it on slightly sideways. He tugged at it until he could see out of the small eye-hole slits. His voice was muffled, hollow as he said, “That boy of Bahloo’s is slickier than a slime-smeared sardine.”

“Vell, den who are you going after?” Dumptruck inquired as Karnage climbed into the air pirate’s small submarine.

“Someone unsuspecting. Someone helpless. Someone like...”

Higher for Hire

Rebecca rose from her chair when she saw a well-dressed sheep carrying a briefcase enter the office. “Good afternoon,” she greeted brightly. She rushed to escort the sheep in. She wasn’t about to let him change his mind about using her cargo service. “Welcome to Higher for Hire, sir. Please sit down.” She gestured to a crate in front of her desk. Taking her own seat opposite the sheep, she had her pen poised to jot down his request. “I’m the owner of Higher for Hire, Rebecca Cunningham. Maybe you would like to know that for Higher for Hire’s one year anniversary, we are having a special: the first delivery for new customers is half price. Now, how may I help you?”

Don Karnage, sweating profusely inside the itchy costume, was growing increasingly irate. He would like nothing more than to bump Rebecca and her annoyingly cheerful smile off here and now rather than going through all of the hassle of kidnaping her. But if he didn’t kidnap her, Baloo would not fall into his wonderful trap, and then how would he get his revenge? Instead, Karnage answered with feigned politeness, “You can help me by being the bait.”

“I beg your pardon?” Bewilderment was on Rebecca’s face as she stared at the sheep. Something wasn’t quite right about this man, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Something about the way he moved his mouth was a little off, and he sounded like he talking from the bottom of a well. She dismissed it from her mind. Perhaps he had a cold. After all, a client was a client, something that Higher for Hire could never get enough of. Cautiously, she inquired, “Did you say bait? As in fishing bait? Worms perhaps...?”

Karnage cleared his throat. He forced himself to smile, a rather odd smile. “Uh...yes! Bait. Worms. Exactitutely. You hit the nail on the tippy-top of the head. I have these worms...like the ones in my briefcase.” He plunked the briefcase on the desk. “Would you care to see? Si?”

Rebecca cringed imperceptibly. She detested anything creepy or crawly, but she couldn’t afford to offend a potential client. “Well...I don’t really think it’s necessary...”

“Oh, but it is absotutely necessary.” Ignoring her protests, he clicked open the briefcase. A cloud of noxious sleeping gas hit Rebecca full in the face. With a groan, she passed out on the floor.

“Hee-hee!” the pirate laughed triumphantly. “Nighty-night. Sleep tight. You’ll be dead before the dawn’s first light.” He slid a burlap sack over Rebecca’s limp form. He then speared a ransom note to her desk using a very sharp, very deadly knife with a skull-and-crossbones symbol on the handle.

Panting inside his stuffy costume, Karnage carried his sack like Santa Claus carrying his sack of toys. A copper-colored submarine waited at the end of the dock. He shoved the brown bag into the submarine before sliding in after it.

Higher for Hire
One Hour Later

“Man, I wish I never had to go to Thembria again,” Baloo complained, stepping from the Sea Duck. “Crazy country with crazy laws an’ even crazier colonels.”

“We’ve been in Thembrian jails so many times, they should permanently reserve us a place,” Kit joked weakly.

“Don’t give ‘em any ideas, Kit.” Baloo burst into the empty office, blurting out, “I know we’re late, Becky, but I can explain everythin’. It honestly wasn’t my fault this time. Ya gotta believe me! Them Thembrian kooks...” Discovering that no one was listening, he trailed off. “Becky? Beckers?” Frantically, he peeked behind the door, checked in the warehouse, and then hollered upstairs, “Where are ya, Rebecca?”

Kit wasn’t quite as upset. “Maybe she had an errand to do in town, Papa Bear. I bet Wildcat knows where she went.” However, when Kit spied the deadly knife protruding from the desk, his stomach plummeted to his ankles. He recognized the skull-and-crossbones emblem on the handle. It could only mean one thing - air pirates. It was creepy that this was happening all over again, just like last year. Next to the note there was a picture of Baloo with the big ‘X’ slashed across the big bear’s face. It filled Kit with trepidation. “Baloo! Look!”

Rushing down the stairs, Baloo snatched the note from under the knife. “Man, talk about yer déjà vu!” Aloud, he read:

Dear Baloo-type person,

I have in my possession someone very special to you and very annoying to me by the name of Rebecca. If you want her, come and get her.

Sincerely,
That panic provoking pirate,
the one-and-only me,
the fantabulous,
Don Karnage

P.S. Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah!

Baloo reread the note again, a dark scowl creeping across his face, before crumpling it and pitching it in the trash. “Dang that Karnage! This is the absolute last time he kidnaps my Becky!” Stomping towards the Sea Duck resolutely, he said, “C’mon, L’il Britches, we’re gonna teach that pirate a lesson that he an’ his big ego will never forget.”

Cape Suzette Cliffs

Three-fourths of the way up the rocky crag, cliff guards Sam and Ralph, a stocky beige sheepdog and a skinny brown coyote respectively, sat at opposite ends of a checkerboard. Nearby was one of the large cannons used to defend the city, affectionately known as Big Bertha. Before them, as far as the eye could see, stretched a panorama of a peaceful blue sky streaked with wispy cirrus clouds hanging over calm blue ocean; it was difficult to tell where water ended and where sky began. The sort of sleepy, lazy day perfect for indulging in a game of checkers.

“Your move, Sam.”

Sam jumped two of the red pieces while Ralph looked on, befuddled. “Your turn, Ralph.”

As Ralph pondered his next move, Sam watched the planes coming and going through the cliff opening. Below them streaked a yellow blur of a seaplane.

“There goes Baloo again.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Ralph mumbled, tongue protruding from his mouth, his full concentration on the checkerboard.

“Wonder why he’s in such a hurry. Must be a rush delivery.”

Ralph peeked over at Sam. The canine’s attention was focused on the seaplane fading into the horizon. With a sly glint in his beady eyes, Ralph surreptitiously switched one of Sam’s red pieces with his own black piece. However, his smile fell from his face when Sam captured the remainder of his men.

“Play it again, Sam?” Ralph said, crestfallen, but determined to win at least one game. “Best five out of six?”

Sam shrugged. What else had he to do? (Work? What’s that?) “Sure.” He quickly set up the board. “You go first, Ralph.”

From out of nowhere, a thick bank of fog rolled over them unexpectedly. “I would if I could see the board,” came Ralph’s disembodied voice.

“I thought Broadcast Sally predicted clear skies today,” Sam commented.

“Can’t trust those radio people,” Ralph replied, sneakily removing a few of Sam’s checkers.

A large, hazy silhouette appeared over the side of the cliff.

“What the...?” gasped Ralph in disbelief.

When the sea monster chomped Big Bertha in her gigantic jaws, ripped it entirely from the cliff, and spit it into the ocean, the cliff guards shrieked in terror, “Aah!” cowering behind the checkerboard.

Back to the Sea Duck

With throttles wide open the Sea Ducksped towards Pirate Island as fast as its Superflight 100 engines would go. From out of nowhere a thick fog suddenly enshrouded them in its unseeing gloom. Kit rolled down his window and stuck his head out, scanning the horizon with his keen eyes. As navigator, it was his job to warn Baloo of any obstacles in their path.

“Aw, great. Fog. What else can go wrong?”

Baloo should know better than to say that. Have you ever noticed that that phrase always gets him into trouble? In keeping with that, here came a fleet of tri-wing CT-37s.

“Pirates!” Kit proclaimed, hearing the airplanes before seeing them. Being a former pirate himself, he knew the hum of those CT-37 engines well.

“I’ll try ta lose ‘em.” Baloo yanked back on the control yoke, but to no avail. Nothing happened. The seaplane continued on its forward journey. “Huh?” He turned the steering wheel right, left. Nothing. Back, forward. Nothing. He stomped down on the foot pedals. Nothing. No matter what Baloo did, the plane would not change course. “This is the first time the Duck’s ever had a mind of her own.”

“What does that mean?” Kit asked.

“I can’t control ‘er, L’il Britches!” Baloo frantically flipped switches in desperation, sweat beading on his brow.

“Look, Baloo. The Iron Vulture!” Kit announced. Through the mist, the pirates’ hulking mother-ship was coming right at them. The Sea Duckwas making a beeline for it as if it was attracted to it by magnets. “We’ve gotta bail out before Karnage captures us.” Kit eyed the CT-37 directly beneath them acting as an escort. “We can escape in one of those CT-37s.”

Baloo hesitated. His plane was extremely important to him. “But my baby...”

“We’ll get it back,” Kit reasoned, “but if Karnage catches us who will save Miz Cunningham?”

“Okay, Partner.” Baloo flung open the port cockpit door. Wind whistling past his ears, he gauged the distance to the pirate aircraft. It wasn’t far, a few hundred yards, but if they were a little off they might as well say bye-bye to breathing. “Pull chocks?”

“Pull chocks,” Kit said with a determined thumbs-up.

Together, they leapt into the