Up, Up, and Away in My Beautiful Baloo-n
Part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are the property of Disney. All other characters, with the exception of Mrs. Poppins, are mine and cannot be used without permission.

Cape Suzette
Higher for Hire
October 1937

Thirteen-year-old Kit Cloudkicker, leaning against a weathered wooden piling as he sat on the dock, was enjoying the beautiful day. The weather was usually nice in the tropic port of Cape Suzette, but this day seemed even nicer than most: bright sunshine; a few scattered wispy cirrus clouds; seagulls screeching overhead and diving into the sparkling blue harbor, emerging with their catch of a wriggling fish; an occasional seaplane splashing down for a landing; the steady clang of the harbor buoy as it bobbed on the gentle waves. All of it was marred by the unpleasant sound of his Papa Bear and his boss arguing in Higher for Hire’s office.

Kit sadly shook his head. Why can’t those two get along? If they stopped yelling at each other for five minutes maybe they’d realize that they have a lot in common - like Higher for Hire, the Sea Duck.

A loud, “Don’t pop your pearls, lady!” came from Baloo, closely followed by an “OW!”. Rebecca had tweaked Baloo’s ear.

Bad tempers.

This fight was escalating into a rip-roaring battle as the adults’ muffled voices increased in volume. Wryly, he thought, Jeepers! If Molly and I behaved that way, we’d be punished. The boy tried to block out the disagreeable noise by delving into his Space Riders comic book.

To the boy’s dismay, the door flew open, allowing the argument to spill outside.

“Aw...keep yer high-falutin’ opinions to yourself, Becky!” yelled Baloo, standing in the doorway.

“It’s Rebecca, and don’t you forget it, buster! Rebecca! Rebecca!”

“Yeah, I heard ya the first hundred times, Ree-bec-ca!”

“And don’t you come back in here until you’re prepared to do as I say, Baloo! Remember I am your boss!”

Baloo banged the door and stomped down the dock, teeth gritted, fists clenched in rage. Kit could feel his tempestuous footfalls shaking the dock as the overweight grey bear made his way towards him.

Loudly, Baloo growled, “As if she ever lets me forget it. No way, no how are ya gonna get me ta talk to Miz I-Know-Everythin’-An’-You-Don’t-Know-Nuthin’ ever again. If only I had me fifty gees, I’d buy back the Duck an’ leave ol’ bossy boss lady eatin’ my prop wash.” He plopped into his hammock slung under the Sea Duck’s wing. A strong odor of onions clung to him.

Kit looked up from his comic book. He knew that he was going to regret asking, but he was curious. “What did Miz Cunningham say thistime?”

“Called me a lazy slob who could use a bath.” Baloo pulled his red pilot’s hat over his eyes with a vexed sigh. “Ha! A lot she knows.”

“Well, you do smell like onions.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Baloo was off and ranting. “Anyone would after haulin’ ‘em halfway ‘round the world! But that ain’t the point, Li’l Britches. She’s always naggin’ me, insultin’ me, tryin’ ta improve me.” In a falsetto voice, he mocked, “Remember that you represent Higher for Hire. Your appearance is important, Baloo. Brush your hair, Baloo. Just look at that shirt, Baloo; it’s filthy! Why can’t you pick up after yourself, Baloo? This place is a mess! You’re a mess, Baloo!” The big bear snorted, continuing in his bass voice, “Pick, pick, pick all the time. No matter what I do, it ain’t good enough for her. Here I was - on time even - an’ all she says is ‘take a bath’. Not good job, Baloo. Not thank you, Baloo. No smile. Nothin’ positive. Just take a bath. I don’t think Perfect-a Ree-becca likes me anymore.”

“Miz Cunningham likes you, Baloo. She’s just...”

“Crabby,” Baloo supplied curtly.

“Stressed.” Kit gazed at Higher for Hire with a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if it has something to do with us delivering less cargo lately.”

“Whatever,” Baloo grumbled. “I thought friends were s’posed ta pick ya up, not pick ya apart. She may think this ol’ bear’s thick-skinned, but I ain’t. All them insults hurt, kid. They hurt deep.” With a heavy sigh, he rolled over in his hammock.

“Okay, okay, sorry I asked,“ the brown bear cub apologized softly, blown away by his Papa Bear’s soliloquy. He returned to his comic book and shortly heard Baloo snoring. Kit got up and walked into Higher for Hire where his boss, Rebecca Cunningham, was shuffling papers on her desk. Kit noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes and that she looked tired. She had looked tired a lot lately.

“Ah, Kit,” the petite brown bearess addressed the boy with a warm smile; “here’s your paycheck.”

“Thanks, Miz Cunningham.” Tentatively, he ventured, “Um...are you coming to my school play next Tuesday? I have the second biggest part, and I’ve worked really hard on memorizing all of my lines. I’d really like it if you and Molly could come.”

“Isthat bear going?” She glared in the general direction of the Sea Duck.

“I suppose so,” Kit said quietly, fiddling with his paycheck.

Under her breath, Rebecca morosely muttered, “I couldn’t stand to be the same room as that despicable slob!” To the boy, she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m sorry, Kit. I would like to go, but I have an appointment that evening.” She busied herself in the filing cabinet.

Disheartened, Kit wandered outside to find someone who was rarely in a bad mood - Wildcat. The mechanic was fiddling with a gizmo inside his houseboat. Kit took a place beside the lion on a crate. “Hey, Wildcat.”

“Hey, Kit.”

Kit sat there with his hands propped in his chin, his elbows on his knees. He stared glumly at the floor. “Baloo and Miz Cunningham have been yelling at each other all week, and it’s just getting worse. What am I going to do?”

“Buy earplugs?” Wildcat suggested, tightening a bolt on the unknown, odd-looking object with his trusty wrench.

“There’s gotta be some way to get them to be friends again,” Kit mumbled. He got up and started for downtown and the Cape Suzette National Bank. He was deep in thought about his dilemma when he stepped into the bank lobby. As he did so, a deafening, ringing siren went off. Kit stopped in his tracks as bankers and tellers surrounded him. “I didn’t steal anything.” He held up his hands and his paycheck. “I was gonna deposit this. Honestly.”

A portly grey koala in a three piece suit patted the boy on the back. Grinning, he stated, “Congratulations, my boy, you’ve won!”

“Won what?”

“The door prize. You’re the hundredth customer today.”

“What did I win? Free money?” His eyes lit up at the white envelope that the banker had placed in his paws. It could be a check for stupid amounts of money. Maybe he could buy his own plane!

Aside to a female teller, the banker whispered with an amused chuckle, “They always think it’s money.” To Kit, he said jovially, “No, young man, it’s tickets.”

“Oh, boy, that’s swell,” Kit murmured, his dreams of a new plane crashing around him. Then he glanced at the tickets. They were for two free dinners at the newest posh restaurant in town - the Zen Zeppelin. His face broke out in a broad smile. This could be exactly the thing he needed to get Baloo and Miz Cunningham to be friends again. “Gee, thanks! Um, mister?”

“Yes, son?”

“Can I give these tickets to anyone? I mean, I have a couple of friends who would love to eat dinner on the Zen Zeppelin.”

“Yes, they’re transferrable and good for an entire year.”

After depositing his check minus five dollars for comic books and sweets into his savings account, Kit strolled home, whistling. He stopped off at Wildcat’s houseboat. The mechanic was still fiddling with the same piece of machinery. Now, he was banging it against the floor.

“Wildcat, I know what to do.”

“About how to make this doohickey behave?” Wildcat said hopefully.

“No...about how to get Baloo and Miz Cunningham to stop fighting.”

“Bessie won’t cooperate today. Maybe she needs a rest.” The young lion gave up on the airplane part and tossed it over his shoulder into a corner along with other mismatched pieces of this and that. “You’re going to make them eat avocado dip until they get real sick? Then they’ll stop fighting for sure. No, wait. They’ll fight over the bathroom. Oh, I know! Put duct tape over their mouths. Then they’ll sound like - mmm...mmm!”

Kit showed his prize to the mechanic. “I won these tickets at the bank. See, it’s to the Zen Zeppelin.”

“Wow-how-how-how!” Wildcat laughed, impressed. “The big silver balloon that flies allll over the city?”

“Yep, that’s the one. It says here that it boards at seven and lands at nine. That’ll give them two whole hours together. They’ll haveto make up.”

Later that afternoon, Kit put his plan into action.

“So, you see, Papa Bear; I got two free tickets to eat on the Zen Zeppelin. I want you to come with me tonight.”

In his excitement, Baloo fell out of his hammock. Thunk! he landed on the dock. “Free food while ya fly? Sounds like my kind of party. Count me in, kid.”

Kit gave the pilot one ticket. “Here’s your ticket. I’ll meet you there just before seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

“When food’s involved ol’ Baloo’s never late!”

One down. One to go, Kit thought to himself as he strolled into the office.

Rocking on his feet anxiously, Kit explained, “So, you see, Miz Cunningham, I won these two free tickets to eat on the Zen Zeppelin for being the one hundredth customer at the bank, and I would was wondering if you would accompany me tonight. Please?” He flashed her a charming smile.

“Why didn’t you ask Baloo? He would jump at the chance for a free meal.”

Kit thought up a quick story. “It’s a fancy place. He...he wouldn’t know what fork to use with each course.”

Rebecca laughed

1 2 3 4 5 6

Next page