Suzette.

“Give the presents back?” Karnage squeaked.

While he was being lowered to the floor, Wildcat nodded furiously.

“Yes! Yes! I will give them back right this very second.” Karnage unlocked the door, flung it open, and bolted from the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Halt the present pillaging and the gift gouging!”

Everyone stepped out from behind the all-concealing curtain.

“We did it.” Kit exhaled a sigh of relief. He, Molly, and Duncan exchanged high-fives.

“Ow-how-how! He stepped on my foot!” Wildcat wailed. “Oops, I talked.”

“You can talk all ya want to, Wildcat.” Baloo clapped the mechanic on the back. “Good job, guys.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rebecca said, gathering up props, “before Karnage comes back”

Higher for Hire
That Evening

Baloo was slumped on the sofa, looking at his Christmas present from his children - a bottle opener with a magnet on the back so that he could stick it to the Sea Duck’s control panel. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts he had ever received. To fool their father into thinking it was something really big, the cubs had filled the box with rocks. Was he surprised when he turned the box over and out poured pebbles! He poked the bottle opener into his shirt pocket and patted his big belly, which was a little bigger than usual. “Boy, that was one good bird.”

Kit, sitting cross-legged on the floor, examined the pieces of his new model. He started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Li’l Britches?”

“It was funny how Karnage yelled over his loudspeaker, ‘Remember that it was the glorious, beneviolet, really nice Don Karnage who is giving all your nifty holiday presents back!’ before the Iron Vulture took off.”

“Yeah, ol’ Karny never ceases ta amaze me,” Baloo said with a chuckle. “He won’t pull the Santa stunt again.”

“Or the ghosts will return,” Kit said. He hopped onto the sofa beside his father.

Baloo affectionately wrapped an arm around Kit’s shoulders. “Pay no attention to that ghost behind the curtain...booo!”

“Dishes are done, Daddy.” Molly sprinted from the kitchen and pounced on her father’s stomach, inciting a pained “Oof!” from the big bear.

“No thanks to a certain bear who will remain nameless.” Rebecca glared at her husband.

Baloo once again patted his bulging abdomen proudly. “Hey, I did my share. I saved ya from eatin’ leftovers for a week.”

“I’m the one eating for two, not you, flyboy,” Rebecca retorted.

“What can I say? I’m a growin’ boy,” the pilot countered.

Rebecca snickered. “Growing out, you mean.”

Wildcat came through the front door carrying a thin book. “Guys, lookee what I found. It’s a book with a picture of a jolly fat man on the cover.”

“Well, it’s not Baloo,” Rebecca said sarcastically with a smirk

“Gee, thanks, Becky,” Baloo muttered morosely.

“It’s about Santa. Read it, Wildcat.” Molly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, gazed at the bright picture of Santa Claus in his sleigh pulled by eight reindeer on the cover.

Wildcat settled in the easy chair. Molly scrambled onto his lap so she could look at the pictures. Rebecca nestled beside Kit on the sofa. Baloo slung his arm around both brown bears, murmuring, “This oughtta be interestin’,” with a wink.

Wildcat read, “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore.”

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a c...cr...

“Creature,” Molly supplied softly.

“Oh, yeah, Mollycat. Creature.”

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

“Do you think the mouse was stirring his little cocoa with an itty-bitty swizzlestick?” Wildcat speculated.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicolas soon would be there;

“Does he give out nickels?” said Wildcat.

“St. Nicolas is another name for Santa Claus,” Kit explained.

Wildcat’s eyes lit up with misunderstanding. “Oh, I get it! St. Nicolas is his real name when he’s not being Santa Claus.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Baloo chuckled. “Keep goin’.”

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

“What’s a sugar-plum?” asked Molly.

“Candy,” answered Rebecca.

“Stop a second, Wildcat.” Racing to her pile of presents under the tree, Molly selected a candy cane, and returned to her place on the lion’s lap. “Okay, keep going.”

And Mama in her ‘kerchief

“Gesundheit!” said Wildcat.

Baloo groaned.

And Mama in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

“If it goes clatter-clatter, it’s a busted wing-ding, but if it goes eerk-eerk, it’s a cracked clinkenheimer,” said Wildcat.

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave a luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my won...won...

“Wondering,” Molly mumbled around the candy cane in her mouth.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

“Are they called reindeer, ‘cause they’re deer wearing reins?” Wildcat pondered this for a while before continuing.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet! on, Cupid! on Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

“What if we don’t have a porch?” asked Wildcat. “Where do the reindeer land?”

“On the roof, I guess,” Molly suggested. “Santa is magic. He can land anywhere he wants to.”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

“If there’s a hurricane, the leaves wouldn’t be dry. There’s always lots and lots of rain with hurricanes,” Wildcat said.

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

“Poof! The hoofs are on the roofs,” Wildcat said.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound

“Hope the fire was out. Otherwise, that would have been a hot landing,” Wildcat pointed out.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tar...

“Tarnished,” said Molly sleepily.

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

“Ashes and soot would be easier to wash off than grease and spoons,” Wildcat added.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow

“Like a bow tie? How’s he do that?” Wildcat puckered his lips comically, causing Kit to giggle.

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

“Like the wreath Baloo had on his head today?” asked Wildcat.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

“Baloo’s belly is kinda like that,” Wildcat remarked.

“Watch it!” Baloo grumbled.

“If you’d only stick to your diet, Baloo, you wouldn’t have a belly like jelly,” Rebecca said airily, prompting an indignant scowl from her husband.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

“How’s he do that without getting stuck?” Wildcat wondered.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

“Whee! That would be fun!” Wildcat said.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

“Thanks, Wildcat, that was...different,” Rebecca said with an amused smile.

Kit commented, “I’ll never think of that poem the same way again. I kinda liked it.”

“Me, too,” said Baloo.

Molly didn’t say anything. She was fast asleep on Wildcat’s lap. The mechanic removed the sticky sweet from her paw and carried her up to bed.

Kit yawned, grinning up at the big bear who was patting him on the head.

“Did ya have a good Christmas, Li’l Britches? Get everythin’ ya wanted?”

Like Rebecca, Kit thought that his best present was his family. But the other stuff was nice to have, too. He cast a glance at his pile of presents beside the tree. “Yeah, I feel like Karnage with all this loot. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Papa Bear.” He hugged each in turn.

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Rebecca said, kissing the boy on the cheek.

“Can I get a plane next year?” the boy asked hopefully. “I’ll be fourteen. Pleeeeaaaase?”

Baloo met his wife’s eyes and laughed. “Keep dreamin’, kiddo.”

“How rich do you think we are?” Rebecca shook her head. “Save your pennies.”

“Aw...it’ll take me years to save enough.”

“Good. Gives me a chance ta learn ya a thing or two or three.” Baloo hugged the boy again and whispered in his ear, “Better scoot ta bed.”

“Okay.” Kit

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