“Anyway, all that’s left at the apartment is the piano and a few more boxes.” With the agileness of a cat, Rebecca scrambled up into the truck bed, snaked her way through piles of boxes, and shoved against one end of a full-sized sofa.

“Thepiano?” Baloo puffed under the weight of the sofa as it was pushed out of the truck. Setting it on the ground and flopping wearily onto it, he exclaimed vehemently, “No way, no how are we movin’ that, Becky!”

Rebecca lightly hopped down from the truck and went over to one end of the sofa. “Up, Baloo.”

With a tired sigh, the big bear got to his feet and picked up the other end of the sofa.

Carrying the sage green sofa backwards towards the office door, Rebecca said, “What about Molly’s piano lessons? What is she going to practice on?”

“Why does she hafta play the right notes when there’s so many wrong ones ta play?”

As they navigated the sofa through the narrow doorway, she instructed, “Turn it to the right. Your other right, silly!”

“Make up yer mind, Becky, and make sure ya keep yer end up.”

“Excuse me for not being as strong as you.” She sagged under the weight. “This thing is heavy!”

“Tell me about it!” Baloo said, his aching muscles strained to the limit as he tried to push the sofa through the door without dropping it on his foot. “I’m holdin’ most of it over here.”

“Here, Miz Cunningham. I’ll help you.” Kit, a thirteen-year-old brown bear cub in an olive green sweater and blue baseball cap, hurried to grab onto the sofa’s end that Rebecca was holding. They tugged while Baloo pushed.

“C’mon, you stupid thing!” Baloo growled under his breath, throwing all of his weight against the sofa. It squeezed through the door with a ‘pop’, and he fell, sprawling face first across it, while Rebecca and Kit landed on their backsides with a ‘thump’. “I’m gonna take about forty winks right here. Call me when you’re done.”

“Move now. Sleep later.” Rebecca tugged on his arm. “Now, move it, flyboy!”

“Aw...” Baloo groaned, reluctantly rolling off of the soft sofa. “Answer me this, Beckers. Where are we gonna fit a grand piano? Higher for Hire’s already burstin’ at the seams.” He gazed around the small office, which was going to double as a living room. At the moment it was crowded with furniture and boxes. There were even boxes piled up to his eye level. Any way he turned, something was in his way. He could barely take a step without stubbing his toe. He knew what a rat trapped in a maze felt like. “Hm, maybe if we move yer desk outside...”

Rebecca whirled around, a stack of blankets and towels in hand. “Your ratty old armchair will go before my desk, buster!”

“Nuh-huh.” Baloo fondly patted the patched maroon chair, causing a puff of dust to rise. “This chair’s a family heirloom.”

“More like a hairball,” she retorted.

“Yeah, yeah, Becky.” Baloo trudged towards the door to get another load, rubbing his sore back. “I think ya packed everythin’ except the kitchen sink.”

“Well...actually...” Suppressing a giggle, Rebecca cast a surreptitious glance at a large box sitting in the corner by the grandfather clock.

“You didn’t!” Baloo pushed a path through the sea of boxes, lifted the corner box’s lid, and pulled out a stuffed tan bear wearing a blue gingham dress and matching blue bonnet. “Funniest sink I ever saw.”

Between throaty chuckles, she choked out, “You really thought I’d packed the kitchen sink? I got you good, Baloo!”

Baloo’s look of hurt confusion evolved into a broad smile. He loved to hear her laugh, something that she had done more of since their engagement. Stepping over a couple of boxes, he gathered his fiancée in his arms. “Nuh-huh, I got you, Becky” he said softly. He planted a tender kiss on her lips and rubbed noses with her.

Molly, who had been diligently searching through all of the boxes, said in relief, “There you are, Millie.” The little yellow bearess clad in a pink shirt and blue overalls snatched up her doll from the floor where Baloo had dropped it. “Me and Wildcat and Lucy have been looking all over for you. The tea party’s about to start.” She ran upstairs to her new room, shouting, “Wildcat, we found Millie! Do you have the table set yet?”

Higher for Hire’s ace mechanic’s voice floated downstairs. “All ready and set to go, Mollycat, and I found some cookies in my overalls. They’re okay if you pick out the metal filings.”

“Metal filings!” Baloo exclaimed, scratching his head. “I remember when cookies came with chocolate chips.”

“They’ll chip a tooth on those,” Kit said concernedly.

Rebecca said sharply, “Absolutely no cookies, Molly!”

“Aw, Mom!” the little girl whined. “We can’t play tea party without cookies.”

Hands on hips, Rebecca said, “You’ll just have to pretend this time.”

Molly stomped up the stairs, pouting.

“How many more loads, Miz...” Kit caught Rebecca’s reproving look and quickly corrected, “Rebecca?” He was having a difficult time calling his future mother anything but ‘Miz Cunningham’. He mentally kicked himself in the pants every time that familiar, formal title escaped from his lips. Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca,he thought silently.

Rebecca wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, giving him an affectionate squeeze and a loving smile. “This is almost the last load, sweetie. We only have a few more boxes and the,” she cast a roguish glance at her fiancé, “piano to go.”

Following Rebecca and Kit outside, Baloo groaned, “Piano!”

Baffle Island

Floating in the placid Pacific Ocean many, many miles west of Cape Suzette was a speck. On closer inspection, one could see that this speck happened to be a small, almost perfectly round island. It was covered with sand and palm trees.

And it was crawling with air pirates.

The thick grove of palm trees hid a narrow channel that led into a small cove carved into the middle of the island - almost like a donut with a bite taken out of it. This cove was perfect for concealing a ship from prying eyes while it was being loaded with confiscated cargo.

Karnage ordered, “Load those crates up faster, men!”

Owen, Shere Khan’s right-hand man, made a notation of each box and its contents on his clipboard as it was pushed or carried up the gangplank onto the ship. The skinny tiger wearing a navy vest over a light blue shirt and fuchsia bow tie timidly asked, “Is that it?”

“Do your eyes see any more boxes?”

“No, b...but that’s ten crates less than last week.”

“The accident business has been slow,” Karnage said airily. “Do you want us to cause more accidents on purpose?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Owen said as he totted up the number of crates and their respective values. “Mr. Khan only wants whatever cargo you collect from your accidents. That was the deal.”

Karnage held out his palm. “I kept my part of the deal. Now it is the part where you keep your part.”

Owen placed a stack of bills in the pirate captain’s hands. “Five thousand dollars, as promised.”

“Last time I got seven thousand!” Karnage growled menacingly, reaching to pull his sword from its scabbard.

“Ten less boxes,” Owen explained simply, quailing under the pirate’s murderous glare.

Remembering that he was supposed to be nice, Karnage swallowed his pride, forced a fake, toothy smile to his face, and said semi-calmly, “Where are my mannerisms? The customer is always right, even when they’re wrong.”

Owen boarded the ship swiftly. Despite the numerous encounters that he had had with the air pirates, he still wasn’t comfortable around them. Their deadly weapons, not to mention the dangerous glints in their eyes, made him extremely nervous.

“Estupido fool!” Karnage muttered through clenched teeth; his lips were still curved in the phony smile. He gave a brief, impatient wave at Owen standing on deck. “Of course there are less boxes, because we’re keeping them.”

First mate Gibber, a squat sepia canine, whispered into Karnage’s ear, causing the pirate captain to laugh. “You’re right. Finders, keepers, and since we found it, we get to keep it if we want to keep it. What Shere Khan doesn’t get, he doesn’t need to know.”

After the ship was out of sight, Karnage and Gibber pushed through the thick shrubbery towards the western edge of the island. They parted a prickly bush to reveal large, double doors in the side of a sandy hillock.

Gibber tapped ‘Shave and a Haircut’ on the door. They waited for it to open.

Thirty seconds went by.

A minute.

Incensed, Karnage roared, “Open this door now, you eediot! It is your coming commander!”

Hacksaw, a brawny orange canine with a pea-sized brain, opened the door with a sheepish smile. In a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he apologized, “Sorry, Captain. I didn’t know it was you.”

“It is always me, except when it isn’t! Get out of my way!” Karnage roughly shoved Hacksaw back against the jagged wall while he clomped past him, causing Hacksaw to yelp in pain.

A few feet into the cave, there was a sharp drop off. Karnage and Gibber climbed onto a ladder that led down into a deeper cavern, their path lit by lanterns placed in crags in the wall.

As they descended, the temperature dropped while the noise level increased. At the bottom of the ladder, they hopped off. Before them was a large, subterranean cavern with a sandy floor that slanted upwards towards the opposite end and reddish-hued walls. Drops of moisture dripped from the ceiling. The cavern was bustling with activity.

Basically, it was an airplane body shop. One hundred twenty-eight planes of all makes and models were in different states of disrepair. Flashes of soldering torches, sounds of electric ratchets, loud hammering, and the pirates’ shouts filled the air. At the far end of

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