can’t!” Rebecca cried, pulling the pig towards her.

“But...but!” Baloo protested, keeping his frightened eyes on the lion.

“This pig’s still gonna make me rich,” Rebecca averred.

“You ever heard of the phrase ‘dead broke’?” Baloo murmured, watching with horror as the lion crouched, preparing to spring. “Well, you’re gonna be ‘dead rich’.”

The lion pounced. Baloo and Kit, with the lion in pursuit, ran one way while Rebecca and the pig ran another way.

Or actually, the pig ran while Rebecca, clinging to the leash, was swept through the thick underbrush. She discovered how difficult it was to sing with a mouthful of leaves. “When the wind blows...cough, cough. When the bow breaks...cough, cough. And down will come baby, cradle and all...ahhh.”

When the song ended, the pig plopped down on a pile of grass and fell asleep as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You dumb pig! I’ve had it with you.” Furious, Rebecca went to kick the snoring pig, but before her foot made contact with the pig’s hide, it rolled over on its back. She found herself sitting on the moist ground - lost, tired, and truffle-less.

She started to weep from exhaustion and disappointment. Baloo had been right once again. Blast that bear! The truffle idea hadbeen silly. If she had listened to him in the first place and had bought a pontoon instead of a pig, everything wouldn’t be higgledy-piggledy now, and she still would have $250.23.

Rebecca reached for something, anything to dry her tears with. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that there was a truffle in her hand. Her tears turned to a crow of triumph. “Victory! A truffle!”

Her prize obtained, she began to gloat over her success. “I knew it! I knew this pig would find me truffles! Why, if Baloo were here, I’d tell him.”

Because the pig heard her talking, it awoke. It was ravenous, as always; ergo, it ate the closest edible thing - the truffle that Rebecca held.

“My truffle! You ate my truffle!” Rebecca wrenched the pig’s jaws open and yelled threats into its cavernous mouth. “Give me my truffle! If you don’t find me another truffle, that’s going to be the last mouthful you ever...”

Detecting a delectable odor, the pig turned its head and, seeing hog heaven, squealed happily.

Rebecca’s eyes followed the pig’s. Before her was the valley of the truffles. Truffles as far as the eye could see. They were hers! All hers! She was filthy, stinking rich!

She slid through the truffles and scooped up as many as she could. To the tune of “I’m in the Money”, she sang, “I’m in the truffles! I’m in the truffles!” Spying an enormous truffle that would fetch an enormous price, she yanked it out of the ground with a greedy, “Come to mama!”

The pig let out an agitated squeal.

But Rebecca ignored the pig’s warning. Instead, she rebuked it with a “Quiet!” and automatically reached for another truffle. “Look at the size of this one. And ugly, too.” She peered closer at the ‘truffle’.

It turned out to be a pygmy - a short, fierce-looking alligator wearing a grass skirt, a yellow-and-black striped collar, and a red feather headdress. She was surrounded by pygmies identical to the one she held by the tail, and, although they were half her size, all of them had very sharp spears.

“Oh, pygmies! Truffle, anyone?” Rebecca said with a nervous chuckle.

The Pygmy Village

The pygmies lived deep in the heart of the jungle. Their ancient civilization revolved around their god - Oogachaka. According to pygmy legend, Oogachaka would bring great things to the pygmies if they sacrificed a pig to it once every moon.

It had been many moons since the last pig had been sacrificed. Pigs were scarce in that part of the jungle, because the pygmies over-hunted them. Pork was their favorite dish. However, the pygmies thought that their lack of pork was due to the lack of sacrifices, consequently, angering Oogachaka. But now, since they had captured an especially large pig, perhaps the great and powerful Oogachaka would be appeased and once more favor them with a bountiful supply of pork.

Dusk was falling when the pygmy warriors returned to their village carrying the spoils of the hunt - a pig and a person. Both captives dangled from a stout stick, to which they were securely tied hand and foot. Because the pygmies were so short, the captives backsides almost scraped the ground.

Rebecca became more frightened with each jostling step that the pygmies took. She peered around the pygmy in front of her to catch a glimpse of where they were taking her. Up ahead was a clearing. By flickering torchlight, she could vaguely make out a cluster of grass-roofed huts, all adorned with alligator heads over the doorways. If that wasn’t scary enough, a larger-than-life stone statue of Oogachaka - a ferocious-looking alligator - stood at the far end of the village. Large, dark, and forbidding, Oogachaka stood with claws outstretched, teeth bared, as if ready to devour its prey.

As Rebecca and the pig were paraded through the village, the pygmies’ repetitive chant of “Oogachaka, Oogachaka, Ooga, Ooga, Oogachaka...” became louder and their dancing became wilder.

Rebecca tried to wriggle out of the ropes, but it was futile. In an attempt to reassure herself, she murmured, “You’re pygmies, right? You like pigs, not people. So I’m safe, huh?" Then, desperately, "Where’s Baloo when I need him?”

Back to the Chase

Through the dark jungle, Baloo and Kit ran as fast as they could. They ducked and dodged their way through the obstacle course of trees, occasionally stumbling over roots. Damp leaves slapped their faces, and prickly shrubs scratched their skins.

“Is the lion still back there?” Kit puffed.

ROAR!

“There’s your answer, kid,” Baloo panted. “Man, if Becky ever gets me involved in one of her cockamamie ideas again, I’ll...I’ll...”

ROAR!

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Papa Bear.”

“Well, like I always say, if ya can’t outrun ‘em, out-climb ‘em.” Baloo picked Kit up and tossed him into the nearest tree.

Kit reached down and helped Baloo up. They sat on the branch, trying to catch their breaths.

“I read...somewheres...that lions don’t climb...trees,” Baloo gasped out, holding the stitch in his side. “We’ll be safe up here.”

They held their breaths as the shadowy form of the lion halted under their tree, then circled it three times. Both bears expelled a sigh of relief when it softly padded away.

Baloo and Kit yelped when the lion leaped out of nowhere, sunk its claws into their tree’s trunk, and started to climb.

“Oh, man!” Baloo whimpered. He lifted Kit up to the next branch and scrambled up after him.

But no matter how high they climbed, the lion was always right behind. To make matter worse, they were running out of tree.

Watching the lion come closer, Kit said, “I thought you read in a book somewhere lions don’t climb trees, Baloo.”

“Can I help it if this lion didn’t read the same book?” Maybe it was llama, not lion.

The lion climbed to the branch beneath them and swiped his huge paw at the bears, prompting fearful yelps.

Baloo quickly looked around for a means of escape. Spying a nearby vine, he cried, “Ah-ha!” He seized the vine in one hand, tugged on it to make sure that it was secure, and scooped up Kit with the other hand. “Hang on, partner. I saw this once in a movie.” With a weak Tarzan yell, Baloo leapt off of the branch.

Unfortunately, the vine snapped, sending Baloo and Kit hurtling to the ground where they landed in a pile of leaves.

Kit surfaced, saying sardonically, “Is that what happened in the movie?”

To save face, Baloo murmured, “Uh...yeah, yeah. Exactly.”

ROAR!

Kit took off with Baloo right behind him. They ran and ran and ran, not caring in what direction as long as it was away from that lion. A few minutes later, they happened to stumble across the pygmy village.

“Man, talk about jumpin’ out of the fryin’ pan into the fire,” Baloo whispered as they crept up behind a wall separating the jungle from the village. He cautiously peered through a hole in the wall.

“Who are they?” Kit asked, listening to the chanting.

“Pygmies.”

“One of them sounds like Miz Cunningham.”

“‘Cause one of ‘em is Miz Cunningham.” Baloo picked Kit up, allowing him to see through the hole. He pointed to where the pygmies were prodding her and the pig towards the statue. “That gal would hafta go an’ find herself pygmies.”

Anxiously, Kit said, “We’ve got to do something, Baloo.”

“Yeah, but what?” Baloo’s eyes flitted over the tables set for dinner, the large, black kettle situated at the base of the statue, the firewood stacked underneath the kettle. Then, he saw that the pygmies were forcing Rebecca and the pig up the statue. Despite the jungle heat, the big bear broke out into a cold sweat. Rebecca wasn’t going to be a guest for dinner, she was going to bethe dinner. He, himself, had often wished that he could get rid of his boss, but he had never wanted her to get killed to death. This called for some serious action.

On the Other Side of the Wall

Rebecca and the pig were forced at spear point up the steep, narrow stone steps carved in the back of the statue.

On the top of the statue’s head, a terrified Rebecca gazed out over the village. They were high, very high. The pygmies’ incessant, “Oogachaka, Oogachaka, Ooga, Ooga, Oogachaka” froze the blood in her veins. From the hungry, harsh tone in their voices, she knew that they weren’t saying ‘how do you do’. And then there was that huge

Previous Page

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Next page