Piranha. A pink bow perched atop her shock of orange hair. Pink bracelets jangled on her wrists as she reached into the plane’s innards for a camera. After jauntily proclaiming, “The party can officially begin. I am here!” she made a beeline for her cringing nephew. She dragged him out from under the table. “Louis, what are you doing under there? You’ll wrinkle your suit, and what an adorable suit it is.”

“Louie,” the ape gasped breathlessly as his aunt crushed him in her vice-like grip. “Louie!”

She pinched his cheek and hugged him again, squeezing the stuffing out of him.

“Wha...” he wheezed, “what are you doing here, Aunt Louise?”

“Aw, ain’t he sweet? I knew that you couldn’t wait to see your favorite auntie again, Louis, just like I couldn’t wait to see you. That’s why I jumped at the chance when Rebecca called me this mornin’. I couldn’t let an old D.O.A. friend down.”

“The chance to do what?”

“I’m taking pictures for the wedding.”

“You’rethe photographer?”

“Sure, silly boy.” She retied his necktie very tightly, causing his eyes to bulge out.

“Gah!” Louie choked. The blue-faced orangutan loosened the tie that was cutting off his oxygen supply. When his coloring returned to normal, he rasped, “I didn’t know you were a photographer.”

“It’s my newest hobby.” Aunt Louise looked over her new camera as if she was trying to figure out how it worked; it still had the price tag on it. “Just took it up today. Lucky for Rebecca, I was available to fill in.”

“More like bad luck, right, Baloo?” Louie murmured sardonically. But the big bear didn’t answer. He was staring at his soon-to-be bride as if she would disappear if he took his eyes off of her for two seconds. Waving his hand in front of his friend’s face, he said, “Yoo-hoo! Baloo? Hey, cousin?” He murmured, “Man, he is solid gone over her,” to Kit, prompting a sympathetic grin and a nod from the boy.

From the gazebo, Aunt Louise, who was waving her camera wildly above her head, said loudly, “Everyone over here for pictures!”

Meanwhile
Downtown Cape Suzette

“It’s a capacity crowd here at Cape Suzette’s third annual Civic Service Awards,” Dog Rather, a reporter for K-CAPE radio, said into his microphone. The short brown canine looked around at the bustling surroundings as he continued in his deep, easily recognizable voice. “All are here to pay tribute to this year’s greatest heroes - Mrs. Sara Coopersmith-Fitzwarren-Goldenheimer-Stein, a strong pillar of our volunteer community, and the surprising man-of-the-hour, the former air pirate Don Karnage.”

It was true that curiosity and skepticism had induced most of Cape Suzette to turn out to see Don Karnage receive the Hero of the Year award. In front of the downtown stage, over which was draped a banner reading ‘3rd Annual Cape Suzette Civic Service Awards’, a large crowd had gathered. The rows of folding chairs were swiftly filling with people of all species and ages, and there were others milling around on the fringes of the seating area. Many police officers patrolled the blocked-off area, and, overseeing all of the police, was Detective Thursday. His keen eyes scanned the crowd as he stood in front of the stage.

There was also a row of folding chairs on stage. Mayor Tuskany, sitting next to Shere Khan, was reviewing his note cards. Owen sat on the other side of Khan, prepared to do anything his employer asked. At the other end of the stage, photographers were taking pictures of an elderly lioness, her face lined with smile-wrinkles, wearing an ancient-looking black silk dress. Her grey braided hair was wound around her head like a coronet.

A hush of anticipation fell over the assemblage when a shiny black limousine pulled up just outside the barricade. Don Karnage got out, followed by Gibber. Eager onlookers pressed in closer for a better look at the new heros. Excited and astonished whispers rippled through the crowd as the nefarious captain of the air pirates and his first mate walked towards the stage. The photographers and reporters flocked around them.

Karnage and his big ego soaked up the attention like a thirsty sponge. “No pushing and no shoving. There is plenty of the heroic, really handsome Don Karnage to go around.” Once on stage, he announced, “I am ready for my close-up shot.” Akin to a fashion model, he struck one dramatic pose after another. “Remember to get my good side - every side.” He stood there, grinning like a Chestershire cat, long after the photojournalists trickled away.

When all of the reporters had gone, Gibber whispered into his ear.

Don Karnage sighed. “Oh, very well. Fine. I will sit down with the other mere mortals, the peoples who are not heroes of the year.” He took his seat next to the elderly lioness, running a greedy, calculating eye over the audience.

Back to the Wedding

Picture taking time was over. The wedding party and guests, who were seeing spots dance before their eyes, were lounging on the bench that spanned the perimeter of the gazebo. They were waiting for the pastor to get ready.

The giraffe took off his chef’s hat. He turned his green, reversible jacket inside out to the black side and put it back on, causing Caterer Geoffrey to become Pastor Geoffrey. He extracted a pile of official-looking papers and a pen from his pocket. Clearing his throat, Pastor Geoffrey said, “Before we start the ceremony, there is a little paperwork to fill out.”

“Oh, man, don’t tell me we gotta take a test,” Baloo groaned. Tightening his arm around Rebecca’s bare shoulders, he whispered accusingly, “You didn’t say there’d be a test, Becky.”

Highly amused, a small smile tugged at the minister’s lips. “No, it’s not a test. Just a legal formality. Groom’s full name?”

Wildcat’s hand shot up in the air. “Hey, I know that one! Uh, what was the question again?”

“Baloo Augustus von Bruinwald,” the big bear said with a sheepish grin. He wasn’t accustomed to using his full name. Everyone in the aviation community knew him simply as Baloo.

“Augustus?” Kit, who was sitting beside his Papa Bear, snickered.

Baloo looked hurt and very irked. “Hey, kid, Augustus has been passed down from generations of von Bruinwalds.”

“Mores the pity,” Louie remarked none-too-quietly.

Shooting Louie a scowl, Baloo said, “It’s no laughin’ matter.”

The boy continued to snigger uncontrollably.

“An’ we can tack it onto your name when we adopt ya, Kit-boy,” Baloo said sweetly. He tried it out. “Kit Augustus Cloudkicker von Bruinwald. Kinda has a nice ring to it, doncha think?”

The boy grimaced. He didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Uh...sorry, Papa Bear.”

“Bride’s full name?”

“Rebecca Elizabeth Cunningham,” the bearess said, carefully enunciating every syllable. “Rebecca with two ‘c’s, not a ‘k’. Elizabeth with a ‘z’, not an ‘s’. C-U-N-N-I-N-G-H-A-M.”

“Not for long,” Baloo murmured in her ear, causing another big smile to break over Rebecca’s face.

“Good. We’ll fill the rest of this out later.” Pastor Geoffrey folded the papers up, put them in an envelope, and put the envelope in his jacket pocket. “Groom, best man, and guests up here in the gazebo with me. Bride and flower girl...”

“Maid of honor,” Molly corrected indignantly.

“Yes, maid of honor.” Geoffrey smiled down at the little girl. “Please start at the end of the sidewalk and walk towards the gazebo.” He waited until Rebecca and Molly were in place before saying, “Ready?”

“Ready, Freddie,” Aunt Louise said, holding her camera to her eye.

Pastor Geoffrey put ‘The Wedding March’ on the record player. The sweet strains of the orchestral piece wafted through the air.

“When you get up there, stand by Wildcat,” Rebecca whispered as she retied her daughter’s hair ribbon.

“Check.”

“Go ahead, Pumpkin. I’ll be right behind you,” Rebecca said, giving Molly a little nudge.

Molly marched down the sidewalk with preternatural solemness.

Rebecca tweaked her bouquet of pink and yellow roses, made sure that her train was straight behind her, then started down the makeshift aisle herself, fixing her shining eyes on her future husband. She ascended the two steps into the gazebo and took her place beside Baloo.

Pastor Geoffrey turned off the record player and opened his well-worn book. “Please join hands.”

Rebecca handed her bouquet to Molly before placing her hands in Baloo’s with a smile full of trust and love. Squeezing her fingers gently, he grinned in adoration down at her.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony.”

Downtown Cape Suzette

Across town, another ceremony was starting. Mayor Tuskany strolled up to the microphone on stage. He tapped the microphone. “Is this thing on? Testing one, two, three.” Feedback caused the crowd to wince and groan as he said, “Welcome, people of Cape Suzette, to the third annual Civic Service Awards ceremony, designed to award those worthy of awards with er...an award.” He cleared his throat and frowned at his note cards. His speech hadn’t sounded so asinine when he had practiced it at home. “Our first award goes to a woman who, for the past fifty years, has been volunteering her time at many places. If I read them all, we’d be here all day.” He chuckled wanly at his weak joke.

A few people in the audience tittered politely. Most, squirming in the uncomfortable folding chairs, silently prayed that he wouldn’t read the entire list.

“Instead, I’ll mention a few of the most

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