Two More for the Road
part 1

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

Dimitri’s Place
Thembria
April 1925

In a dingy and dreary nightclub on the western edge of Thembria, two Uslandians were in big trouble.

Baloo and Louie stood side-by-side, their backs against the bar, hands in the air. They were shivering, but it was from fear, not from cold. On their left were fifty scowling Thembrians armed to the tusks. On their right were fifty scowling Shropshearians also toting guns. Even Ivan, the bartender, had his pair of Great War pistols stuck in their backs.

Baloo clamped a protective hand over the roll of parchment protruding from his shirt pocket and bit his lip to suppress his nervous smile. “What are we gonna do?”

Sweat beaded on Louie’s brow as his eyes darted around at the unfriendlies. “Dunno, cuz. I’m up for suggestions. Hey, watch where you’re pokin’ that thing, buddy!” He roughly shoved a rifle barrel away. “This haberdashery is real imitation silk.”

The warthogs and border collies moved in closer, all cocking their guns.

Louie gulped. “Sounds like we’re gonna be on the receivin’ end of a one hundred twenty-one gun salute.”

“Swell,” Baloo said sarcastically. Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered, “How’d we get ourselves into this mess anyhoo?”

Baloo’s Air Service
Cape Suzette
The Previous Day

Baloo, a slim and trim grey bear in his mid-twenties, stood before the icebox. A few minutes ago, upon awaking from his between-nap snooze, he had decided to get a snack. There was only one problem - there was no food to be found.

“Aw, just like my tummy. Empty.”

He closed the icebox door and started scrounging around in the cupboards. Like the refrigerator, they were empty, if you didn’t count the dead cockroach lying on its back, its shriveled legs in the air.

“Nuthin’.”

In desperation, Baloo made his way through the cluttered kitchen to the even more cluttered room that served as an office, a living room, and a bedroom. Kicking aside piles of junk, he made a beeline for an old patched armchair and started digging underneath the cushion for loose change. The only things he found were a paperclip, a gum wrapper, and a button.

Discouraged, Baloo plopped down in the chair. When his stomach growled, he said, “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”

He was busted, tapped out, flat broke. The money that he had received for his last delivery had already been spent.

For the past three months, Baloo had literally existed from hand to mouth. He flew a delivery whenever and only whenever he ran out of money.

But that was the way he wanted it. The young cargo pilot had promised himself that when he had scraped together enough money to put a down payment on Baloo’s Air Service along with a Conwing L-16 he called the Sea Duck, he wouldn’t bust his rudder slaving his life away. Flying - that’s what life was all about.

For five grueling years, he had done freelance work, flying other men’s planes, under other men’s thumbs. Flying dangerous, yet high-paying, missions that other pilots wouldn’t even consider. Missions like flying two tons of dynamite through a hurricane. His successful completion of these risky deliveries as well as his natural flair for flying was fast earning him the reputation of the world’s best pilot.

As of this moment, the world’s best pilot was broke. On top of that, he was bored out of his gourd. Entertainment took money, which was what he lacked in the first place.

Baloo patted his empty stomach with a sigh. “No eats. No buckaroos. Guess a hungry pilot’s gotta do what a hungry pilot’s gotta do.”

Reluctantly, he rose from the chair. He grabbed his red pilot’s cap from the top of the dresser, pulled a set of keys from his shirt pocket, and hurried outside. Instead of making his way around the building to the job board, he ran down the dock to where the Sea Duck was moored.

The sight of the yellow and orange seaplane, glistening in the bright sunlight, filled him with joy. The Sea Duck was more than just a cargo plane to Baloo. He could not only travel around the world in it, it meant the world to him.

He greeted his best friend by kissing the cockpit door. “Miss me, baby?”

Baloo climbed into the cockpit. Seconds later, the seaplane’s powerful Superflight 100 engines started up, took off, and disappeared through the opening in the massive cliffs surrounding Cape Suzette.

Moola-Boola

An hour later, the Sea Duck soared over a grass-hut village, which resembled a cluster of mushrooms growing up the side of the lush mountain. Despite its unassuming appearance, the little outpost of Moola-Boola was the trading center of the uncivilized world, the home of thrills, adventure, and easy money.

The seaplane splashed down for a landing in the lagoon and taxied past a set of waterfalls, up to the dock. Baloo, wishing that he had one clamshell to cash in, hopped out and strolled down the dock towards Bobo.

As a cargo pilot, Baloo had been over most of the world. In his travels, he had run into some interesting characters. One of the most interesting was Bobo, a mechanic who made his fortune by chiseling the fortune hunters who drifted through Moola-Boola. The sly rabbit knew all the hot scoops on every cool deal that went down in the trading post.

“Bobo, my main man!” Baloo greeted with a jaunty smile.

“Hey, Baloo,” Bobo said in a gravelly voice, grinning as he looked up from the engine he was tinkering with. “Long time, no see.”

“What’s the scoop? Like, where’s the big-time action?”

Bobo held out an eager hand. “Where’s the money?”

“Uh,” Baloo nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Ya see, it’s like this...”

The rabbit stared at him expectantly, palm still outstretched.

“I’m a little short this time,” Baloo said with what he hoped was a charming smile. “Will ya take a rain check?”

“Nope.” No longer interested, Bobo returned to the engine. “You know the rules. No dough, no info.”

“How about...?”

“Nope.”

Baloo stuck his face in Bobo’s. “What if...?”

“Nope.” The mechanic turned his back on him.

“But!”

“No ifs and or buts about it,” Bobo said coolly. “Wish I could help you, Baloo, but I’ve got myself to think about.”

“Thanks a lot, pal,” Baloo said sardonically. Trudging down the dock towards the Sea Duck, he muttered under his breath, “Wasted all that gas for nuthin’. Doggone it!” As he kicked at the dirt, his stomach growled loudly.

“Psst!”

Baloo looked at the Sea Duck in confusion. “You springin’ a leak, baby?”

“Psst!”

Baloo turned around. There, hurrying towards him was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was a slim canine clad in a simple maroon sarong; a long slit in the skirt revealed a shapely leg. A fringe of black hair fell over her large brown eyes, accentuating her dusky complexion and full ruby red lips. Thick black hair tumbled over her shoulders in smooth waves.

Whoo-hoo! Get a load of the local architecture! Guess this trip wasn’t a total washout after all. He was at her side in a flash. “Well, helloooo,” he crooned.

“Are you the pilot of that plane?” Her velvety voice had a hint of an accent that Baloo couldn’t quite place.

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

Uncertainly, she said, “Did I hear that man say that your name was Baloo?”

“The one and only.” Grinning, he drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest.

She studied his countenance. “You have a nice face. A trustworthy face.”

Baloo, who was somewhat confused, said, “Uh, ditto.”

“I’m Natalia.” She held out a hand, which he eagerly grasped.

“Nice ta make your acquaintance, Natalia.” Seeing a tear trickle down her cheek, he said softly, “Hey...hey, now. What’s makin’ them brown eyes blue?”

“I’m in terrible trouble!” she whispered. Taking a lace-edged handkerchief from her small black purse, she blew her little nose.

He patted her hand comfortingly. “Why doncha tell ol’ Baloo all about it?”

Natalia flashed a quick glance at Bobo. “Can we go inside?” She gestured to the Sea Duck.

“Why, sure thing, little lady.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and led her inside.

Once they were in the seaplane’s cockpit, she said, “Yesterday, I received an urgent message from my two aunties. They were robbed!” Putting her handkerchief to her face, she sobbed again.

“Who would do a mean thing like that?”

“I don’t know.” Shaking her head, she sniffled and daintily dabbed at her nose. Her disjointed words came in a rush. “You see, I’m the only family they have, and they’re the only family Ihave. Now the dear old things are waiting for me for me to help them, and I want to help them. Really, I do. They’re too old to handle this themselves. My money’s gone, and this is all the farther the last pilot would take me. I...I don’t know who to turn to. You must help me!” She clutched Baloo’s arm and gazed up at him imploringly through her large, tear-filled eyes, causing his chivalrous heart to melt. “I must go to Mustgo!”

Baloo shook her off as if she had the plague. “Whoa! Time out! Mustgo? As in the capital city of Thembria? Nuthin’ is gonna get me to go to Thembria. They shoot people there!” He hastily shook her hand, opened the cargo hold door, and prodded her out of the seaplane. “Well, it’s been nice meetin’ ya, but I really gotta be goin’. Good luck and goodbye.”

Just as the engines started up, she pounded on the cockpit window and shouted, “Wait! I didn’t tell you the rest!”

Baloo reluctantly rolled down the window. “What?”

“My aunties will reward you handsomely.”

The young pilot stared at her for a moment as she stood on the dock, her long dark hair whipping around her small, sweet face in the wake of the propellers. If there was something he was a sucker for, it was a pretty face, especially a pretty face with a pair of big brown eyes. With a deep sigh, he opened the door. “All right, I’ll take ya to Mustgo.” He added under his breath, “I’m gonna hate myself in the mornin’...if I make it to mornin’, that is.”

Mustgo, The Glorious People’s Republic of Thembria
An Hour Later

Mustgo, cold, bleak, treeless, and grey, huddled underneath unchanging overcast skies. The majority of the city consisted of rows and rows of government-issued houses exactly identical down to the pitch of their snow-covered roofs and the weak wisps of smoke issuing from their bare stovepipe chimneys. All were overshadowed by the imposing government building that stretched across the entire northern edge of the city.

On a snowy street corner stood the only store in town. An extremely long line containing countless Thembrian citizens extended from the front door. Like their houses, they looked almost identical. All were dressed the same drab, well-worn clothing with the same hopeless look on their faces as they waited to spend their meager government-issued earnings on the bare necessities. Each of these poverty-stricken, broken spirits - who had never had a day of fun in their whole lives, because fun was illegal - cringed whenever an armed member of the Glorious People’s Army or the Sludge Police passed by.

Despite the number of people in the line, the city was eerily silent save for the bitter wind howling around the houses.

The frigid silence was broken by a loud voice crying, “Come one, come all to the Amazing Louie’s! The Amazing Louie knows all, sees all, futures told, fortunes found. For the price of a crisp dollar bill or even a crisp turnip the Amazing Louie will gaze into his crystal ball. Don’t crowd, folks.”

The voice belonged to a young reddish-brown orangutan wearing a shimmering purple cape and a bright pink turban along with a green and blue Hawaeen shirt. He stood, shivering in the ankle-deep snow, in front of a orange-and-white striped tent that was on the sidewalk beside the store. Tacked to the top of the tent was a sign reading: The Amazing Louie, Seer Without Peer. He looked like a colorful bird of paradise in contrast to the dull surroundings.

When nobody approached his tent, Louie said, “Allow me to demonstrate absolutely free of charge.”

He strolled up to a peasant standing in line and said confidently, “I bet I know what you’ll be eatin’ for supper tonight.” He put his fingers to his temple, closed his eyes, and went into a ‘trance’, swaying on his feet. “Oh, Great Spirits, make me a winner. Give me a sign. What is for dinner?” Opening his eyes, he said, “The spirits tell me turnips an’ bread.” He grinned confidently. “Am I right, ma’am?”

Astonished, the woman stammered. “W-why...yes.”

A child, tugging at her ragged skirt, whispered, “Mama, we alwayseat bread and turnips.”

“Hush!”

Louie pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and deftly shuffled them. “For my next trick, I’ll..." seeing two members of the Sludge Police approaching, he concluded, “disappear.”

Before he could get far, one of the burly policemen caught Louie by the cape. In a thick Thembrian accent, he said sternly, “I told you before to leave our glorious citizens alone.”

“Thanks for clearin’ that up, man,” Louie choked out as the officer gave him a rough shake. “Musta had wax in my ears those other times. I thought you said don’t leave ‘em alone.”

“Take him to prison,” the second policeman ordered, pulling a set of handcuffs from his brown uniform.

Rolling his eyes back in his head theatrically, Louie went limp. “Be-bop-alula-a-do-ee-day. The great spirits say somethin’ cold and wet’s comin’ your way.” He scooped up two snowballs with his feet and lobbed them at the policemen’s faces, causing the officer to drop him.

While the cops spluttered, Louie ran to his tent, collapsed it with a push of a button, and tucked it under his arm. “Hate to fortune tell an’ run,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried down the slippery street. “See ya in the next life.”

“Get him!” the first cop exclaimed, blowing his whistle.

All of the peasants in line watched impassively as the policemen tromped down the street in their heavy cleated boots after the fortune teller.

A few blocks away, Louie skidded into an alley and hid behind a pile of crates. He crouched there, panting. Hearing heavy footfalls, he cautiously peeked around the crate.

As the policemen ran by, one of them growled, “When I get my hands on that trouble-making pipsqueak, I’ll make sure he gets two thousand years in Prison Camp Sunnyvale.”

“Or better yet, hung,” the other officer laughed.

Scared, Louie put a hand to his throat and quickly shrank behind the crate. He waited for what seemed like years. Just as he was about to move from his hiding place, he heard voices, but these voices weren’t Thembrian. He cautiously peeked around the crate and, seeing a vision of loveliness, eagerly bounded out of the alley.

In a flash, he latched onto Natalia’s hand. “I must be in heaven, ‘cause I see an angel.”

“Hey, man, get your own girl,” Baloo growled, glaring down at the interfering ape.

“Whattaya know. It’s beauty,” he grinned at Natalia, then wrinkled up his nose in distaste when he glanced at Baloo; “and the beast.”

Baloo’s frown deepened. “You’re no Count Casanova yourself, shorty.”

“Flip ya for her.” Louie pulled out a coin. “Heads I win, tails you lose.”

“All right,” Baloo said readily.

Louie flipped the coin into Baloo’s outstretched palm.

“It’s heads,” the pilot said glumly.

“That means I win. Better luck next time, cuz,” Louie said cheerfully, taking Natalia’s arm and starting down the street.

Baloo stared at coin, scratching his head and muttering, “Heads I win, tails you lose...heads I win, tails you lose...” Then understanding dawned upon him. “Hey!”

He caught up to them and took hold of Natalia’s other arm. An argument ensued, with a very uncomfortable Natalia stuck in the middle.

“You cheated!” Baloo said accusingly.

“I didn’t cheat. You’re just dumb,” Louie said matter-of-factly.

“Dumb, huh? I know enough to know that dames like this ain’t a dime a dozen.”

“I gave you a dime. Go buy yourself another gal.”

“No!” Baloo said stubbornly, tightening his grip on her arm. “I saw her first.”

“Well, I saw her second, an’ two is a bigger number than one.”

“I’ll give you the ol’ one-two.” Baloo let go of Natalia and doubled up his large fists.

“Bring it on, fuzzy!” Louie exclaimed. He, too, clenched his fists and started dancing around like a boxer in a ring.

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” Natalia stepped between the two young men before they started fighting. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’ll start. I’m Natalia, this is Baloo, and you are...?”

“Completely at your mercy,” Louie said with what he believed was a charming smile.

“What a wit!” Natalia said with a girlish giggle.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Sugar Cubes.” Louie winked at her.

“Or just plain flat,” Baloo growled, clenching his fists again.

Louie clenched his fists too and danced around, cape billowing behind him. “That’s it! Let’s see what ya got, cuz.”

Catching a pleading look in Natalia’s eyes, Baloo relaxed his hands. “Nah. I don’t fight circus freaks.”

“The Amazing Louie is no freak,” he said, greatly offended. “He knows all, sees all, futures told, fortunes found.” He batted his eyes at Natalia. “Just ta show you what a nice guy I am, I’ll read your purdy palm for free.”

“All right,” she said, giving him her hand. “What do you see?”

“Hmm...” Louie pointed out specific places on her palm. “Smart, beautiful, and that finger is mighty bare. Just my kind of gal.”

“Hands off the hand, fuzzball. This is my girl, an’ we’ve got to get going.” Pushing Louie roughly aside, he took hold of Natalia’s arm and steered her down the street. “C’mon, Natty.”

Looking over her shoulder, Natalia saw Louie following them like a forlorn puppy. “Baloo...maybe we should help him.” She gestured behind them.

“What, are you still there?” Baloo said, exasperated.

“You got my last dime.”

Baloo flipped it to him. “Here. Call someone who cares.”

“That’s the problem,” Louie sniffed. “I don’t have anyone to call. I’m all by my lonely only.” He sat down on a nearby crate and wailed.

“Oh, you poor man,” Natalia said, rushing to his side.

“Oh, brother,” Baloo murmured, rolling his eyes.

Louie blew his nose on his cape with a loud honk.

“You can come with us to see my aunties,” Natalia offered, patting his arm consolingly.

“He can?” Baloo squeaked.

“I can?”

“Of course,” Natalia cooed with a sweet smile. “The more the merrier.”

Louie whooped and took hold of Natalia’s arm. “Lead on, fair lady.”

They walked through the streets of Mustgo until they came to a house on the northern part of town. Across the snow-packed street the government building loomed. Armed guards stood at every entry way.

To avoid being seen by the officers, Louie ducked behind Baloo, saying, “If there’s one thing you’re good for, it’s a windbreak.”

“I’d like to break somethin’,” the bear growled.

Natalia pulled a slip of paper from her purse. She read it, then looked at the other houses on the street, frowning in concentration. “Ithink this is the address...”

“You mean you’ve never been here before?” Baloo asked.

“No. You see, my deceased parents moved to Singamore after they were first married. That’s where they adopted me. I’ve never seen my aunts.” She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door opened a crack. A high-pitched voice lisped a suspicious, “Yes?”

“Aunt Ivanna? Or are you Aunt Mischa?” Natalia said uncertainly.

“Can it be little Natalia?” The door flew open, revealing a short, stout warthog woman in a faded brown dress. Her grey curls peeked out from beneath a faded blue handkerchief. “Mischa! Mischa, front and center! Natalia is here!”

A tall, stolid woman emerged from the kitchen. With her came the stale aroma of boiled turnips and gruel. Like her sister, she was shabbily dressed, but instead of grey curls, hers were brown. She had a funny, almost wary, smile on her face as she looked at the two men standing behind her niece. In a low, soft voice, she murmured shyly, “Welcome, Natalia...and friends.”

“Don’t stand outside all day! Hurry up! Come in! Come in!” Aunt Ivanna said, pulling them into the house. She gave a quick glance around outside before shutting the door. “Were you followed?”

Confused, Natalia echoed, “Followed? Followed by who?”

“Nobody. Never mind,” Aunt Ivanna stammered, sharing a frightened look with Mischa. “Forget I said that. Make yourselves at home.”

They found themselves in a large parlor sparsely furnished with a threadbare sofa, two squashy armchairs, an old rocking chair, and a brown and maroon braided rug. An ice-encrusted stove, half in the parlor, half in the kitchen, stood in one corner, giving out a modicum of heat, not enough to take the chill out of the air. Curtains made of gunny sacks with ‘Grade-A Thembrian Gruel’ stamped on them were hung over the frosty windows. Despite its shabby appearance, the room was spotlessly clean.

Baloo and Louie flanked Natalia on the couch. Before Ivanna disappeared into the bedroom, she commanded, “Mischa, get our guests some refreshments.”

“Yes, si...sister,” Mischa said timidly. She went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of gruel cookies, which she offered to her guests.

Natalia gingerly nibbled on the hard little rock, then slipped it into her purse when her aunts weren’t looking.

Baloo hungrily chomped into his, but couldn’t bite through it. He was trying to crush it in his massive paws when Louie cried, “Ouch! Is there a dentist in the shack?”

“I’ll get you an icicle,” Mischa offered, hurrying outside.

Finally giving up on the cookie, Baloo slipped it into his pocket. He blew on fingers and rubbed them together, thinking that it was colder inside than outside, if possible.

Louie hid his cookie under the couch cushion, then slyly slipped an arm around Natalia.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Baloo whispered.

“Keepin’ Natalia baby here warm.” He gave her a fond squeeze and leaned his head against her arm.

“Nuh-huh. If anyone keeps her warm it’ll be me.” The bear jerked a thumb at himself.

“If you think that, you’ve got strudel in the noodle.”

Their argument was interrupted by a big bang in the other room.

“What was that?” Natalia asked, wide-eyed.

Ivanna and Mischa, coming into the parlor, exchanged glances.

“We have trouble with...rats,” Ivanna explained as she climbed onto a footstool. From there, she climbed into the rocker.

“Bigrats,” Mischa added swiftly as she gingerly settled on the footstool at her sister’s feet. She handed the icicle to Louie, who put it in his mouth.

Ivanna kicked Mischa’s arm, inciting a contrite, “Sorry.”

“We summoned you here, Natalia, because...” Ivanna suddenly broke off. “Are you sure that we can trust these two outsiders?”

Smiling, Natalia said, “Oh, yes. These brave men volunteered to help me.”

“Hmm...” Pursing her lips, Ivanna peered at Baloo and Louie before continuing. “Two days ago, the safe containing our family jewels was stolen.”

“Jewels?” Baloo exclaimed. An astonished Louie took a bite out of his icicle.

Nodding, Mischa added, “All of Grandmummy’s jewels that she had before the Revolution.”

Ivanna kicked her again.

“Sorry,” Mischa mumbled.

Flashing her sister a warning look, Ivanna lisped, “Since Mischa and I never married...”

“No wonder why,” Louie murmured, thinking that they were the ugliest old crones he’d ever seen.

“The jewels were to go to Natalia after we passed on.” She lowered her voice and said significantly, “They were worth a fortune.”

Baloo and Louie’s ears perked up. “A fortune?”

“Just a small one,” Mischa added, causing Ivanna to ruffle like a little hen.

“I told you before. No short jokes, dear sister!”

“Sorry.”

“Unfortunately, without our jewels, we don’t have the money to go to Shropshear to retrieve them.”

Mischa nodded again. “That’s why we sent a telegram to you, Natalia.”

Natalia asked, “How do you know the jewels are in Shropshear?”

Ivanna handed her a scrap of paper. “The robbers left this.”

It was part of a label. On it was: Dyed in the Wool Yarn Factory, Clipping, Shropshear.

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Natalia said in determination, standing. Both Baloo and Louie, who had been leaning against her, fell inward on each other. “Don’t worry, aunties. We’ll get your jewels back.”

“Whoa there, Natty. These guys might be dangerous,” Baloo said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You stay here. I’ll zip into Shropshear, grab the jewels, and zip out. No problem.”

Poking the bear in the chest, Louie said, “Not on your propellor. If anyone’s gonna play hero, it’s gonna be yours truly.”

“Bandy your japes, ape. I wanted to help her first.”

Before they started a scuffle, Natalia broke in with, “It’s flattering that you both want to help me and my aunts.”

Ivanna, a sly twinkle in her eyes, said, “Yes. Why don’t you young men go and steal...er, get back the jewels while Natalia stays here and visits?”

“I’d love to have a little girl talk.” Mischa fluttered her eyelashes with a giggle. “We can swap cookie recipes.”

Ivanna added, “Furthermore, you’ll be handsomely rewarded, handsomes.”

In a loud aside, Louie said, “She didn’t mean you, Baloo,” prompting a frown from the pilot.

“I know what we’ll do,” Ivanna continued. “Why don’t you meet us at Dimitri’s on the way back from your little adventure? It’s a little restaurant on the western edge of Thembria, right over the border. We’ll discuss your reward over a delectable dinner.”

Baloo’s stomach growled. “My kind of reward!”

“F...food?” Louie echoed, his mouth salivating. Like Baloo, he hadn’t eaten all day.

Simultaneously, both young men said, “Dimitri’s. Got it.”

“Now you must get going. No time to lose,” Ivanna said, pushing them to the door. “Get into the factory, get the safe, and get back here as soon as possible.”

Natalia pecked both aunts on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, dear aunties, as soon as I escort Baloo and Louie to their airplane. Then we can have a nice little visit.”

“How wonderful,” Mischa said, clasping her large hands together with a big smile.

The two Thembrian women stood at the door, waving their handkerchiefs as Baloo, Louie, and Natalia walked towards the airstrip on the outskirts of town. “Good luck, boys!”

Natalia, looking back over her shoulder, smiled. “Aren’t they sweet?”

“Just like candy, Sweet Cakes,” Louie lied.

Sea Duck

Fifteen minutes later, the trio found themselves at the snowy airstrip where the Sea Duck was waiting. Its sleek design and bright coloring was in stark contrast to the grey, hulking Thembrian craft.

“I don’t feel right about putting you two in danger,” Natalia said, her pretty face creased with concern.

“Aw, don’t worry your purdy head, Natty. Danger’s my middle name,” Baloo said jauntily.

“I woulda guessed lily-livered,” Louie smirked.

“How can I ever thank you two?” Natalia said, looking from one young man to the other.

Louie sidled up next to her, grinning. “I’m sure you’ll think of somethin’ by the time we get back.”

Baloo opened the cockpit door, grabbed Louie by the scruff of the neck and tossed him into the plane. He then climbed in after him. “So long, little lady. Heroism calls,” he said, waving his hat.

From the interior of the cockpit, Louie said, “An’ I’m answerin’.”

Baloo closed the door, started up the engines, and yelled out the window, “Don’t worry, Natalia. We’ll be back with your jewels in a jiffy.”

As the Sea Duck taxied down the snowbound runway, Louie said from the co-pilot’s seat, “It’d go faster without you to slow me down.”

“Ha! That’s a laugh. How are you gonna get there? I got the plane.”

Louie tapped his temple. “But I got the plan, Stan.”

Cupping her hands to her mouth, Natalia yelled, “Good luck, my brave heroes!”

Louie scrambled onto Baloo’s lap and stuck his long arm out the window.

Annoyed, Baloo had to crane his neck to see over Louie’s turban. “What are you doing?”

“Wavin’ at Natalia baby.”

“She was wavin’ at me!” Baloo retorted, plucking Louie from his lap and tossing him into the co-pilot’s seat.

Louie snorted and straightened his turban. “Fluff up your pillow and dream, flyboy. She was wavin’ at me. You just happened to be in the way.”

Their argument escalated as the Sea Duck gained altitude and flew west, towards Shropshear and adventures unknown.

End of part 1

Two More for the Road
part 2

Aunties’ House

As soon as Baloo, Louie, and Natalia rounded the corner, Ivanna said in a decidedly male voice, “Quick, Dunder, we have to leave before that girl gets back.”

“But, Agent Spigot, sir, shouldn’t we at least let the old ladies free first?” Dunder opened a closet door, revealing two elderly women, who were bound, gagged, and blindfolded. “You remember what Agent C taught us in spy training.”

“Of course I remember what Agent C taught us in spy training!” Spigot snapped. “What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“How many kinds are there, sir?” Dunder wondered.

Annoyed, Spigot cleared his throat and recited, “Rule number one was never tell anyone you’re a spy.”

“Right, but rule number two was to leave no trace.”

“Hmm...maybe we should blow the house up. Luckily for us, I’m prepared for all situations. I have some dynamite stashed in my snood.”

Dunder shook his head. “It didn’t work when you blew up that shed last week in Tiny Tundra. Agent C threatened to either have you shot or transferred to the military - whichever was easiest.”

Flashing an embarrassed glance at the old women, Spigot whispered, “I told you never to mention that again! It’s top, top secret! Very hush-hush.” He pulled his government-issued pocketknife from his girdle. However, it was just an empty shell; it didn’t have any blades. “Hmpf! Must be left over from the last metal shortage.” Disgusted, he tossed the knife at Dunder. “Don’t just stand there, you ninny! Use your teeth!”

“Yes, Agent Spigot, sir.” Dunder obediently dropped to his knees and started working at the rope knots with his teeth.

When the women were free, Spigot warned, “If you say anything about this to anyone, especially that girl, you will be sent to the firing squad, then have your spleens ripped out.”

“Right. Mum’s the word.” Leaning down, Dunder murmured, “By the way, can I have your cookie recipe? They were really delicious.”

“Dunder!” Spigot shouted from the doorway.

“Coming, Agent Spigot, sir.”

After Spigot and Dunder left, one old woman said to the other, “That’s the third time this month, Letty. Maybe we should move.”

Letty nodded wearily.

Meanwhile, the two ugly ‘women’ were hurrying through the nearly deserted streets. They stopped before a house that looked like any other house in Mustgo. After conspicuously ascertaining that no one was watching them, they ducked inside.

Spigot made his way through the bare, cold room to a door on the opposite side with Dunder right behind. Then the short warthog began rummaging around in his dress pockets. When he failed to find what he was looking for, he started to remove pieces of his disguise, grunting with irritation.

“Lose your key again, sir?” Dunder inquired.

“No, I did not lose it! I just can’t remember where I put it, that’s all,” Spigot said, searching in the lining of his wig.

“I have mine.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“You didn’t ask,” Dunder said simply.

“Give me that!” Spigot swiped the key from his counterpart and inserted it into the lock, causing two doors to slide open.

They stepped into the elevator. Spigot, stretching as far as his short stature would allow, attempted to punch the ‘down’ button, but couldn’t reach it. “Dunder!”

“Sorry.” Dunder lifted Spigot so that he could press the button, then put him back down, asking, “Tell me again, Agent Spigot, sir, why are the Uslandians stealing the safe instead of us?”

“Because they are Uslandians. If the safe is stolen by them, the Shropshearians will blame them, not Thembria. If we’re lucky, it’ll even mean war between the two countries.”

“Oh.” Dunder’s brow creased in confusion. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, you dodo-brain!” Spigot whacked the taller warthog with his wig. “Of course, we were planning on war between Singamore and Shropshear, but this will be better. Usland, the soft white underbelly of the western world, won’t know what hit them.” He chortled with glee.

Just then, the elevator door opened with a ding, and they stepped out and walked through another bare room to another door. On the reinforced metal door was a gold plaque that read: M.U.M, which stood for Ministry Under Mustgo. Standing in front of the door was a hulking armed guard, who seemed to fill the entire room.

“Password,” the guard grunted, peering suspiciously down at them.

“Mellow greetings, joogie doogie,” Spigot said impatiently. “Now let us in!”

“Wrong,” the guard growled.

“Wrong? What do you mean ‘wrong’?”

“That was yesterday’s, sir. Today, it’s...” Dunder whispered in Spigot’s ear.

“I have to say that? Who makes up these passwords?”

“I do,” the unsmiling guard answered.

“And a wonderful password it is, too.” Spigot flashed an uncomfortable look at the guard. “Can’t you say it for us, Dunder?”

Dunder shook his head. “We both have to say it, or they won’t let us in.”

“Okay.” Clearing his throat, Spigot started to sing off-key, “I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

Dunder joined in, doing the actions. “This is my handle. This is my spout.”

The guard sang lustily along with them, also performing the actions. “When I get all steamed up, hear me shout, ‘Tip me over and pour me out’.”

“That song always cracks me up,” the guard said with a straight face. “Okay, you may pass.” Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the door behind him.

When the two agents had entered, the heavy metal door shut behind them with a reverberating clang.

Spigot, with Dunder following faithfully, walked down a long corridor. To either side were numerous doors. The windows in the doors allowed glimpses of a shooting range, camouflage training, the inventing rooms, the radio room, and a room so top-secret that even theydidn’t know what went on in there.

Their destination was at the end of the hall. Spigot rapped on the door before barging in. They found themselves in a room lined with filing cabinets, all locked and all labeled ‘top-secret’. Also in this room was a large metal desk. Seated behind the desk was Agent C, the stocky, stern-faced leader of M.U.M. Standing beside him, pencil and pad in hand, was his scrawny assistant.

“Who’s that?” Agent C asked of his assistant as he slammed a hand over the top-secret paper on his desk.

“Two of your agents - Spigot and Dunder,” the assistant murmured quietly.

Dunder stood just inside the door at attention. Spigot balanced on tiptoe, straining to peek over the desk.

Agent C shook his head and sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Haven’t I had them shot?”

“Not yet.”

“What is it this time, Drainpipe?” Agent C asked gruffly.

“Spigot, Your Spyfulness. Spigot.”

“Are you contradicting your superior?”

“Oh, no, sir! We’re here to report the successful completion of our mission, sir,” he said proudly while Dunder nodded stiffly.

“First time for everything,” Agent C murmured insolently.

Spigot, rocking on his feet, tittered nervously, “Yes, sir.”

Agent C wiped spit from his desk. Taking a key from his uniform pocket, he swivelled in his chair, unlocked the filing cabinet behind him, and started pulling out file after file full of papers. A moment later, he handed a stack of papers to Spigot and Dunder with a curt, “Here.”

“What’s this?” Spigot gasped, his knees buckling under the weight of the pile.

“Standard Successful-Completion-of-Mission forms,” the assistant replied.

Spigot gushed, “Oh, thank you, Agent C! It’s such an honor. We’ll get these filled out promptly and efficiently. We won’t let you down. We promise.”

“Go, Nozzle. Or you will be shot.”

“We’re going. We’re going.” Spigot backed out of the room, bowing repeatedly. Dunder picked up the stray papers that he dropped.

In the hall, Spigot said, “Isn’t this exciting, Dunder? Officialofficial forms for us to fill out.”

“Yes, sir. Lots of forms.”

“Here, take these.”

“Of course, sir,” Dunder said, adding Spigot’s papers to his own stack.

“It’ll probably take us all day. I didn’t know spy work could be so thrilling.” Elated, he hurried down the hall. Dunder, occasionally peeking around the unwieldy stack of papers, tried to keep up as best he could.

The Sea Duck
On the Road to Shropshear

Baloo, reclining in the pilot’s seat, said, “Yup. There’s nuthin’ better than helpin’ a gal in trouble.”

“Unless it’s helpin’ a pretty gal in trouble,” Louie said with a grin from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Forget it, Swami. Natalia’s a one-bear gal.”

“An’ she’s taken all the bear she can bear. It’s time she moved up in the world.” Louie removed his turban and slicked back his thick red hair.

“You mean down, shorty.” Baloo patted his head condescendingly.

“Shows how much you know. I’m the Amazing Louie.”

“Don’t see anythin’ amazing about you.” Before Louie could utter a snide comeback, he said, “Comin’ in for a landing.”

TheSea Duck descended upon Shropshear, a peaceful, pastoral country. The small village of Clipping was nestled between gently rolling green hills dotted with fluffy white sheep. Baloo landed the seaplane in a field bordering the town, causing bleating sheep to scatter in every direction.

When they alighted from the plane, a man - border collie in species - stared at them as he clip-clopped by in his horse-drawn wagon. That man wasn’t the only one who stared at the strangers. As they traversed one of the town’s four streets, curious eyes appeared at every window and door.

“Who would guess that anyone in this one-horse town would steal Natty’s jewels? How would they know about ‘em?” Baloo asked, taking in the thatched-roofed houses that looked like they had been built decades before.

“I dunno,” Louie replied as they neared the outskirts of the village. “I do know that we gotta keep our eyes peeled for the Dyed in the Wool Yarn Factory.”

Baloo abruptly halted in his tracks. “Louie, my man, I think we found it.”

“Well, pluck my face.”

They gazed open-mouthed at a huge, dome-shaped factory, the roof of which was grass-covered. From the air, it would appear to be just another hill. But this ‘hill’ was a little unusual. Fluffy sheep traveled up to the second story on an inclined conveyer belt on the north side of the factory. On the south side, pink-skinned sheared sheep exited the building, riding down the conveyer belt, which ran into a fenced-in pasture. The air was filled with their frightened bleating.

“Now what, cuz?” Louie asked over the din.

Baloo shrugged. “We get in, get the safe, an’ get out.”

“Let’s do it, man.” Louie took a step, then stopped. “Uh, how?”

“With a brilliant plan.” Baloo grinned, tapping his temple.

Louie hooted with derision.

“Hey, this plan is foolproof.”

“Then the fool should try it out. I’ll get in my own way.”

“Suit yourself,” Baloo said with a shrug.

“Let’s make a bet, fuzzy. First one to get the jewels gets Natalia.”

“Deal.” They shook on it and took off in opposite directions.

“Good luck!” Baloo called over his shoulder.

“An’ you’re gonna need it!”

A few minutes later, Baloo, in a blonde wig and pink Swiss-dotted muslin dress, knocked on the front door of the factory with his shepherd’s crook.

The door was opened by the guard. The elderly border collie squinted up at Baloo, then removed a pair of spectacles from his mustard-colored uniform. Putting them to his eyes, he wheezed in a broad Shropshearian accent, “Aye? What can I do fer ya, lassie?”

“Oh, woe is me!” Baloo wailed in a falsetto voice. “I am Little Bo Peep, and I have lost my sheep. Can you help me find them?”

Just then, Louie arrived, attired in the same costume. “I am Little Bo Peep, an’ those are my sheep that are lost.”

“Imposter!” Baloo said angrily.

“Who are you callin’ imposter, baldy?” Louie hooked Baloo’s wig with his shepherd’s crook.

While the two ‘Little Bo Peeps’ squabbled over possession of the lost sheep, the guard closed the door. Hearing it bang shut, they stopped fighting and looked with defeat and disappointment at the door.

“Now what?” Louie asked, letting go of a fistful of Baloo’s fur.

“Plan B,” Baloo said, setting Louie down. He picked up his wig from the ground and plopped it on his head crookedly, impatiently brushing one long blonde braid over his shoulder.

“Plan B?” Louie asked, dragging his shepherd’s crook in the dirt as they trekked back through the village towards the Sea Duck.

“B for Baloo,” the pilot said proudly, jerking his thumb at his chest.

Under his breath, Louie muttered, “B for big bozo, ya mean.”

Baloo bristled with indignation. “Who you callin’ bozo, chimp?”

“Who’re you callin’ chimp, chump?” Louie said heatedly, his face turning as pink as his dress.

All the way back to the seaplane, their argument echoed and re-echoed through the emerald green hills.

An Hour Later

Baloo and Louie were on the factory’s grassy roof. Shovelfuls of dirt flew in their wake as they tunneled through the turf.

“As soon...toss...as we break...toss...through this sod...toss...we’ll...toss...just swing ourselves down...toss...get...toss...the goods...toss...an’ go,” Baloo said, rhythmically throwing dirt over his shoulder between words.

“Dish the dirt faster, cuz. The natives are gettin’ too friendly.” Louie swung his shovel at the sheep flocking around them.

Baloo smirked, “You afraid of a little lamb?”

“Only without mint jelly,” Louie replied, redoubling his digging speed.

“Don’t worry, my man. We’ll have this done in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Clinkwent the shovels. They had hit the hard, metallic roof that was buried under the sod.

“Uh-oh,” Baloo murmured.

“What now, smarty?”

“Take it on the lam!” Baloo shouted. He tossed his shovel aside and took off down the hill.

“Now what kind of cockamamie plan is that?” Turning, Louie saw the factory guard accompanied by a posse of shepherds armed with pitchforks. “A good one.” Like Baloo, he threw down his shovel and ran.

Catching up with the big bear, Louie gasped, “I don’t suppose you got a plan?”

“I got us into this. You get us out. What a team! What a plan!”

“But the safe’s back that way!” Louie puffed, running as fast as his short legs and long arms would allow.

“We’ll worry about the safe after we’re safe!”

Putting on a burst of speed which allowed them to elude their angry pursuers, the duo ran through the field, back to the Sea Duck.

That Night

A faraway owl’s mournful ‘whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo’ was echoed by a sleepy ‘baaaa’ when two shadowy figures cautiously crept through the chilly, foggy night up to the factory.

“This time, my plan can’t fail,” Baloo whispered, peering through the fog to make sure no one was around.

“Optimist,” Louie said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew all we had to do was wait until dark, then sneak in,” he said, slipping his fingers between the window frame and windowsill.

“So, get us in, already.”

“Can’t,” Baloo puffed, struggling to raise the window. “It’s stuck but good.”

“Heh. Wimp.”

“All right, fortune-teller,” Baloo growled. “Let’s see you work your magic.”

Louie pushed the pilot aside and spat on his palms. “Never send a bear to do an ape’s job.” After straining against the stubborn window for a few minutes, he said, “I hate to say it, cuz, but it looks like we gotta work together.”

With a collective grunt of exertion, they pushed the window up with acreak. They stood stock-still, peering through the fog for a moment, afraid that someone might have heard them.

When no one came, Louie crawled through the window. He motioned to Baloo to follow. They found themselves in a dark, silent, cavernous room filled with carding, spinning, and weaving machines, which looked like large, metallic monsters. Far above them stretched the conveyer system that sheep filed through during the day to be washed, dried, and sheared. Stray strands of wool stuck between the floorboards tickled their feet while their noses were tickled by the pungent odor of clean sheep.

“Man, where are the bleachers...mmmph!” Baloo’s question was curtailed by having a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Make with the shh!” Louie pointed to where a flashlight beam was dancing over the machinery.

Ducking behind a loom, they held their breaths as a tall, young guard in a mustard-colored uniform clomped past them, waving his flashlight all around.

Baloo waited until the guard had crossed to the other side of the room before daring to whisper, “Where did Natty’s aunties say the safe was?”

Louie shrugged. “Accordin’ to my recollection...I don’t recollect. I thought you were the detail man.”

“I thought you were. Anyhoo, findin’ a safe in this place’ll be tougher’n findin’ a needle in a haystack.”

“Mighty big haystack,” Louie agreed, his gaze roving around the room. Then he spotted a door behind them adorned with two gold nameplates: Dr. Dalton and Dr. Angus. He tapped Baloo on the shoulder and pointed to the door. “Let’s try the next haystack over.”

Baloo nodded.

Once inside, they strained their eyes to see through the darkness. They were in a small room mostly occupied by two long benches strewn with scraps of fabric, Bunsen burners, notebooks, beakers, and smelly chemicals.

They dropped to the floor when the guard’s flashlight shone through the door’s window. Both breathed a sigh of relief when the flashlight beam moved on.

“Man, that was too close,” Louie murmured, swiping a hand across his sweaty brow.

“See a safe?” Baloo whispered, crawling between the closely-spaced benches to the back of the room.

Louie impatiently swatted at the bear’s foot. “I can’t see nothin’with your size 14s in my way!”

Clang!

“Yeowch!” Baloo yelped, rubbing his sore pate. “Think I found it.”

“That’s usin’ your head,” Louie laughed.

With fumbling fingers, Baloo pulled a book of matches from his pocket and lit one. By the light of the fleeting, flickering flame, he could see that the cast iron safe was a cube, roughly fifteen inches by fifteen inches. It was black and fitted with a silver-knobbed combination lock.

“Can you crack it?” Louie whispered, getting a good look at the safe over Baloo’s shoulder just before the match burnt out.

“Hey, I’m a pilot, not a safecracker.”

“My, oh, me, wish we had some TNT.” Louie cringed when the flashlight passed by the window again. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Sure it just ain’t you?” Baloo retorted.

“Every second we stay here is another second we could get sacked. Let’s make like a nose and blow.”

“Without Natty’s safe?” Baloo said, astonished.

“No,with Natty’s safe.”

“Oh, sure,” Baloo said sarcastically. “An’ how’s it gonna get outta here? Sprout wings an’ fly?”

“You gotta be hidin’ some muscle under all that flab,” Louie said, squeezing the pilot’s biceps.

Baloo gulped. “Carry it?”

“Think of Natalia. Think of how much she’ll thank you.”

Baloo was silent for a while, a dreamy smile on his face.

“Well?”

“I’m thinkin’ about it.”

“Stop thinkin’ an’ start liftin’. The sooner we skedaddle, the safer I’ll feel.”

“Okay.” Baloo got to his feet Lifting it, he groaned, “Where’s a dolly when ya need one?” He teetered for a moment while he regained his balance. The small safe wasn’t as backbreaking as loading and unloading thirty crates of Anvilanian anvils, but, as it had no good handholds, it was just as awkward to tote. “How come you ain’t helpin’ me with this doggone thing?”

“Iam helpin’. Someone’s gotta open the doors for ya,” Louie said blithely, strolling unconcernedly to the door.

Baloo staggered behind him, saying wryly, “Thanks a heap, pal.”

“Don’t mention it, my good man.” Louie opened the door a crack and peered out. Seeing no guard, he threw it wide open. “C’mon. We’re home safe now.”

Then a bright light shone in their faces, blinding them.

“Think again,” Baloo muttered.

“Hold it right there!” the guard commanded.

“No,you hold it!” Baloo lobbed the safe at guard, knocking him over with a pained, “Oof!”

Baloo scooped up the safe and ran as best he could. Not only was the safe slipping through his fingers with every jouncing step, he couldn’t see Louie bumbling through the rows of machinery.

A moment later, the dazed guard staggered to his feet. He reeled for a moment and was forced to lean against a pile of sacks containing newly-sheared wool to steady himself. When his head stopped spinning, he grabbed his pistol from its holster and aimed it towards the pattering of two pairs of not-so-little feet. “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” To prove his point, he fired a shot.

“Step on it, cuz!” Louie said as he and a panting Baloo zigzagged around machinery towards the front door.

“Easy for you to say! You ain’t luggin’ a two ton doorstop,” Baloo puffed.

“Good thing, too. I can only handle pain until it hurts.”

“All right, pain, can we stop a sec?” Baloo said, putting the safe on the floor. “I’m hurtin’.”

“But we’re almost outta here,” Louie hissed impatiently. He pointed to their point of entry - the open window - which was only two rows of machines away.

“I gotta get me a better grip on this thing before I drop it on my tootsies.” Inhaling sharply, Baloo picked up the safe...and promptly lost his balance due to its weight. With a “Whoa-ho-ho!” he backpedaled towards the wall, hitting two switches in the process.

Suddenly, the lights came on and the machines sprang to life with clacking, thudding, bumping and whirring.

“Now look what you did,” Louie said accusingly.

“Me?”

“Stop, you!” The guard ran towards them, gun in hand.

The bad news was that the guard was between them and the open window. The good news was that he was a clutz. He tripped over his own shoelace and fell headlong into a loom, becoming woven into the plaid cloth as the shuttle flew back and forth. Flailing his arms and legs wildly, he shouted, “Heeeeelp!”

“Time to weave,” Baloo joked.

But when they reached the front door, they saw a swarm of villagers approaching, torches in hand. They were armed with everything from pitchforks to frying pans to rifles.

“I don’t think that’s the welcoming committee,” Baloo said apprehensively.

Louie slammed the door shut. “Only one way to go - up.” He bounded over to a ladder and quickly scaled it.

“Hey, I’m a bear, not a mountain goat.”

“Do you wanna be a dead duck? ‘Cause those folks are gonna make a big squawk about us stealin’ this stolen safe.”

“Now that ya mention it...no.” Tucking the safe under one arm, Baloo stepped on the first rung of the ladder. It creaked under his weight. Wobbling slightly, he climbed the ladder one rung at a time, wincing with each creak.

“Ian! Ian! Who was doing all that shooting?” one woman asked hysterically as Ian, the guard, was extracted from the loom.

Before the guard could answer, a man shouted, “There they are!”

Instantly, all eyes were on Baloo, who was in the process of handing the safe to Louie.

“Uh-oh!” Louie murmured.

“Get them!” With a burst of incoherent shouting, the angry mob ran towards the back of the factory where the ladder was.

“Here we go again,” Baloo exclaimed, setting the safe on the ledge upon which the conveyer belt system ran. He then scrambled up the last two rungs.

To their dismay, the conveyer belt started up. To make matters worse, bullets flew around them, ricocheting off nearby metal and the safe with reverberating pings.

“Great. Now we’re movin’ targets,” Baloo groaned. He was struggling to simultaneously run, keep his balance, and regain hold of the heavy safe before it moved too far down the conveyer belt line. Luckily, he was able to scoop up the safe before it was sucked into the wash/dry/shearing machine.

Louie, who was behind Baloo, pushed the bear forward as he ran against the conveyer’s current. If only they could reach the door where the sheep entered, they could escape. “Move it or lose it!”

“Iam losin’ it!” Baloo could feel the safe slipping from his sweaty hands with every bouncing step. Then, he completely lost his balance when a Shropshearian, who had climbed the ladder, grabbed at his leg.

Baloo belly-flopped onto the conveyer belt with an “Oof!” In the process, he lost his grip on the safe, which went flying through the air.

“Pop fly to the short stop!” Louie made a frantic dive over Baloo and caught the safe before it could disappear completely over the ledge. He hung onto the ledge with his toes.

“I gotcha!” Baloo said, hauling both Louie and the safe up.

“That was a close shave,” Louie said with a sigh of relief.

“Speakin’ of close shaves...” Baloo said, gesturing towards the complicated-looking machines that the conveyer belt was propelling them towards.

“Aaaaaahhh!”

Their screams could be heard as they sailed through the automatic sheep washer, dryer, and shearer.

They didn’t stop screaming until they found themselves outside in the cool, foggy night, riding down the conveyer belt to the ground below. Despite the fact that tufts of fur were missing and their clothes were chewed up, they were relatively unscathed.

“Hey, we made it, an’ with the safe.” Baloo grinned, patting the prized item. “Natty’ll be so happy.”

“Don’t break an arm pattin’ yourself on the back. We ain’t out of this yet.”

As if to prove his point, one of the villagers shouted, “There’s the mangy thieves! In that pasture!”

“Aw, man! This is too much like work!” Baloo groaned, once more picking up the safe.

With the angry mob chasing them, they sprinted down the dark, muddy street of Clipping to the Sea Duck. Once inside the seaplane’s cockpit, Baloo made one of the hastiest takeoffs possible despite the lack of visibility.

When they were flying at ten thousand feet, above the fog, Baloo said cheerfully, “Goodbye, Shropshear. Thembria, here we come. I anticipate Orange Fizzies, flashbulbs, an’, with any luck, local beauties panting after my highly-trained pilot’s body.”

“In your dreams,” Louie scoffed. “Natalia’ll be warm for my form.”

“What there is of it, shorty.”

“Who’re you callin’ shorty, fatty?”

“I ain’t fat. I’m big-boned.”

“Yeah,” Louie laughed. “A big bonehead.”

“That ain’t what I meant,” Baloo growled, tightening his grip on the control yoke.

“Sure sounded like it from here, cuz,” Louie said airily.

“You need to get the wax outta your ears - if ya got any ears.” Rubbing the back of his neck and staring straight ahead, Baloo said quietly, “Uh, thanks, man, for helpin’ me. I couldn’t have pulled off that stunt without you.”

Louie beamed at the bear. “I’m touched. Matter of fact, I’m bruised.” His rueful laugh faded into solemnity. “But seriously, Baloo, you’re a pal.” He added swiftly, “Not mine, but somebody’s.”

“Wonder what’s in that safe that’s got everybody all fired up?” Baloo mused, running his eyes over the gauges.

He didn’t have to wonder long, because the crate that the safe was sitting on collapsed under its weight, causing the safe to crash to the deck with a bang! By the force of the impact, the door flew open, spilling its contents.

End of part 2

Two More for the Road
part 3

The Sea Duck

Louie hopped out of the co-pilot’s seat and reached down to pick up the piece of paper that had fallen from the safe. “Polyester,” he read. “Top secret.”

“Polly an’ Ester who?” Baloo said, positioning the autopilot - a crowbar - across the control yoke.

“Not who. What.” Louie squinted at the complicated chemical formulas, then turned it upside-down. No matter how long he looked at it, he could make neither heads nor tails of it. “I’m guessin’ this gobblety-gook’s some kind of instructions on how to make polyester - whatever that is.”

Baloo picked up a strip of beige fabric, which had also come from the safe. “Must be this.”

“Ah, I get it. A text on textiles.” Then, Louie chuckled and pointed to a sketch of a leisure suit on the back of the paper. “Check out these craaaazy threads.”

“Where’s the jewels?” Baloo asked, turning the safe upside-down and shaking it.

“There ain’t no jewels. We’ve been fleeced, cousin.”

“Aw, man.” Baloo set the empty safe down with a bang. “What’re we gonna tell Natty? That little girl will be heartbroken, not to mention her aunts.”

Louie shrugged. “Tell her the truth.” Flashing a toothy grin, he added, “She can cry on my shoulder.”

“Not if she’s busy cryin’ on my shoulder.”

Because they were occupied by their argument, they didn’t notice the fleet of planes following them.

Dimitri’s Place
Thembria
Dawn

On the western edge of Thembria, a squat stone building crouched at a crossroads in the vast emptiness of the great frozen wilderness. Atop the building was an ice-encased sign - the faded ‘Dimitri’s’ was barely legible in the gloomy grey dawn. A few bulky Thembrian airplanes sat in the snow around the nightclub like chickens roosting around a watering hole.

Louie, noting the planes as he hopped out of the Sea Duck, remarked, “Must be the breakfast club.”

“Breakfast?” At the thought of food, Baloo’s stomach growled. It had been a long time since that inedible gruel cookie at Natalia’s aunts’ house. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“Is food all you ever think about?” Louie asked, shivering as he and Baloo fought against the bitter wind to the shelter of the nightclub.

“That...an’ Natalia,” Baloo replied with a dreamy smile.

“Fine. You think about her.” Louie jerked his thumb at himself with a smirk of superiority. “I’ll marry her. You wanna be my best man, doncha?”

“Always was,” Baloo said with his own smirk of superiority as they squeezed through the doorway together.

Fifty pairs of eyes belonging to fifty warthogs wearing the same drab uniform turned towards them when they blew through the door. They silently stared at Baloo and Louie for a few seconds before returning to their pickles, roasted turnips, gruel, and shaved ice. There wasn’t a cheerful face in the place.

Shaking the snow from his feet, Louie frowned as he looked around at the unadorned grey walls, at the silent patrons sitting on hard wooden chairs around circular tables, at the pickles floating in barrels of brine that flanked the plain wooden bar. He thought, Man, talk about your doom and gloom! Watchin’ water freeze has fewer zzzzzs.

Baloo sauntered to the bar and addressed the bartender, who was drying a glass with a white towel. “Hey, buddy.”

The grim warthog studied the bear and ape from beneath his grizzled eyebrows. After a long pause, he said gruffly, “The name’s Ivan.”

“Nice ta meet ya, Ivan. I’m Baloo an’ this here’s Louie.” Baloo held his outstretched hand over the bar.

Ignoring the proffered hand, Ivan grunted and polished the glass more vigorously.

Feeling slightly slighted, Baloo dropped his hand, leaned across the bar, and murmured confidentially, “Listen. Have ya seen two old ladies an’ a bee-you-tiful girl ‘round here?”

Louie added, “The gal’s kind of an iceberg, but, don’t worry. The ol’ Louie heat’ll make her melt right down to butter an’ make her little heart flutter.”

“Buy something, and maybe I will tell you.” Ivan set the glass on a shelf behind the bar. “Maybe.”

“Buy somethin’, huh?” Baloo ran his eyes over the room to see what the other people were eating. The least disgusting dish was a pickle-flavored shaved ice. His appetite faded faster than money disappeared from his pocket. “Gee...I can’t decide.”

Just then, a short, oddly-familiar warthog climbed up onto the barstool beside Baloo. He lisped, “I highly recommend the house speciality.”

“What’s that?”

“A knuckle sandwich and a pound cake for dessert,” Spigot chortled.

Before you could say ‘gotcha’, all of the Thembrians pushed back their chairs with a loud scrape, pulled handguns from their uniforms, and aimed them at the two outsiders.

Baloo and Louie gulped, raised their hands, and backed up into the bar. When they felt Ivan’s Great War pistols stuck in their backs, they jumped and yelped in surprise.

“What did we do?” Baloo cried, his heart pounding.

“Ididn’t do nuthin’,” Louie replied. “It musta been you.”

Before Baloo could retort, Natalia stormed out of the backroom behind the bar, shouting, “Let them go, Agent C! This wasn’t part of our agreement!”

Agent C’s barked, “Silence!” stopped Natalia in her tracks. The director of M.U.M. roughly shoved his way through the flanks of spies until he was standing right in front of her. Fixing his steely gaze on her, he gestured with his gun towards Baloo and Louie and ordered, “Give me the formula and you can go free.”

Natalia glanced around at the roomful of armed spies, then flashed a worried glance in Baloo’s and Louie’s direction. Her lips trembled, but she bravely met Agent C’s eyes. “Promise that you won’t hurt them.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, Agent C said coolly, “If you refuse, you’ll go back to prison for playing in the snow, law breaker.”

A collective gasp of astonishment and a few shocked murmurs arose from the Thembrians.

“Playing in the snow?”

“That is serious!”

Head hung in shame, a dejected Natalia made her way around the bar to Baloo and Louie.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Natty,” Baloo said with a wan smile.

Louie scoffed under his breath, “‘Don’t worry ‘bout it’, he says.”

“Look at it this way, man. How can things get any worse?”

At that moment, fifty Shropshearians toting guns crashed through the door accompanied by a swirl of wind and snow.

“You had to ask,” Louie said sardonically. “Can we start worryin’ now?”

“Yeah.” Baloo swallowed hard. “Now would be a good time.”

The leader of the Shropshearians said, “Hand over the papers and no one gets hurt.”

“Over their dead bodies,” said Spigot from his barstool.

“Hey!” Baloo exclaimed. He clamped a protective hand over the prized papers protruding from his shirt pocket and bit his lip to suppress his nervous smile. “What are we gonna do?”

Sweat beading on his brow as his eyes darted around at the unfriendlies, Louie replied, “Dunno, cuz. I’m up for suggestions. Hey, watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, buddy!” He roughly shoved a rifle barrel away. “This haberdashery is real imitation silk.”

The warthogs and border collies moved in closer, all cocking their guns.

Louie gulped. “Sounds like we’re gonna be on the receivin’ end of a one hundred twenty-one gun salute.”

“Swell,” Baloo said sarcastically. Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered, “How’d we get ourselves into this mess anyhoo?”

“Right now, I’m more worried about gettin’ out of it,” Louie replied. “I’ve been in hot water so long, I feel like a tea bag.”

“Yeah, sure looks like we’re cornered.” The pilot briefly took his eyes off their adversaries to look longingly at the exit. So close, yet so far away.

“Cornered?” Louie’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!”

“Huh? I’m not pickin’ you up on my radar.”

With a wink, Louie whispered, “Follow my lead.” Pretending to strangle Baloo, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “You big galoot! You cornered me into this!”

“Me?” Baloo gasped. He also pretended to strangle Louie while the Thembrians and Shropshearians looked on, wondering what they were doing. They became so engrossed in the quarrel that they lowered their guns and flashed each other questioning glances. “Why you gutless, whinin’ little...”

“Now!” Louie shouted.

At that moment, Louie decked the Thembrian behind Baloo, and Baloo decked the Shropshearian behind Louie. The punch-ees toppled into the person behind them, creating a domino effect.

With a collective shout of protest, a free-for-all broke out. Thembrians slugged Shropshearians and Shropshearians slugged Thembrians in retaliation.

Baloo, Louie, and Natalia stood in the middle of the fray. Natalia shrieked and ducked when a chair and its former occupant sailed over her head and crashed into the bar.

Smash! Three shelves of glasses shattered onto the floor. Glass shards flew everywhere.

Crash!A table flew across the room, plowing over five fighters in its path.

Ka-whoosh! A barrel of pickles got turned over, causing pickles and sticky brine to slop all over the floor. Revelers slipped and slid on pickles.

Beaming with pride, Louie surveyed the fracas that he helped start. “Nowthis is what I call a nightclub.”

“An’ it’s time to say goodnight. Let’s get outta this place!” Baloo grabbed Natalia’s wrist and snaked through the chaos to the door.

At the door, their way was barred by Spigot. Instead of a gun, he held a pickle. “I order you to halt!” He grunted in frustration as he tried to fire the pickle. “Where’s the trigger on this thing?”

Seizing the pickle from Spigot, Louie said, “You really oughtta cut down on these. They’re stuntin’ your growth.”

“Yeah. Pick on someone your own size, shorty.” Without further ado, Baloo picked up Spigot and hung him by the back of his uniform on a wall-mounted coat hook.

“Have fun hangin’ around,” Louie laughed as he, Baloo, and Natalia made their escape.

“Dunder-her-her!” Spigot cried, kicking his legs wildly.

“Coming, Agent Spigot, sir!” Dodging blows and furniture, Dunder carefully picked his way through the waning fight. “Excuse me, pardon me. Oh, that looks bad. I have some salve,” he said, bending down to get a better look at Ivan’s two black eyes and bloody nose. He gently picked the bartender off the floor to lay him on the bar.

“Get over here right this second, soon-to-be-shot-Dunder!”

“Sorry, sir! Right away, sir!” Dropping Ivan on the floor like a hot potato, he rushed to Spigot’s side and lifted him down.

Agent C stormed across the room. His booming voice reverberated over the din. “Nozzle!”

“It’shis fault!” Spigot said, pointing to Dunder. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Sorry,” Dunder apologized.

“This is the last straw. You are the worst spies I’ve ever seen in all my years at the Ministry Under Mustgo.”

“Or M.U.M. for short,” Dunder added.

“Is that a short joke?” Spigot asked, glaring up at Dunder.

“Guilty,” Dunder said ashamedly.

Agent C threw up his hands in frustration. “As of now, you both are transferred to the Glorious People’s Air Corps.”

“The air corps? But, sir, I don’t know how to fly,” Spigot said, groveling on the floor at the director’s feet.

“Even better,” Agent C said with a sinister sneer. Without a backwards glance, he left the building.

Wincing at the bang of the door, Dunder said quietly, “Look at the bright side. At least he didn’t feed us to the polar bears.”

“Poor Grandma,” Spigot said tremulously.

The Sea Duck

“What the heck was that?” Baloo said, flipping switches as fast as his fingers would go. The Sea Duck did a 180 degree spin on the snow before soaring into the air.

“An ambush minus the bush.” Louie peered out the starboard window at the rapidly retreating roof of Dimitri’s Place.

“Everybody in there was tryin’ to kill us!”

Hearing a click behind them, they turned to see Natalia holding a gun. Their hearts sank.

“Here, too, cuz,” Louie said ruefully, raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I-I know we ain’t got your aunties’ jewels, Natty baby, but that’s no reason to give us flow-through ventilation.”

“Yeah,” Baloo chuckled nervously. “We’ll help ya find your jewels, scout’s honor, but I can fly a whole lot better without a gat in my back.”

“There never were any jewels, you idiots,” Natalia said contemptuously. Gone was her shy, sweet facade. In her eyes flashed a glint of malice. Her ruby red lips were curved into an evil sneer.

“Th-there aren’t?” Baloo stammered, twiddling his fingers on the control yoke.

“Ya mean all that jazz about your aunties was a lie?” Louie secretly wondered when Natalia’s evil sister came on board.

“Lies. All lies,” she said unconcernedly. With one manicured fingernail, she stroked the gleaming barrel of the gun.

Indignant at being duped twice in one day, Louie asked, “Well, how come you fabricated all them wild yarns?”

“I needed to get the polyester formula,” Natalia said simply.

“You mean you’re a spy, too?” Louie yelped, nearly jumping out of his seat in astonishment.

“I’m surprised you love-sick imbeciles worked that out all by your half-brained selves,” she said snidely as she reached over the pilot’s seat to pluck the formula from Baloo’s shirt pocket.

“What kind of spy?” Baloo asked.

Louie guessed, “Singamorian? Thembrian? Uslandian?”

“Industrial,” Natalia replied, turning the formula over with a look of satisfaction.

Louie exclaimed, “Industrial!”

“Where’s that?” Baloo whispered in a loud aside to Louie.

“It ain’t no country, cousin. She’s playin’ ‘I spy’ for some company.”

“And getting well-paid for it, too,” Natalia said, her smile broadening, training the gun on Baloo and Louie.

“How come you didn’t know that earlier?” Baloo asked Louie accusingly.

“What am I - a mind reader?” Louie shot back.

“You’re s’posed ta be, Swami.”

“Shut your yaps, both of you!” Natalia ordered.

Baloo and Louie were stunned into silence.

After a moment, Baloo murmured, “Man, we’ve been framed.”

“Like an oil painting,” Louie mumbled.

“Who are ya workin’ for, Natty?” Baloo asked, glancing over his shoulder. Seeing the gun, he quickly added “Uh, if ya don’t mind my askin’, that is.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she said, smiling. Then, her smile turned into a sneer and her eyes gleamed dangerously. “In fact, I think I will.”

“Hold the phone!” Louie said. “Before ya blast us to bits, will ya at least tell us why we’re in this mess?”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Fair enough.” Keeping her gun pointed at them, she began her story. “Last week, I was hired by a fabric company to procure the polyester formula Drs. Angus and Dalton were developing. I was given $5,000, a promise of $95,000 upon delivery, and explicit instructions to make sure that the theft would never be linked to me or the company that hired me.

“That being the case, I needed someone to lay the blame on. Thembria came to mind, because no one is easier to dupe than a Thembrian. Well...” she laughed condescendingly, “except for girl-crazy buffaloes like you two.”

Baloo and Louie bristled, their faces darkening with every syllable she spoke.

“So, I went to Mustgo and played in the snow, knowing that it was illegal. True to Thembrian form, I was arrested and thrown into prison. When I was cross-examined by Agent C, I offered a deal promising the delivery of the polyester formula in exchange for my freedom. His beady little eyes lit up at that idea. Having the polyester formula would allow Thembria to produce inexpensive fabric without importing wool or cotton. And if there’s one thing Thembria needs, it’s cheap, warm clothes for all of their so-called glorious people. It’s cold in Thembria.”

“We noticed,” Baloo and Louie said simultaneously, sharing a brief glance. The pilot made a surreptitious motion with his hands. In response, Louie nodded.

“Now all I needed was someone to steal the formula for me. Agent C gave me detailed instructions on what to do when I found my dupe.”

The guys winced.

“Then he flew me to Moola-Boola where there are alwaysmen who are suckers for a pretty face and the promise of money. I ran into you there," she nodded towards Baloo, "and we went to Thembria where we met up with you, Louie. Two dupes for the price of one."

"Nice knowin' you think so highly of us," Louie muttered sarcastically.

"Thinking the safe contained my aunties’ jewels, you gallantly stole the formula from the Dyed in the Wool Factory for poor, helpless, little me and then went to Dimitri’s where it looked like you tried to sell the formula to the Thembrians. All in all, it worked out better than I planned, and the rest, as they say is history. And speaking of history...” She took a step forward.

Louie sprang from his seat. “Wait, Natty baby. You’re forgettin’ one very important thing.”

“What?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow in suspicion.

“We ain’t as dumb as we look.” He grabbed hold of the back of co-pilot’s seat just as Baloo jerked the control yoke sharply to port.

Because Natalia wasn't hanging onto anything, she lost her balance and skidded across the cockpit on her backside. Before she could get up, Louie snatched the formula from her hand.

“Give that back, you big ape! That doesn’t belong to you!” she shouted, chasing Louie around and around the cockpit.

“What a coinky-dink. It don’t belong to you neither, Baby Cakes!” Louie said before escaping into the cargo hold.

Pounding on the door separating the cockpit from the cargo hold, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “I am not your ‘Baby Cakes’!”

“Nobody’s home,” Louie sang from the other side of the door.

Then, she spied the axe designated for emergencies hanging on the cockpit wall. She seized it and started chopping on the door.

“My baby!” Baloo yelped from the pilot’s seat. “You’re hurtin’ my baby!”

“Who asked you?” Natalia snarled.

“More like, ‘Who axed you?’” Louie murmured to himself as he looked around the cargo hold for a means of egress.

“Hey, I’m still flyin’ this here potlicker,” Baloo said angrily.

“Do you want me to use this on you?” Natalia said, meaning the axe.

“When ya put it that way...” Baloo’s sentence trailed off into a nervous laugh.

With a few well-aimed chops, Natalia severed the doorknob. She dropped the axe, picked up her gun, and entered the cargo hold.

Neither Louie nor the formula was nowhere to be seen. Just the usual cargo hold full of crates, boxes, and litter.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Natalia said, peering around a tower of crates.

“Mind if I just drop in?” Louie asked as a large fishnet fell on her and scooped her up, making her shriek in surprise.

Struggling to escape the heavy net, she dropped her gun. “Let me out of here, you dumb ox!"

Louie secured the pulley system suspending the net from the ceiling, then strolled over to, or rather, under her. “Not until you promise to be a good little spy,” he crooned, tickling her toes.

“Never!” spat the furious figure from inside the net.

“Have it your way.” He picked up the swatch of polyester, and ascending the tower of crates, crammed it into Natalia’s mouth. “Aw...look who’s tongue-tied.”

"Mm-mmm-mmmm!"

Bounding into the cockpit, Louie said, “Hey, cuz, I caught me a whopper-tellin’ whopper. Can I keep her?”

“Nah, she's too mean to keep. We oughta toss her back to the authorities,” Baloo replied, grinning. He and Louie shared a high-five.

Dyed in the Wool Yarn Factory
Clipping, Shropshear

Dr. Angus, an intelligent-looking bovine, said to Baloo and Louie, “How can we ever thank you chaps for returning our polyester formula?”

The collie Dr. Dalton slapped Baloo and Louie on the back. “Yes, ripping good sports of you. Saves us lots of extra work redeveloping it, eh, wot?”

Slipping the formula into his lab coat pocket, Dr. Angus said, “Right. By the by, whatever happened to that industrial spy?”

Baloo and Louie exchanged conspiratorial grins.

“Well,” Louie said, “you could say she’s been put out to pasture.”

Baloo pointed to a flock of sheep clustered around a section of nearby fence. In the middle of the curious sheep was Natalia, bound and gagged. The fishnet that encased her was securely tied to the fence to prevent her from scooting away. Her bedraggled hair hung limp in her face, her dress was wrinkled, and a furious expression marred her pretty features. Her muffled yips of pain and protest could be heard over the bleating.

“That’s what she gets for being baaaaad,” Louie said.

Everyone, except Natalia of course, joined in on the laughter.

The Sea Duck

The seaplane was soaring ten thousand feet above the lush Shropshearian hills when Baloo said, “Sure was nice of them doctors to reward us for returnin’ their formula. Two thousand Shropshearian hounds apiece.”

Louie bit into one of the gold coins, upon which was engraved the image of Shropshear’s King Arfbert, to make sure it was genuine. Satisfied as to its authenticity, he tossed it back into the pouch and pulled the tie strings taut. “What are you gonna do with yours?”

“I’m gonna have a big lunch with a side of dinner.” His mouth was already salivating at the thought. “How ‘bout you?”

Watching the clouds speed by, Louie said, “The fortune-tellin’ act has gone stale. That stop at Dimitri’s got me to thinkin’ ‘bout openin’ a nightclub of my own.”

Baloo’s ears perked up. A nightclub had his two favorite things - food and entertainment - all wrapped up into one convenient package. “In Thembria?”

“No, thank you,” Louie said with a shudder. “I’ve had more’n my fill of them frozen Thembrian stiffs!”

“Then where?”

“Dunno, cuz. Someplace where the people aren’t as cold as the climate.”

Baloo’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “I know just the place. Ever been to Cape Suzette?”

The End