Master Wildcat

TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

Higher for Hire

One fine afternoon in the tropical city of Cape Suzette, Molly Cunningham and Wildcat were rooting through the scrap pile behind Higher for Hire for a spare clinkenheimer part.

“This it?” asked the six-year-old yellow bear cub, Molly, holding up a cog.

“Nope,” answered Wildcat, a young lion clad in filthy, light blue overalls. “Keep searching, Mollycat.”

“How ‘bout this?” She showed him a rusty clamp.

“Uh-huh. That’s a doohickey. We’re looking for a curly, spring-sprongy thingy.”

Molly tossed it back, wiped her dirty paws on her blue overalls, and kept on digging.

The mechanic pulled out a spring with a beat-up lamp dangling from it. “Here it is, and it’s got a friend.”

“Wow! It looks like Aladdin’s lamp, Wildcat. Maybe there’s a magic genie in it.”

“Hey, yeah! Now, how do you get the genie out?” The lion peered into the spout. “Helloooooo? Anyone home?”

Molly giggled as Wildcat shook the lamp upside down. “That’s not how you do it. You have to rub it.”

“You mean it’s lonely? Guess I can give it a little pat.” He stroked one side. “Poor little thing. Uncle Wildcat will take care of you.”

With a weak puff of smoke, a miniature hippo no bigger than a furry appeared on top of the lamp. He was clad in a white shirt and shorts; he held a tennis racket.

“Wahahahahahahow!” cried Wildcat.

“Neato! Are you a magic genie?” said Molly excitedly.

“No, I live in a cramped lamp, because the rent’s so cheap. Of course I’m a genie, kid!” the tiny hippo snapped sarcastically in his high-pitched voice.

“Will you really grant us three wishes?” The little girl’s eyes sparkled in anticipation.

The genie waved his hand and a parchment appeared before him. “That’s what my union contract says.” He snapped his fingers, causing it to disappear. “Let’s hurry it up so I can get back to my tennis game. What do you want, master?”

“He means you, Wildcat. What do you want most in the whole wide world?”

“Aw...gee...um...” the mechanic stammered.

“Speed it up, slowpoke. Time’s a wasting.” The genie snapped his fingers impatiently, evaporating and reappearing each time he did so.

“Well, small person, before I get presents from you, I need to know your name and address so I know where to send the thank you notes,” said Wildcat politely.

“Okay, okay. Anything to get this show on the road. My name is Martin Q. Genie, Esquire, but my friends call my Marty. My address is this lamp. Let’s get on with it!”

“Is there any place you want to go, Wildcat?” asked Molly helpfully.

“Let’s see. I’ve already been to Mars and met Martians. Don’t have any guacamole to feed the Martians, so I don’t wanna go there again. Um...already met some nice dinosaurs... Hey! Do you know what would be super-duper right now?”

“What? What?” asked Molly, hopping up and down in excitement.

“A reaaaaaalllllly gigantic banana split with all the ice cream flavors in the world,” Wildcat replied with a grin.

“Yeah!” Molly agreed.

The genie tapped his foot restlessly. “Is that an official wish? Say the official phrase ‘I wish’.”

Wildcat nodded. “Marty, I wish I had the biggest banana split in the world.”

“Finally! Haven’t met anyone that took this much time to spit out a wish out since ever!” the genie muttered to himself. “One banana split coming up, or should I say, coming down.”

With a flick of his wrist, a huge bowl - large enough to house the Sea Duck- floated out of the sky and landed on the dock. The dock creaked under its weight. In the bowl was more ice cream than Molly or Wildcat had ever eaten in their entire lives - and that was quite a lot!

“Yummy!” cried Molly and Wildcat simultaneously.

“I’ll get some spoons.” Molly ran inside Higher for Hire to the kitchen.

Baloo, a large grey bear, was there, checking out the contents of the refrigerator. “Where ya runnin’ to with those spoons, Button-nose? Gonna play in the sand?”

She took a deep breath and began her spiel. “We were looking for a something-or-other in the scrap pile and Wildcat found a lamp and inside was a genie named Marty and he said he’d give Wildcat three wishes and Wildcat wished for a great big banana split and it’s here and I’m getting spoons so we can eat it before it melts all over.”

Patting her head, Baloo smiled down at her. “Sounds like a good make-believe game, Molly.”

“But it’s real, Baloo! Come see!” Taking his paw, she tugged him outside.

Baloo’s eyes grew as he gazed upon the awesome splendor of the ice cream confection. “Hey, hey! Now, that’s what I call a banana split! Pass Ol’ Baloo a spoon.”

“Great, another dumb big person,” scoffed Marty from his position on the edge of the ice cream bowl.

“Who’s the elf?” Baloo mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream.

“For your information, fatso, I am an all-powerful genie.” Marty poked Baloo’s stomach with his tiny spoon.

“Hoo-boy! That’s rich!” the pilot hooted, prompting a scowl from Marty.

Molly tugged on Baloo’s shirt. “It’s true, Baloo. He really is a genie.”

Wildcat nodded vigorously. “Yeah, man. He, like, made this ice cream appear out of somewhere.”

“Okay, mister all-powerful genie - if that’s who you are - I’d like a million shaboozies right here, right now,” requested Baloo.

“Sorry. No can do. Only the lion can wish for things. He’s the master of the lamp until he uses up all three wishes. Read the rules if you don’t believe me.” A long parchment unfurled before Baloo’s eyes.

“Aw, man,” groaned Baloo.

“What are you going to wish for next, Wildcat?” Molly said, licking her spoon. Ice cream dribbled down her chin.

“Uh...I don’t know. Already got everything I need: house, clothes, food, tools, friends. What would you wish for, Mollycat?”

“Me?” A crafty look flashed across Molly’s face. Her eyes shifted from Baloo to Higher for Hire where her mother was working.

Baloo, noticing it, became extremely nervous. “Whoa, doll! If I think what I think yer thinkin’, you’d better think of somethin’ else real fast. No way am I goin’ along with that!”

Molly clamped onto one of the pilot’s legs. Giving him her best wide-eyed cute look, she pleaded, “Doncha wanna be my daddy?”

Baloo gathered her in his arms, saying seriously, “Sure, Pigtails, but that ain’t the problem. Your mom an’ me...nuh-huh, never happenin’. Wouldn’t ya rather have a pony?”

Molly shook her head resolutely.

“Baloo! Get your tail in here pronto!” Rebecca shouted from the door.

Marty chuckled as the bearess yanked Baloo inside by his ear. Rebecca hadn’t even noticed the huge bowl of ice cream. “Making those two get along? That would be a wish worth fulfilling. Laughs galore.”

Just then, Kit, a thirteen-year-old brown bear cub, rode up on his bike. Unloading a sack of groceries from the basket, he said cheerfully, “Hi, guys. What’s going on?” Seeing the building-sized bowl of ice cream, he squeaked out, “Where’d this come from?”

Molly threw her arms around Kit, nearly knocking the sack from his arms. “Kit! Where have you been? You missed all the fun with the magic genie.”

“Magic genie!” In amazement, Kit stared at Marty, mouth agape.

Marty crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Kit. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to stare, kid?”

“Sorry. It’s not every day that I meet a genie, you know,” muttered Kit.

Wildcat turned to Kit. “What would you wish for if you could have anything in the world? I need some knits and other notions.”

Kit beamed. “That’s easy. My own plane.”

Wildcat thought for a second. “That’s a good wish, but the Sea Duck would be a smidgen jealous.”

The sound of Baloo and Rebecca’s arguing inside Higher for Hire grew louder.

Wildcat’s eyes brightened. “I just got this idea that’s, like, in my head. I wish for peace all over the world.”

Marty snapped the contract out. “Sorry, master. The contract states that wishes cannot affect the entire world.”

“Golly gee whizzity. I was sure that was a winner,” said a disappointed Wildcat. “But there’s always been one question that’s constantly bugged me, like, all the time.”

Everyone waited in anticipation.

“I wish to know how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop.”

“Huh?” cried Kit.

“The master has spoken. Let’s find out. What flavor do you all like?”

“Cherry!” exclaimed Molly.

“Raspberry!” replied Kit.

“Orange, ‘cause it’s just like eating a big juicy thing that’s round and orange.” A puzzled Wildcat tapped his temple with his forefinger. “What’s it called again?”

“An orange?” suggested Kit with a sheepish grin.

“That’s it!”

Kit and Molly shared a smile.

Magically, their favorite flavors appeared in their hands.

Marty commanded, “Unwrap Tootsie Pops! Tongues at the ready! And lick! One, two, three...”

The trio continued licking their suckers.

Marty droned, “Three hundred forty-four, three hundred forty-five, three hund...”

SLAM! The door of Higher for Hire banged shut as Baloo stormed out, causing everyone to chomp down on their sucker.

“Awwww!” groaned the cubs.

“Now, I’ll never know the answer to the world’s second most puzzling question,” lamented Wildcat, looking at his bare Tootsie Pop stick.

“What’s the first?” asked Molly curiously.

“Why do hot dogs come in packages of eight and hot dog buns come in packages of ten?”

“I can tell you the answer. It’s simple really,” began Marty.

“Baloo! You get back here, mister, on the double! BALOO!” Rebecca chased after the big bear, waving her clipboard.

Wildcat shook his head. “Those two will never learn to get along. Or a-short. Whichever comes first.”

Smirking, Marty crooked his little finger. “This one’s on the house, master. Time for serious fun and games.”

“Goody!” Molly clapped her hands. “I like games.”

Immediately, Baloo and Rebecca stopped in their tracks and whirled around to face each other.

In a sickly-sweet voice, Baloo asked, “Did you want somethin’, snookie-ookums?”

“Snookie-ookums?” Kit and Molly cried in unison.

The genie rocked with laughter on top of his lamp.

“Yes, jelly-elly roll, I wanted to go over these expense accounts,” Rebecca replied sappily.

“Jelly-elly roll? Ugh!” Molly wrinkled up her nose.

“Anythin’ ya want, poogie-woo,” said Baloo, throwing an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “I loooove goin’ over expense accounts, especially with you, sugar bowl.”

“They could make a fish sea sick.” Kit clutched his stomach.

“That wasn’t very nice, Marty. Change them back,” said Wildcat, frowning.

“Yeah, we like it better when they fight,” said Kit as he watched Baloo and Rebecca spoon-feed each other ice cream. “I just lost my appetite.”

“But this is much more amusing.” Marty grinned slyly.

“Change Mommy and Baloo back right now!” Molly shouted, stomping her foot.

“Okay, okay. Everyone’s a critic. Try to have a little fun, but nooooo...” With a flick of his wrist, Baloo and Rebecca snapped out of the spell.

“Baloo, what in the world are you doing?” Rebecca mumbled in annoyance. The pilot was holding a spoon in her mouth.

He dropped it like a hot potato. “Nuthin’, snookie-ookums.” Blushing furiously, he corrected, “I mean, Rebecca.”

Tweaking his ear, she said, “We’re going to discuss you expense account, jelly-... Oh, my!” She clamped a paw over her mouth.

Baloo laughed. “See, I’m not the only one, Beckers.”

“Something odd is going on here. And where did this ice cream come from?” She glared at the cubs and Wildcat.

Wildcat hid the lamp behind his back, and the kids smiled at her innocently.

Baffled, Rebecca glanced from the ice cream to Baloo to the cubs and back to the ice cream. Her eyes narrowed as she frowned at her pilot. “What is going on here, Baloo?”

Baloo cracked up at her confused expression.

“Don’t you dare laugh, buster!”

“I’m not, Becky - ha-ha - honest engines - hee-hee-hee.”

“I don’t know what you’re in trouble for, but you’re in trouble!”

After winking at Kit, Molly, and Wildcat, Baloo followed Rebecca into Higher for Hire, trying to stifle his snickers.

Over her shoulder, Rebecca ordered, “Wildcat, stop goofing off and get to work on the engines!”

“A-okily-dokily, Ree-becca.” Wildcat saluted her and bonked himself on the head with the lamp.

“That can’t be it, Wildcat. What about your third wish?” said Kit.

“Guess it’ll hafta wait ‘til sometime else.” The mechanic picked up his tool box and climbed onto the Sea Duck’sstarboard engine. The cubs and Marty watched as he rifled through his tools; he selected a hammer. “Let’s see...the clinkenheimer’s connected to the axle-rod, the axle-rod’s connected to the camshaft.” Wildcat pounded a couple of times on the engine. “What’s that, Larry?” He held the hammer up to his ear. “Wish I could understand what you’re saying.”

“Your final wish is granted, master. At last I can get back to my tennis game!” Marty dove back into the lamp’s spout.

Larry the hammer cried, “Hey, you! Stop beating my head against that thing. You’re giving me a pounding headache.”

“Well, beg my pardon, Larry. I’ll just put you back to beddy-bye.” Perplexed, Wildcat placed the hammer back in the tool box.

“Do I have to live with all of these gadgets? The screwdriver’s a little screwy, and the bolts have nuts for friends!” complained the hammer.

Wildcat stared at the hammer, dazed and confused.

“It’s a little cramped in here, too. Do you ever think about building on?”

Shutting the tool box lid quickly, Wildcat remarked, “I liked Larry better when he wasn’t so loud.”

“Maybe Marty can fix it.” Molly knocked on the lamp.

“Go away!” shouted Marty. “It’s my turn to serve.”

“No, you have to rub it.” Kit picked up the lamp and polished one side with his shirt sleeve.

Marty once again appeared on top of the lamp. “Now what? This had better be good. I’m winning 30-love.”

“I’m the master of the lamp now, aren’t I?” Kit said excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, kid.” Marty rolled his eyes.

Kit turned the lamp over in his hands. It was inconceivable that such a battered old thing held phenomenal cosmic power. But it did. And he was its master. He could have anything that his heart desired. Only one thing came to mind - the thing that he slept, dreamt, and thought about every ten seconds, at least. But he knew that he had to wish for it carefully. No need for his wish to backfire.

Taking a deep breath, the boy blurted out, “Marty, I wish that I had a Lockhead Mega. Make sure that it’s full-sized, not a model.”

“Don’t get many requests for those,” Marty commented from his position on Kit’s shoulder. “Okay, kid.” With one wave of his hand, a dark green, single-engine plane was floating next to the Sea Duck. Its silver trim gleamed brightly. The seaplane, half the size of the Conwing L-16, had a sleek, aerodynamic design.

“Wow!” Kit breathed. He stood there, awestruck. He couldn’t believe that it was really there and that it was really his. He recalled that Flyboy Magazine said it could exceed speeds of 180 mph.

Wildcat and Molly hurried down the dock to take a peek in the cockpit.

“Good wish, Kit!” Molly shouted.

“This thing has more doohickies than my washing machine,” Wildcat added, peering through the open window at all of the dials and knobs on the instrument panel.

With the lamp clutched tightly in his hands, Kit reverently climbed into the cockpit. The interior was as impressive as the exterior. The grey leather seats were well-padded and were adjustable to fit any size person. The instrument panel was made of glossy dark grey plastic. Chrome encircled every flight instrument dial. Light glinted off of the silver and grey steering yoke.

Sinking carefully into the pilot’s chair, Kit ran his eyes around the cockpit eagerly, almost greedily. His very own plane! “I’m gonna take her for a spin,” he told the others, reveling in the feeling of the smooth control yoke between his fingers.

“Oh, boy!” Molly shouted. She started to scramble into the cockpit.

“No!” Kit snapped angrily, startling the little girl. “You can’t come.”

“Why not, Kit?” Molly whined. Frowning, she stepped back down to the dock.

Even Wildcat, standing beside Molly, looked disappointed.

“I want my first flight in my first plane to be solo,” Kit explained.

Molly fixed her skeptical gaze on him, hands on hips. “Don’t you hafta have a pilot’s license to fly?”

Kit shut the door. “Yeah, but, technically, magic genies who grant you three wishes are only make-believe,” he laughed. “I think this can be classified as a special situation.” He rolled up the window to avoid further uncomfortable questions from Wildcat or Molly.

“Are you sure this is wise, kid? How’s about wishing for flying lessons first?” Marty asked, standing atop the instrument panel.

Kit laughed scornfully. “And waste a wish? No way! I know the standard flight manual inside and out, backwards and forwards.”

The engine purred to life.

Marty said, “Yeah, but do you know how to fly?” He securely wrapped the seatbelt around his lamp several times.

Kit flipped a switch. He thought it was to reverse the prop. After all, that was where the switch to reverse the props was located on the Sea Duck. However, the windshield wipers started up. “Hm...” He studied the switches and knobs with a critical eye. Finally, he just flipped switches randomly until he found the one he wanted.

“Sure ya don’t wanna wish for flying lessons? I have an uncle. He’ll give you a good deal. Even teach ya the fancy stuff,” Marty said in desperation as the plane taxied into the harbor.

“Relax. I’ve flown before.” Kit pushed up the throttled. The green plane skimmed over the water’s surface, picking up speed.

“Watch out for that ship!” The genie covered his eyes.

Kit yanked the steering yoke over. The plane skittered sharply to the left, causing a huge spray of water to splash in the faces of those aboard the ship.

“Whoa!” Marty exclaimed, thrown back in his seat with centrifugal force. The plane’s wing missed the ship by mere inches.

Kit bit his lip in concentration and turned the plane around. Before them was a clear runway. Revving the engine, he said, “Let’s see what this baby can do!”

“Oh, no!” Marty yelled as the seaplane skipped on top of the waves. He snapped his fingers to make an airsick bag appear. He promptly buried his head in it.

“Wahoo! I’m flying!” Kit said exultantly as the plane lifted into the sky. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Marty made the airsick bag disappear with a shaky snap of his fingers. His face was a pale shade of green. “Yeah, kid, not,” he gulped, “bad at all.” Looking right at the camera, he said incredulously, “ I’m missing a tennis game for this?”

The plane banked to the right to circle the harbor. But Kit, misjudging the turn, over-steered, sending them lunging towards the ocean. To correct it, the boy yanked the control yoke to the left, but it only made the situation worse. The seaplane went careening -lurching right and left - towards downtown Cape Suzette.

“Oh, man, I wish Baloo was here!” Kit cried as the forest of skyscrapers loomed closer and closer.

“Your second wish is granted.” With a snap of Marty’s fingers, Baloo was in the co-pilot’s seat.

There was only one problem - the big grey bear was sound asleep.

“Baloo! Papa Bear! Wake up!” Kit shouted frantically as he zigzagged between buildings. Cold sweat drizzled down the back of his neck.

But Baloo continued to snore, unfazed.

The lamp popped out from underneath Baloo’s backside. With an annoyed grunt of exertion, Marty also appeared.

“Why won’t he wake up?” Kit asked as the wingtips ricocheted off of two buildings. He was fighting with all of his strength just to keep the plane steady. It took all of his concentration to keep them from smacking headlong into a building.

“You wished for him to be here,” said Marty complacently, digging his tennis racket out from underneath Baloo. Ruefully, he examined the bent handle and broken strings. “You said nothing about him being conscious.”

“Thanks a lot, Marty,” Kit spat sarcastically. Dodging buildings, he began to doubt the wisdom of his wish for a plane. Why hadn't he wished for something safe? Like a new bike? Or maybe a homework-completing machine? Or a simple yo-yo? Anything but a plane!

Suddenly, right in front of them, Khan Towers appeared.

“Aahhh!” they both screamed at the top of their lungs.

Kit pulled back hard on the stick. The bottom of the plane’s fuselage scraped a long groove in the brick exterior of the building as well as countless windows as it traversed the entire top half of the skyscraper. Baloo continued to snore.

Khan’s employees watched the scene out the windows, dumbfounded. When Shere Khan’s gigantic window was scratched with a loud, high-pitched SCREECH, the tiger businessman looked up from his multi-billion dollar contract. His face darkened, and he picked up the telephone.

When they finally soared over the tip-top of the building, they heard the sound of police sirens. Two police cruisers were on their tail.

Kit groaned, wiping cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “I don’t even have my learner’s permit. Miz Cunningham will ground me for life!”

“You still have one wish left,” Marty reminded him.

“I don’t want to waste it on fixing a building,” Kit retorted.

From out of nowhere came a fleet of grey fighter planes - Shere Khan’s personal air force. They swarmed the Lockhead Mega like honeybees circling a flower.

“Oh, no! Khan’s men!” Kit said. “What else can go wrong?”

At the signal from their commander, Khan’s planes swooped over the green seaplane, machine guns blazing.

“Don’t say that ever again!” Scared, Marty said, “I suggest landing before you do any more damage.” He hopped into Baloo’s pocket.

“Me do damage? They’re the ones shooting up my plane!”

A line of bullets cut through the control panel dangerously close to Kit’s hands.

“I don’t know how to dogfight! I can barely keep it steady! BALOO, WAKE UP!”

Baloo mumbled in his sleep and shifted in his chair - but he slept on.

The sirens were getting closer. Over the megaphone, an officer shouted, “You in the green plane, pull over!”

“Okay, fine. We’ll land.” Kit sighed, turning the plane towards the harbor. Nothing was going as planned anyway. “Now, how do I land again?”

“You don’t know how to land?” Marty shrieked.

Kit shook his head. “I’ve only successfully landed once, and that was with Baloo helping me.”

Marty kicked Baloo’s arm repeatedly with his tiny foot. “Wake up, fatso!” His high-pitched voice was muffled when the big bear slammed a paw down over him.

Crawling out from under the snoring bear’s hand, Marty said dizzily, “He’s not only a heavy sleeper, he’s heavy!”

Kit racked his brain to remember all of the steps that Baloo performed when he landed the Sea Duck, but the knobs and switches were in different places on the instrument panel and there were more of them. He pushed forward on the stick and pulled back on the throttle. “There’s a lot to remember!”

Marty, perched on the control panel, screamed, “If you don’t get the nose up, we won’t remember anything ever again!” He buried his face in his hands.

The plane dove closer and closer to the ocean. Just before they struck into the water, Kit got the nose up. The Lockhead Mega submerged, then bobbed up like a cork.

“Where are the brakes on this thing?” Kit shouted as a wave engulfed them. He pushed down on every foot pedal there was.

Marty disappeared into the lamp’s spout, whimpering.

What happened next seemed like a horrible, slow-motion dream to Kit. Eyes tight shut, he hung onto the control yoke for dear life as the seaplane smashed into the dock in front of Higher for Hire, sending chunks of wood flying. The wood pummeled the Sea Duck, putting big dents in its fuselage The green plane was propelled over the dock, crashed through Higher for Hire’s warehouse, splintering it to smithereens. It stopped only when its nose touched Rebecca’s desk.

Kit cracked one eye, then the other open. He turned off the engine. He looked, aghast, at the mess he and his new plane had caused.

Baloo awoke. Yawning and stretching, he asked sleepily, “Did I miss somethin’?”

When the dust cleared, Rebecca was coughing and staring at Kit in shocked amazement. Then, she rose from her desk. He had never seen her look so furious.

Rebecca waggled a finger at the boy. She was seething with so much anger that smoke almost billowed from her ears. “GET DOWN HERE, YOUNG MAN! You have a lot of explaining to do! The call I got from Shere Khan about you wrecking his building better be a practical joke! And where did you get that plane? Why were you flying instead of Baloo?”

The wail of police sirens mingled with his boss's ranting made the knot in Kit’s stomach tighten.

“Jeepers,” Kit murmured, quaking with fear as he opened the cockpit door. “I wish we’d never found this lamp.”

“Your third wish has been granted,” Marty said. He snapped his tiny fingers.

Everything whirled around.

One fine afternoon in the tropical city of Cape Suzette, Molly Cunningham and Wildcat were rooting through the scrap pile behind Higher for Hire for a spare clinkenheimer part.

“This it?” asked the six-year-old yellow bear cub, Molly, holding up a cog.

“Nope,” answered Wildcat, a young lion clad in filthy, light blue overalls. “Keep searching, Mollycat.”

“How ‘bout this?” She showed him a rusty clamp.

“Uh-huh. That’s a doohickey. We’re looking for a curly, spring-sprongy thingy.”

Molly tossed it back, wiped her dirty paws on her blue overalls, and kept on digging.

The mechanic pulled out a spring with a beat-up lamp dangling from it. “Here it is.” Getting to his feet, he tossed the lamp aside. “Now, we can make the Sea Duck feel aaaaalllll better.”

“Can I help?” Molly begged.

"You betcha." Wildcat handed her a package of bubble gum. “Start chewing, Mollycat.”

A puppy trotted around the corner of Higher for little brown and white terrier chomped the lamp’s handle between its teeth and scampered off to bury its new-found treasure.

Inside the jolting lamp, Marty’s voice echoed, “Hey, Fido! Put this thing down! This lamp is not a chew toy! Sit! Heel! Stay! Oh, no, not the tennis court! Heeeeeellllllppp!”

The End