.

 

When he got home, Danny found his dad snoring on the recliner. His dad had showered and put on fresh clothes. The fire still burned. The piece of oak his dad put in was the only piece of wood left.

 

Danny took care not to wake his dad, and he quietly set the backpack on the floor near the foot of the chair. Then he fed another piece of oak into the flames. Between those two logs, the fire would last the rest of the night.

 

Danny went into the kitchen and hung the mail key back on the hook beside the refrigerator. In the center of the kitchen table, sitting all by its lonesome, was a weathered one dollar bill. His dad must have left it for Danny before he took his nap on the recliner. Danny didn’t hesitate; he swiped the dollar and dashed out the door. Full of renewed hope, the little boy covered in mud ran for several blocks to Cleary’s Market so he could finally buy Banana Man.

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