Easy Money the Hard Way
part 1
or
Watoosi is What You Get

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

Cape Suzette
Higher for Hire
March 1937
Thursday Afternoon

Rebecca Cunningham, owner of Higher for Hire air cargo service, sat at her desk. Chin propped on her hand, she stared at the open ledger in discouragement.

Higher for Hire had been open for two-and-a-half months, and this was the first time that it had been in the black. Four dollars and twenty-eight cents in the black to be exact. It had been a long, hard, tedious, taxing struggle to climb out of the hole that its former owner, her pilot, had dug. In fact, it had been more of a struggle than she had anticipated. Not only was the air cargo racket a tight market, her small, foundling business had to compete against established conglomerates like Khan Industries. Actually, under the circumstances, Higher for Hire was doing marvelously.

However, merely being out of debt wasn’t enough for this petite brown bearess. She wanted a bulging bank account; she wanted freedom from scrimping and saving and contriving. Surely she, an intelligent businesswoman with an MBA, could think of a way to make money faster.

What would they do in business school? she asked herself, mentally putting a few zeroes behind the number at the bottom of the column.

This called for some serious action.

Rebecca opened the bottom desk drawer and drew out her purse. She would go window shopping. Shopping had always helped to clear her mind, it cheered her up, and perhaps she’d pick up an idea to make a large profit in the process.

Higher for Hire
Later That Evening

Rebecca was once again stationed at her desk. The discouragement that had been on her face earlier that day had been replaced by determination. The desktop was littered with maps, travel guides, fashion magazines, and a couple of encyclopedia volumes. While she perused these resources, Molly, her six-year-old daughter, sat on her lap and played with a large white feather.

Both the brown bearess and the yellow cub looked up when two male bears - Higher for Hire’s flight crew - stepped from the twilight into the office and strolled over to the desk.

Baloo, a big grey bear, said jovially, “Another mission successfully completed by Cape Suzette’s best team, Becky. Delivered forty crates of them plastic thingies that go on the end of your shoelaces to the Heart an’ Sole Shoe Factory.” The pilot handed a slip of paper to Rebecca and clapped his twelve-year-old navigator on the shoulder. “Whattaya call ‘em again, partner?”

“Uh, the little plastic thingies that go on the end of your shoelaces?” Kit, a small brown bear cub, replied with a shrug and a sheepish grin.

“An’ we were even on time ta boot. Get it? Shoe factory? Boot?” Baloo guffawed.

Molly giggled while Rebecca and Kit exchanged grimaces at the bad pun. Rebecca, Kit, and Molly followed Baloo into the kitchen where the large pilot proceeded to examine the contents of the refrigerator.

“Lookit what we got today,” Molly said. She tugged on the hem of Baloo’s yellow button-down shirt and held up the large white plume. “Baloo! Look!”

Baloo smiled down at the little girl, saying gently, “Yeah, I see it, Button-nose. Big feather.” He piled sandwich materials, a bag of potato chips, and two bottles of strawberry soda pop on the table before plopping down in a hardback chair. He ripped open the bag of chips and crammed a large handful in his mouth. He reached for the loaf of bread only to have his hand smacked away by his boss. “Ouch!”

“I’llmake the sandwiches this time,” Rebecca said emphatically. “I’m tired of you complaining that your salary doesn’t cover your grocery bill. You need to learn how to ration your food.”

“Yeah, yeah, Becky,” Baloo growled as the cubs joined him at the table.

Rebecca got a knife from the silverware drawer and sat down at the table. “Acting like money grows on trees. That’s part of your problem, Baloo.”

“Onlypart of my problem?” the big bear said, his voice rising. Where does she get off criticizin’ my personal life? She don’t own me.

Seeing Baloo’s face turn a pale shade of purple, the cubs squirmed uncomfortably in their seats.

“Yes, you need to learn money management, ” Rebecca replied. Because she was intent on spreading mayonnaise on a slice of bread, she didn’t notice him scowl. She piled ham, cheese, and lettuce on the bread, put a second slice of bread on top, put it on a plate, and handed it to Kit. “And speaking of money, that is a feather from the Ring-necked, Fluffy-tailed Watoosian Ostrich. They’re worth one hundred fifty dollars apiece.”

“The ostriches or the feathers?” Baloo asked, peeved that she had given the first sandwich to Kit. Frowning, he impatiently watched as she made a second sandwich.

“Feathers.” Rebecca handed him the sandwich, which he greedily snatched.

Baloo chomped into the sandwich, devouring half of it in one bite, prompting a look of disgust from Rebecca. After swallowing, he passed the back of his hand over his mayo-ringed mouth. “Wowzers. An’ you just happened to pick one up?” He popped the tab off two bottles of soda with a practiced flick of his thumb and offered one to Kit. “Didn’t know we had any ostriches ‘round these parts.”

“Mommy bought it at a store.” Molly held the soft feather to her cheek. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Baloo choked on his Strawberry Fizzie. “You - cough - wasted a hundred fifty smackers - cough - on an overgrown - cough -pigeon feather?”

“It’s not a waste,” Rebecca countered, placing a plate containing a sandwich and a few potato chips in front of her daughter. “It’s an investment. Did you know, Baloo, that all over the world there are thousands of untapped, future consumers just waiting to consume thousands of commodities that no one has ever thought of selling?”

“Is she speakin’ English?” Baloo asked Kit.

“To put it in simple terms for the simpleminded, Higher for Hire is going to invest in unusual resources to make a profit.”

“Oh, ya mean crazy get-rich-quick schemes,” Baloo murmured derisively, wolfing down the remainder of the sandwich.

Perturbed, Rebecca shot her pilot her patented ‘don’t-push-me’ look. “My latest idea involves going to Watoosi and collecting feathers just like these.”

“An’ how are you gonna get there?” Baloo asked, not liking where this conversation was headed. He took a long swig of his soda. “Watoosi’s more’n just a hop, skip, an’ a jump away.”

“You’re flying me there,” Rebecca said simply, taking a small bite of her sandwich.

Baloo choked on his Strawberry Fizzie again. “Oh, no!” he spluttered as Molly jerked his arm in the air and Kit thumped him vigorously on the back. “Do you know who lives in Watoosi? Watoosian nomads, that’s who.”

“So?”

His eyes watering from his choking fit, Baloo said, “So, Watoosian nomads are the meanest guys in the world.”

“Meaner than Karnage?” Kit asked quietly, thinking of the pirate captain that he had escaped from only a few months previously.

Baloo shot Kit a concerned look across the table. The boy still hadn’t filled him in on the horrors that he had endured at the hands of Don Karnage and his band of air pirates, but he knew that it must have been dreadful. Kit had had nightmare after nightmare, waking up screaming and drenched with sweat. Thinking that he’d like to gethis hands around a certain pirate’s neck, Baloo gave Kit a reassuring smile. “Okay, so the nomads are a close second to ol’ Karny. They’d break your arms an’ legs just for the fun of it. Then, they really go to work on ya.”

Rebecca believed Baloo was being melodramatic again. “As long as we stay away from them, we should be okay. Watoosi is a big country.”

“Not big enough,” Baloo murmured, recalling what fellow pilots had told him about the nomads, not to mention his own run-in with the desert dwellers. “I haven’t told ya the best part, Rebecca. Them fluffy-necked-whatchamacallits are these nomads’ pets.”

“I’m sure if we talk to them reasonably and rationally, businesswoman to nomad, they’d see things our way and give us a few feathers.”

“Ha! I’d like ta see ya try. They don’t even speak English. The only language they understand is bows an’ arrows, an’ I ain’t gonna be no shish-kebab for a few fuss an’ feathers.”

“You’re flying me there tomorrow, and that’s my final word!” Rebecca said, jabbing her forefinger at his chest with every syllable.

“Tomorrow?” Baloo shot Kit an anguished look; since the next day was a school day, it meant that Kit would not be there to share in the misery. Lucky kid. “But...but...the nomads!”

“It’smy plane! Remember, Baloo, I am your boss.” With an angry toss of her head, she re-wrapped the leftover ham, cheese, and lettuce in their respecting packaging.

While she was putting the food back in the refrigerator, Baloo muttered to Kit out of the corner of his mouth, “Like she ever lets me forget it.”

The Sea Duck
Friday Morning

The early morning sunlight glinted off the orange-trimmed yellow Conwing L-16 as it sliced through the pale pink clouds on its way towards Watoosi.

The barely-awake bear piloting the seaplane was feeling mutinous, and it wasn’t because he hadn’t had his morning cup of coffee. He was inwardly seething, not only because this excursion seemed pointless, but because his boss wouldn’t heed his warnings about the nomads.

Rebecca was becoming more difficult as each day passed. Baloo had never met a more domineering, argumentative, stubborn, irritating female in his life. And yet, during quiet moments, he felt strangely drawn to her; but there hadn’t been many quiet moments. Since he’d been under Rebecca’s thumb, his life had been a whirlwind of work, work,

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