The Fire Spitting Bambino

This Thursday, April 18^th, 2019 is like any other at the Hudsons’ house, aka Bill’s Villa. Being a security supervisor at Amazon, Benjamin Hudson has woken up earlier than the rest as usual to report to work. His wife, Jean Hudson, has to drop their 11-year-old Jimmy Hudson to school before proceeding to Westston College where she works as a tutor. Jean’s visiting brother, Haman Morgan, is the only one to leave the house late because he has “a few things to do in town,” as he said two days ago when he came calling. So they leave him home alone.

The Hudsons had relocated to Doncaster from Bradford only a few months prior. There were several reasons why they moved to this town. They had lost two close members of the family in as many months. In December, 2017, Benjamin’s mother, Mrs. Deborah Hudson, had been murdered at their family home in Bradford. Four armed robbers had accosted her in the house at around mid-day when everybody else was away. They had wanted the five gold ingots that had been bequeathed to the family by her late husband, Mr. Allan Hudson. Unfortunately, the only person who knew where the said gold ingots were in the house was Benjamin Hudson. Not even Jean Hudson knew where they were.

Mr. Hudson senior had stated in his will that the gold “shall not be sold, disposed of or alienated from the family except in very exceptional circumstances.” Benjamin Hudson was to be the sole custodian.

Deborah Hudson had asserted that she had no knowledge of the gold and even gave them her expensive jewellery and the little hard cash in her position. After ransacking the house in vain, they had nonetheless shot her in the head and chest and left her for dead. She later succumbed to her injuries at the hospital where her neighbours had taken to.

Two months later, Benjamin’s first born son, William Hudson, was killed by a drunken hit-and-run motorist. Bill was cycling to a basketball practice session when a drunken driver, with traffic police in hot pursuit, veered off his lane abruptly hitting Bill from the side and sending him sprawling some ten metres from the impact scene. Bill was pronounced dead on arrival at the nearest hospital.

The other reason for relocating to Doncaster was that Benjamin worked for Amazon as a security supervisor and it was cumbersome to commute from Bradford to Doncaster. Amazon had only two branches in the U.K.: London and Doncaster.

The Hudsons disposed of their family house in Bradford. They used the proceeds and part of Bill’s death compensation money to purchase a modern 4-bedroom house in Doncaster. This house was dubbed Bill’s Villa in honour of William Hudson.

On this evening of Thursday, April 18^th, 2019, the foursome are chit-chatting in the living room while watching TV and waiting for dinner. CNN is replaying a video of Notre-Dame on fire. The Notre-Dame Cathedral in France was blazed by fire earlier in the week. French President Emmanuel Macron is assuring his compatriots and the world that the historical monument would be restored like they have done to other memorials. There is another story about U.S. lawmakers eagerly awaiting the Mueller investigation report on Russia’s involvement in the 2016 U.S. Presidential election, blah, blah, blah…

Benjamin is not a political animal so he is not very attentive to the fuss about what may or may not have happened in the U.S. elections.

Dinner is served by Mrs. Hudson and all settle down to the sumptuous meal. As they indulge in their meal, Jimmy doesn’t seem to be quite settled. He keeps fretting. Whenever he opens his mouth, more times he is talking than eating.

“What’s cooking, Jimmy?” his father asks. “You seem to be excited about something. Would you like to share with us?”

“You’re right, Dad,” Jimmy says. “You guys hardly listen to me most of the time. But I have some interesting news from school.”

“Go on, let’s hear about it. I am sure it’s...” his father says.

“Why don’t let him finish his food first,” Jean interjects. “The news isn’t going anywhere but his food will get cold.”

“True,” says Haman, aka Uncle Hammy. “A good story is digested better with undivided attention.”

“Okay Jimmy,” his father says. “Let’s dine first, and then we can hear the news.”

“Deal,” Jimmy says as he literally attacks his food animatedly.

Jimmy finishes his food earlier than the rest and takes his utensils to the kitchen.

 “Today I can help you wash the utensils, mum, if you guys can finish fast,” Jimmy says. “Don’t forget I have a story to tell.”

“That will be very kind of you, Jimmy,” his mum says. “That’s my darling.”

After dinner, Jimmy takes over. He stands up and clears his throat pompously.

“Mum, Dad, Uncle Hammy,” he says. “I hope you are all ready to listen to my little story. You are at liberty to ask questions at the end of the story.”

“Yes, sir,” Dad says. “You may proceed.”

“I’m playing the lead role in a play that my school has entered in tomorrow’s Regional Drama Competition,” Jimmy says. “The completion runs for four days. The good thing is that the winner and two runners-up will be featured on the BBC.”

“How many schools are participating?” Dad asks.

“Twenty-four.”

“Are there other prizes besides being featured?” Mum asks.

“Yes. There will be monetary awards for the best three entrants.”

“What makes you think you will win?” enquires Uncle Hammy good-humouredly.

“It’s a very good play and I am starring. I know a winning play when I see one.”

“What are the title and the storyline?” Dad asks.

“The play is titled ‘Breaking the Link’,” Jimmy says. “It revolves around six pirates who have stormed a US merchant ship and taken all the 26 sailors on-board hostage.

“I am an elite unit commander of seven commandos tasked with retaking the ship, saving lives and capturing or exterminating the pirates. I storm the ship and actually eliminate all the six pirates.”

“Did you incur any casualties on your side?” Uncle Hammy asks.

“Just one - non-fatal.” 

“What types of weapons are you using on stage?” his mother, who was once a police officer, asks.

“Unfortunately, we are only using popguns.”

“Did you say ‘unfortunately’?” his father asks. “This is only acting; or what weapons would you rather use.”

“We should be allowed to use airguns at least. I actually wanted to carry Bill’s airgun but the teacher refused.”

“Airguns can kill, Jimmy,” Mum said. “The law does not even allow you to own an airgun at your age.”

“But I will 12, next month, Mum.”

“You have to be 18 and above – the age of majority.”

“So, am I now in the age of minority?”

“A minor – you are still a minor.”

“Well, back to the play; my acting was very successful. I was given a standing ovation and some pupils even dubbed me ‘The Fire Spitting Ninja.’”

“Bambino would be better – ‘The Fire Spitting Bambino,’” his father says.

“I am no longer a bambino, Dad. I’m almost twelve. In any case, you should watch me on stage first and you will change your mind.”

“How about ‘The Fire Spitting Prodigy’?” the father asks.

“That sounds better, though not as macho as ‘Ninja.’”

They all laughed.

“Congratulations, son,” Mum says. “You should go to bed now and relax enough for tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, Mum. Why don’t we celebrate my achievements tonight,” Jimmy retorts. “I can sleep later.”

“Jimmy, early to bed and early to rise… Have you forgotten?” Uncle Hammy says.

“Don’t forget it’s your mum’s birthday tomorrow,” Dad says. “We can celebrate both of you then. After all, tomorrow is Friday and you can stay up as much you want.” He adds with finality.

Jimmy goes to bed upstairs, begrudgingly. Meanwhile, the remaining threesome have an ace up their sleeve. They have planned to play Monopoly as they enjoy some alcohol.

When the table is laid and everything put in place, Jimmy seems to have other ideas. He emerges from his bedroom upstairs – there are two bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs – and stood on the upper floor landing. He is holding his guitar. The threesome all gaze up.

“Lady and gentlemen,” Jimmy begins. “I can see you had lined up a small feast for yourselves. No wonder you wanted me out of the way,” he adds laughing. “However, this is not to disrupt your event or complain. It is to add the icing on your cake.

“Without much ado, Lady and gentlemen, it’s now my honour to give you a rendition of the number, One Call Away, by Charlie Puth. You are welcome.”

He strums his guitar and begins his rendition of Charlie Puth’s One Call Away:

I'm only one call away

I'll be there to save the day

Superman got nothing on me

I'm only one call away…



When he finishes the whole song with a fine accompaniment of the guitar, he is applauded by the three adults and given a standing ovation.

“Splendid!” Mom says.

“Magnificent” echoes Uncle Hammy.

“You have just earned yourself another tag – ‘The Singing Maestro,’ Dad says.

“I thank you all for the accolades,” Jimmy says appreciatively. “I now beg to retire.”

“Good night, Maestro!” they all say, almost in unison.

With that, Jimmy retires to bed. The trio discusses Jimmy briefly and how his musical and possibly dramatic future is bright. They then revert to their game of Monopoly while sipping their wine and beer.

Everything is going on smoothly until about 10.30 p.m. when the power suddenly goes out plunging them into total darkness. They all exclaim in different ways and switch on their Smartphones’ lights, except Jean who doesn’t have hers at hand.

“Let me bring the candles,” Jean says as she grabs her husband’s Smartphone and dashes to the kitchen.

She soon returns with a heap of candles and a box of matches. She lights three and puts them on the table. As she is lighting other candles to place in the candle holders, two hooded men suddenly burst into the house through the back door. Both are brandishing revolvers. One is lanky and the other one shorter and stout.

“Put your hands on your heads,” Lanky says.

They comply.

“Who is Benjamin Hudson? The same fellow poses.

“It’s me,” Benjamin says, raising his hand from its position, as if he is in a classroom or a meeting.

“Put back your hand on your head, you son of a b****!” Stout reprimands.

“Listen to me very carefully, Benjamin,” Lanky says in a softer tone now. “It is for your own good. What we are brandishing are not toys and I won’t hesitate to plant a bullet in your mouth if you don’t co-operate. I want you to answer all my questions truthfully and obey all my orders to the letter. Am I clear so far?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have five gold ingots hidden in this house, right?”

“Err… Yes and no,” Benjamin says, hesitantly. “I have five gold ingots but they are not here.

“Where are they?” Stout asks sharply.

“They are in a safe deposit box in my bank,” Benjamin replies.

Lanky laughs scornfully, and then says, “Three are in the bank and two are here; true or false?”

Benjamin hesitates. How did he know this? Is this house…

 Before he can muse further on the hows and whys or decide what to say, Lanky fires a shot that blasts one of the windows on the eastern side of the house.

Jean screams.

“Shut up!” Stout snarls at Jean.

“Benjamin,” Lanky growls, “I don’t need to remind you that we didn’t come here to play games. You either co-operate or we mow all of you down and leave – not witnesses, no trace. Are the two gold ingots here or not?”

“They are here,” Benjamin says, timidly.

“Good boy,” Lanky says, and then turns to Stout, “How many cuffs do we have, Carl?”

“I have two, Boss. I don’t know whether Jack has any. Should I go ask him?”

“No. Let him keep watch. Handcuff the men.”

“Yes, Boss.”

The two men are handcuffed. Lanky holds Benjamin by the waistband, places the revolver muzzle on his temple and orders him to go give him the gold.

Just then, a high-pitched sound rings from the upper floor landing.

“Drop your guns down and put your hands on your heads.” 

They all look up. With the dim light, they barely see a figure on the upper floor landing. Then a click and they can all make out a tactical light fitted on a gun pointing down at them.

 “This is The Fire Spitting Ninja and I said put down your guns and your hands on your heads. Just to show you I’m serious, there you go.”

Burst! Lanky falls down, groaning and writhing in pain. Stout drops his gun.

A trained policewoman, Jean springs and takes possession of the two guns. Just then, another hooded man charges in through the back door and starts shooting indiscriminately. One bullet caches Benjamin on the shoulder and he falls in a heap. Jean aims and shoots the new thug in the forehead, felling him.

Jimmy is soon with them toting his airgun. He goes directly to Stout, frisks him and retrieves two handcuff keys. He uncuffs Dad and cuffs Stout.

He then turns to his dad and says, “Mr. Hudson, please fetch a rope to tie up the groaning pirate. The other one seems to have fallen asleep.”

“Let’s use uncle Hammy’s cuffs, son.”

“Not a chance, Mr. Hudson,” Jimmy says. “He’s one them.”

“What?” Mum and Dad ask in unison.

“Just obey Fire Spitting Bambino, Mr. Hudson, and then we can have a little chat.”

Benjamin ties up Lanky and waits to hear The Fire Spitting Bambino’s next orders.

“Last night,” Jimmy begins, “I eavesdropped on Uncle Hammy’s phone call, just because he was behaving warily. Among other things, here’s what I heard him say, ‘I have ransacked the whole house but can’t find the two gold ingots; I swear. But I am sure he can give you the gold under duress.’ If that doesn’t incriminate him, then I’m neither The Fire Spitting Ninja, nor Bambino, nor Prodigy, nor wise.”

He then turns to Uncle Hammy asks, “Did you utter those words, Mr. Morgan?”

“Yes, I did,” Uncle Hammy answers.  

“Good boy,” Jimmy says.