Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Fright
Part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

December 25, 1938
Early, Early Morning

Moonlight spilled onto the tropical city of Cape Suzette, now peaceful in its slumber. The dark, moonlit-speckled water in the harbor gently splashed against a yellow and orange Conwing L-16 seaplane tied to the dock. The same waves rocked a houseboat moored to the seawall close to a small wooden building. The crow’s nest of that wooden building reached towards the sky, ending in a fluttering windsock. Suspended above the front door of that building was a white life preserver with the words ‘Higher for Hire’ stenciled in red. The door itself was adorned with a wreath and a pair of jingle bells tied to the doorknob with a crimson ribbon.

Through that door, the room that doubled as an office and a living room was decorated for the holidays. An ornamented pine tree occupied one corner, under which was piled several brightly-colored packages. Strings of silver and gold tinsel were tastefully draped along the railings, tacked around the windows and doorways, and dangled from the desk situated at the rear of the room. Five red stockings with the names Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, Molly, and Wildcat hung from the front of the desk, each bulging with goodies. Upstairs, all of the inhabitants - a family of four bears - were dreaming sweet dreams. All, that is, except one.

Baloo von Bruinwald, a large grey bear, was stretched out on the king-sized bed, hands folded behind his head. He was listening to the quiet, even breathing of the bearess curled up next to him. Peeking over his wife’s head, he glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand - 5:15 AM. He was becoming more impatient with each second that the clock ticked away.

His wife Rebecca, a petite brown bearess, sighed in her sleep and rolled over onto her back. With his eyes, Baloo traced her pretty, peaceful face, which was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. He smiled. Ever so gently, he placed a paw on her stomach. Though it was barely evident in her slender frame, she was expecting a baby. Their first baby, their third child.

A torturously slow fifteen minutes passed during which the pilot anticipated the coming day’s events. What could be better than opening gifts, stuffing himself silly, and then taking a luxurious afternoon nap in his favorite easy chair? Unless it was opening gifts, stuffing himself silly, and napping with those he loved.

Finally, Baloo could not wait any longer. He felt ready to jump out of his skin with excitement. Christmas had always been a special time, but this Christmas was extra special. It was their first as a real family.

“Becky! Becky, honey!” he hissed, shaking her shoulder gently.

“What?” she murmured groggily, tersely.

“It’s Christmas, Beckers.”

“What time is it?” She removed her sleep mask from one eye and blinked a few times to clear her vision. Seeing the time - 5:30 AM - she burrowed under the blankets.

“Becky!” Baloo whispered more insistently, removing the earmuffs from her ears.

“It’s 5:30, Baloo. Go to sleep!” Rebecca slapped the earmuffs back into place.

“Doncha wanna see what Santa left ya?”

“Later. Much later.”

“Aw, c’mon, Becky,” Baloo whined.

“The one day I can sleep in, you want to get up early, but when there’s an urgent delivery, you’ll sleep ‘til noon! I’m a mother with three children,” Rebecca mumbled grumpily.

“Almost four,” Baloo whispered, kissing her cheek.

“Four,” she echoed drowsily. Suddenly, she was wide awake with a pressing urge to use the bathroom. She pulled on her blue robe, yawning.

Baloo sprang out of bed and ran down one flight of stairs to the second story. His first stop was his son’s room. Thirteen-year-old Kit was curled up in a ball on his bed. All of the bedclothes except for the red comforter hung off the end of the bed. The big bear grinned at the sleeping brown bear cub, one of two pride and joys in his life. Baloo gently scratched behind Kit’s ears and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Li’l Britches.”

Kit yawned, rolled over, blinked a few times, and grasped his father’s large paw in both of his smaller ones with a sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas, Papa Bear.” Noticing that it was still pitch black outside, he inquired, “What time is it? Midnight?”

“Nope, kiddo. It’s thirty minutes to six.”

Kit chuckled. “A.k.a. five-thirty.” He knew only something special like Christmas could get Baloo out of bed voluntarily before the sun was high in the sky.

Next, Baloo headed to Molly’s room. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched his seven-year-old daughter, a small yellow bear cub, sleep. The way she scrunched up her eyes was so charming. After a few moments, Baloo gently tapped her shoulder. “Molly. C’mon, Button-nose, it’s Christmas!”

Molly’s eyes flew open as if her father had said the magic word. Her face glowed with a sunshiny smile. “Christmas? You hear that, Lucy?” she addressed her beloved doll. “Daddy says it’s Christmas. Did Santa come?” She held out her arms.

Baloo picked both her and Lucy up. “Dunno. Ya hafta go scout it out.” He rubbed noses with her and put her restless little feet on the floor.

With Lucy in her arms, Molly peeked through the bars of the railing at the tree. “Presents! Presents! Santa was here!” she shouted, skipping down the stairs in her pink padded feet.

Rebecca leaned over the upstairs railing. “Don’t open any presents until everyone gets downstairs, Pumpkin.”

Molly skidded to a stop on the stairs. Her face - and hopes - fell. “No presents?”

“You can look in your stocking,” Rebecca suggested.

“Stockings! Come on, Kit!” The little girl sped back upstairs and grabbed her brother’s paw. Together, they raced down the stairs, over to the desk, snatched up their stockings, and plopped down on the sofa.

“Ooo! Lookee what I got, Kit! Lookee!” Molly dangled a blue yo-yo before him. “You’re not looking!”

“Nice, sis,” Kit answered absently. He was engrossed in examining his new Swizz army knife.

“And candy! Lots of candy!” Molly dumped her stocking contents in her lap - colorful foil-wrapped chocolates, miniature candy canes, a small sack of gum drops, and a chocolate-coated marshmallow Santa. She popped a chocolate in her mouth and stealthily reached for one of her brother’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kit perceived her hand closing around one of his pieces of candy. “Drop the candy, Danger Woman, or you’ll have to face Blade Boy’s slicing saw of doom.” He swung his pocket knife - all blades safely tucked inside - in her direction.

With a saucy smile, Molly swiftly unwrapped the chocolate and shoved it in her mouth. “Danger Woman knows Blade Boy’s one weakness. Tickling!” Her little fingers flashing, she mercilessly tickled his stomach, under his arms, and under his chin.

“Mollee-hee-hee!” He guffawed uncontrollably, tears coursing down his cheeks. “Stop! Molly! Stop it! This...is...not...fair! Mol-ly!”

Innocently, she said, “Who’s Molly? There’s no Molly here.”

Kit was relieved when his tormentor was lifted by a strong pair of arms. “There ain’t?” Baloo said. “Guess Santa made a mistake deliverin’ all them packages tagged ‘Molly’. We’ll hafta drop ‘em off at the North Pole. C’mon, Kit, let’s load ‘em in the Sea Duck.”

“Daddy, you’re silly! I’m Molly.”

Baloo feigned surprise. “You are? Well, knock me over with a feather!”

She giggled and squirmed out of his grasp. “What did Santa leave in your stocking?”

“Prob’bly a big ol’ lump of coal.” Baloo unceremoniously emptied his stocking on the desk. He surveyed his pile of candy with satisfaction. “Pretty good haul. Candy, an’ what’s this?” He unfolded a tiny scroll of paper. It read: Good for one free Krakatoa Special at Louie’s. Baloo grinned from ear to ear. “Santa knows what this bear likes.”

Baloo pecked Rebecca on the cheek as she passed him on the way to the kitchen. “Thanks, Santa,” he whispered.

He was rewarded with a lovely, loving smile and a return kiss from his wife. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Look in your stocking, Mommy! Look!” Molly tugged on the sleeve of Rebecca’s robe.

Rebecca smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm and patted her on the head. “I will, honey, after I get the turkey in the oven so it’ll be ready for dinner. After breakfast, we’ll open presents.”

“Presents!” Molly shouted gleefully as they all trooped into the kitchen.

Five Miles Southeast of Cape Suzette

The self-proclaimed feared pirate Don Karnage and his dumber-than-advertised pirate crew were flying full-tilt towards Cape Suzette. The Iron Vulture, their huge mother-ship, was painted like a candy cane - red and white striped from stem to stern. On the flight/landing deck, there was a miniature Santa’s village, complete with pirates dressed as elves. The larger-than-normal ‘elves’ were scurrying about, putting up last minute touches. They were hanging lights and tinsel to the beat of Christmas carols.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, plunder all the way. Oh, what fun it is to steal on a Christmas holiday!” Their cacophonic voices rose over the propellers’ whirring.

An irate voice cut through the holiday cheer. “No, no, no! How many times to I have to tell you imbecilic snowflakes?”

A debonair Santa Claus, otherwise known as Don Karnage, stormed through the village and over to Hacksaw. The muscular orangish canine was clad as a leprechaun; he stuck out like a sore thumb amidst a village of elves. Karnage knocked the green derby hat off of Hacksaw’s flinching head and stomped on it repeatedly.

“You are Santa’s happy helping elves.” He slapped Hacksaw across the face with the squashed hat, making his nose redder than Rudolph's. “Not