that jolly man and my brood of merry-melody elves. We are here to collect all the shiny doodads and valuable thingamajibs that I gave you last night.”

“Santa?” said Molly wonderingly, wrinkling up her nose in bewilderment.

Baloo frowned, sharing a look with Kit. “Looks more like a pirate ship to me. Whattaya say, Li’l Britches?”

Kit set his jaw in determination. “Let’s bring Santa down.”

Father and son threw on some clothes and sprinted to the Sea Duck with dizzying speed.

“Start cookin’ that dinner, Becky. Me an’ Kit’ll be back ta help ya lick the bowls,” Baloo yelled as they pounded down the dock towards the seaplane.

“But, Baloo!” Rebecca raced after him. Before Baloo boarded the plane, she stopped him by yanking on the back of his shirt. She warned sternly, “If you ruin my Christmas by getting yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you as long as I live!” Her brown eyes were filled with fear.

Baloo embraced her and planted a tender kiss on her lips. Softly, he joked, “I better be careful, huh? Yer wrath ain’t pretty.” Then, he climbed into the cockpit. Over the roar of the engines, he shouted, “Don’t open the door to any elves!”

Molly, standing beside her mother, cried, “Lucy and Betty say ‘good luck’!” She waved for her dolls as the Sea Duck backed up.

Baloo flipped the switch to reverse the props and the Sea Duck taxied into the harbor, gained speed, and took off. “Let’s give Karny a Christmas he’ll never forget.”

“Roger that, Papa Bear,” Kit answered with a decided nod.

Meanwhile

The Iron Vulturehovered over downtown Cape Suzette. The pirate ‘elves’ broke into stores and homes, holding people at gunpoint as they seized their possessions from them. A pile of gifts was already forming in the Iron Vulture’swarehouse-sized cargo hold. Sitting in his captain’s chair much like an emperor on his throne, Karnage sorted through the loot that his minions brought him.

“I must have been a very, very bad boy this year,” Karnage chortled. “One for me, one for them. Two for me, one for them. Three for me, one for them.”

“Captain, there’s a little brat down there that won’t let go of his present,” said Hal, an overweight orange feline. A big welt over his left eye was turning the most magnificent shades of purple and yellow.

“So?” Karnage asked impatiently. “Hurry it up to the point.”

Hal held up a baseball bat. On the other end of the bat, hanging on for dear life, was a five-year-old rhino in his Space Riders pajamas. “It’s mine!” the little boy wailed.

“Bring the little hoolihan to me, Elf Hal.”

The boy was placed on Karnage’s lap. “Now, Bobby...”

“That’s not my name!”

‘Santa’ snarled, revealing a mouthful of dangerously pointed teeth. “Your name will be what I say it is, yes-no? Why won’t you give Santa the pretty toy?” Without success, Karnage attempted to wrest the bat from the boy’s grasp.

“It’s MINE!” the rhino shouted, bonking Karnage squarely across the head. “And you’re not the real Santa!”

Dizzily, Karnage said, “Of course, I’m the really for real Santa-type person. Do I not have his red suit, his white beard, his classic good-looks?”

‘Santa’ was once again smashed over the head with the solid hickory bat.

“Mommy, make the jingle bells stop...oh...” Karnage slumped in his chair.

The little boy dashed away, beating pirates off left and right with his bat.

Karnage shook his head to clear the sugar plums dancing around it. “Get him!”

Mad Dog and Hal lunged for the boy, only to collide with each other as the small rhino skidded between their legs. They sprawled to the floor in a heap. Dumptruck, his arms full of crystal goblets, tripped over Mad Dog and Hal. His loot shattered all over the floor, smashed to pieces.

“I hate children! Nasty nuances!” screamed Karnage, shaking his fist with rage.

The little boy nimbly scrambled down the wooden ladder, stepping on Gibber’s foot during his escape into his apartment building.

Gibber hobbled over to Karnage and whispered in his ear.

“You want a Tootsie Roll, because a mere baby child stepped on your tootsies?” Karnage testily waved him away. “I think not. You can have some licorice instead. Have all the licorice you want. Icky stuff that turns my beautiful tongue black.”

Higher for Hire

Rebecca peeled potatoes at the kitchen sink and peered through the green, gauzy curtains. She couldn’t see much out the window. There were too many trees and buildings in the way. As she deftly cut the potato into cubes, she thought, It’s just like Karnage to turn a perfectly wonderful holiday into a disaster. Why didn’t I insist on going along with Baloo? I hate not knowing what’s happening. Too jittery to cook, she gave up on the potatoes. Instead, she ascended the stairs to the outside walkway at the top of the lighthouse section of Higher for Hire.

That’s where her daughter and mechanic were. Both were leaning against the banister with their eyes glued to the Iron Vulture. Wildcat had his hands to his eyes like a pair of binoculars.

Rebecca pushed her hair out of her face. The wind was tearing it to shreds. Wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, she asked anxiously, “Molly, honey, what’s going on? Do you see Daddy and Kit?”

Molly, clad in her Danger Woman outfit - a red blanket ‘cape’ and a colander ‘helmet’ - replied, “I saw the Sea Duckland on the Iron Vulture.”

“And what about the pirates? Have you seen any?”

Wildcat, armed with a fishing pole, said, “Nope, Ree-becca. No pirates, but lots of big elves with even bigger sacks.”

Brandishing her spatula, Molly proclaimed confidently, “Don’t worry, Mommy, Danger Woman will fight ‘em off!”

Rebecca picked up her small daughter and leaned against the railing, staring at the Iron Vulture. “I feel better already, Danger Woman,” she stated softly. She thought, Be careful, Baloo.

The Iron Vulture

The Sea Duck’s landing gear touched down on the landing strip on top of the Iron Vulture.

“Whoa!” Kit exclaimed as a huge balloon snowman smashed into the windshield, bounced over the cockpit, and was shredded to bits by the starboard propeller.

Baloo slammed on the brakes, but couldn’t avoid smashing into Santa’s workshop. Bumping over plywood and cardboard, the seaplane fishtailed. It trailed tinsel and lights behind it as it skidded to a stop.

“What is all this stuff?” Kit cried after he finally opened his eyes. He gawked at the ruined remains of Santa’s village.

“Karny’s idea of the North Pole, I guess,” Baloo said, hopping out of the plane. He untangled himself from a string of tinsel that had wrapped itself around his leg. Impatiently kicking it aside, he commented, “I haven’t seen so much red since Rebecca’s mid-air refueling station blew up. “

Bear and cub cast wary glances around the flight deck. Barring the cheesy decorations, it was empty. Not a single pirate was in sight.

“Wonder where the welcome wagon is?” Baloo said.

“I bet they’re all out stealing.”

“Let’s not stick around an’ find out.”

They slipped down through a trap door and hoisted themselves into the ventilation system.

“The only way to travel, huh, kid?” Baloo joked as they crawled through the vents.

“It is if you want to be sneaky,” Kit said quietly.

“Just wish they made these vents bigger.” He sucked in his gut to squeeze through to the next section of the vent.

“Like in an extra-large size?” Kit giggled to himself. The small cub wasn’t having any trouble making his way through the cramped vents, unlike his overweight father.

Baloo’s shirt had caught on a rivet. He tugged and tugged on it. Ruefully, he replied, “Exactly, kid. Bigger vents for bigger people. Just like clothes.”His shirt released itself from the rivet with a loud ‘rip’. He looked at the long gash in his shirt. “Man, Becky’s not gonna like that.”

“All Baloo wants for Christmas is a bigger vent,” Kit whisper-sang.

Baloo lightly swatted the boy’s behind. “Hey, show some respect for your ol’ Papa Bear.”

“I thought Mom put you on a diet.”

“She did, an’ I lost about five pounds,” Baloo grunted. His shirt was stuck on another rivet. “But I gained it all back an’ more at Louie’s second annual Carmen Miranda Night a coupla weekends back. Gimmee a hand, Li’l Britches.”

Kit tugged on Baloo’s hands. When Baloo popped from between the rivets, Kit tumbled head over heels backwards. He sounded like a bowling ball careening down a bowling lane.

“Hope nobody heard that,” Kit murmured, rubbing his sore head.

Baloo fingered the second, larger tear in his shirt. “Becky’s really not gonna like that.”

They came to a crossroads where two vents intersected.

“Now, which way, kiddo?”

Kit hissed, “Shh!” when he heard Karnage’s voice. He closed his eyes and concentrated. If he remembered correctly, the pirate captain’s room was seven rooms to the right. “This way.”

They took a right and Kit began counting grates. “Six...seven. This should be it.”

Kit’s hypothesis was confirmedwhen they heard Karnage say, “They’re right. It’s better to receive than to give. ‘Tis the season to get presents, presents, presents. Hee-hee-hee! I’m sledding through the dough!”

Kit pointed down through the vent and mouthed, “Lower me.”

Baloo carefully, quietly opened the grate and dangled Kit by his ankles into Karnage’s bedroom. “Whattaya see, Li’l Britches?” he hissed.

“Karnage and a big pile of stolen stuff,” Kit whispered. It was hard not to laugh. Karnage looked so silly as he basically swam around in his loot.

“Any other pirates around?”

“Nope. Karnage is all alone and talking to himself. He probably ordered the crew away so he could enjoy his haul.”

“All alone, huh?” Baloo whispered, pulling Kit through the vent and softly snapping the grate back into place. “That gives me an idea, partner, an’ it’s so crazy, it just might work. C’mon, we gotta get Wildcat an’ the