All’s Bear in Love and War
Part 1

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

 

Higher for Hire
Thanksgiving Day
November 1937

A drowsy, contented feeling mingled with the lingering aroma of the delicious Thanksgiving dinner that now reposed in the full tummies of Higher for Hire’s crew.

 

Kit, lounging on a crate by the sunny window, pored over a Flyboy Magazine article touting the latest exploits of one Colonel Conrad.

 

As the boy gazed at picture after glossy picture of the handsome hero, he read, “‘Between peacekeeping missions, Usland’s ambassador to Thembria still performs the fantastic flying feats that made him a household name.’ Stopped a forest fire by dumping water on it, flew through a blizzard to take medical supplies to a remote mountain hospital, and rescued a kitten from the top of a tree all in one day? Wow!  That Col. Conrad must be the best pilot in the world...except for Baloo, that is.” 

 

He was going to show Baloo the article about Usland’s most famous hero, but one glance at the big bear dozing in his easy chair told him that he would have a better chance of getting the last piece of pumpkin pie than waking his Papa Bear.

 

Instead, Kit turned his attention to Molly lounging on Baloo’s lap, reading a book aloud.

 

“Then the Papa Bear said, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge’.  And the Mama Bear said, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge’.  And the Baby Bear said...”

 

Snoooooorrrre!

 

Indignantly, Molly cried, “That’s not what the Baby Bear said.”  She turned to look up at the big bear.  Seeing that he was asleep, she shouted,  “Ba-LOO!”

 

Baloo murmured groggily, “The Three Billy Goats Gruff ate Cinderella’s shoe and they all lived happily...ever...after...snore.”

 

Molly frowned for a while, then a devious look crossed her face.  She stood up on his lap, and, hands on her hips, said sternly á la her mother, “If you don’t get out of here with that cargo this second, buster, you’re fired!”

 

The big bear jerked awake, his heart pounding. “I’m goin’, Becky, I’m goin’!”  After a moment, his blurry eyes focused on Molly’s smirking face.  “That was a mean trick to play on ol’ Baloo, kiddo.”

 

“Well, you keep falling asleep.”  She plumped back down on his ample lap and picked up her book.  “That Goldilocks sure looks innocent, doesn’t she?”

 

“What do you mean, Molly?” Kit asked, glancing up from his magazine.

 

“I mean, she doesn’t look like someone who would steal porridge.”

 

“Who’d want to steal porridge anyway?”  Kit wrinkled up his nose in distaste. “Yee-uck!”

 

“Baloo, what’s porridge?” Noticing that he was already asleep, Molly shouted, “Baloo!”

 

The big bear awoke with a start.  “What?  What?”

 

“You’re sleeping again,” the little girl sang accusingly.

 

“That’s because Goldilocks and the Three Bears  has no planes or adventure, Molly,” Kit explained as he jumped off the crate and walked across the room towards the easy chair where he perched on its arm.  “If it had something more like: ‘The three brave bears had prevented the lying, thieving Goldilocks from stealing their stuff by death-defying aerial maneuvers’, he’d stay awake.”

 

“Just like when Baloo saved Cape Suzette from the Panda-La-zians!” Molly exclaimed.

 

Baloo shrugged modestly. “Aw, it was nuthin’.”

 

“It was a lot more than nothing,” Kit countered.

 

Molly counted on her fingers. “Yeah, you got a parade and your picture in the paper and an award from the mayor.”

 

“And you got to be on the radio and the MovieToon News,” Kit added proudly.

 

“And Mommy took up twelve whole pages in her scrapbook for it.”  Hugging the big bear, Molly exclaimed, “You were a famous hero!”

 

“Aw, you kids don’t wanna hear about that again.”  Baloo tried - and failed - to conceal a smile.

 

“Yes, we do!” Kit and Molly exclaimed simultaneously.

 

It didn’t take much prodding for Baloo to gloat over the glory days, even if the glory days were only a few months ago.  “Let’s take a look-see at that scrapbook again, Cupcake.  That’s my kind of reading.”

 

Just as Molly had run across the room to get the scrapbook from the desk, Rebecca came down the stairs with Wildcat right behind her.  The lion mechanic was struggling with awkward camera equipment.

 

“No time for scrapbooks. We’re going to have our picture taken,” Rebecca informed them brightly.

 

Baloo groaned.  “How come?”

 

“Because I’m the boss and I said so.”

 

“Now, wait just a prop-spinnin’ minute! That ain’t fair makin’ me get out of this chair on a holiday day.”

 

“It’s about as fair as me having to put up with a lazy bum of a pilot.” Rebecca pulled Baloo out of his chair and shooed him and the kids outside.  “I’m going to include a photograph of all of us with each of our clients’ Christmas cards.  It’ll be good for business.”

 

“It sure ain’t good for my nap time,” Baloo said through a yawn as he trudged to the end of the weatherbeaten dock.   “‘Sides, today’s Thanksgiving, meaning Christmas is a whole month away.”

 

“Never too soon for everyone to get into the holiday spirit.”

 

“Spirit, schmerit.” Baloo grumbled.

 

“I guess it takes some people longer than others.”  Rebecca flitted about, retying Molly’s hair ribbons, straightening Kit’s cap, and brushing crumbs off Baloo’s shirt.  After she had posed them, she asked, “Camera ready, Wildcat?”

 

“Roger Wilco, Miz Cunningham.  Just gotta set the little timer.”  When Wildcat pushed the wrong button, the flash went off right in his face.  “Look at all the pretty stars!  Maybe I can catch one.”  He whipped a fishing net out of his back pocket and started waving it in front of his eyes.

 

“Wildcat, stop doing...whatever it is you’re doing...and take the picture!” Rebecca snapped.

 

“All right, Miz Cunningham.  The little stars went away anyway,” Wildcat said sadly, untangling the net from around his head and returning it to his pocket. Quicker than a flash, he changed the bulb and flipped the timer switch on the camera.   “Ten, nine, eight, seven...” he counted as he rushed to join Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, and Molly standing in front of the Sea Duck.

 

“Everyone say, ‘Turkey!’” Rebecca drew Baloo’s right arm around her shoulders while gesturing for him to put his other arm around Wildcat.

 

“That’s what I feel like,” Baloo muttered sullenly, slinging his arm around Wildcat’s wiry shoulders.

 

Between clenched teeth, Rebecca said, “And smile.”

 

Flash!

 

Thembria
That Night

 

A small door opened in a large warehouse, letting a stream of warm light shoot out over the cold snowdrifts mounded on either side of the door.  The warthog who had opened the door cast a long shadow on the snow. As he stepped into the warehouse, it was immediately apparent that he was much shorter than his shadow. However, his stature wasn’t as short as his temper.  “Sergeant Dunder!” he barked.

 

Instantly, the faithful sergeant was at his side, clipboard at the ready.  “Yes, Colonel Spigot?”

 

Spigot assumed an air of great importance, comical in one so short.  “You have my instructions?”

 

“Yes, sir.”  Dunder dutifully read from the clipboard: “One hundred percent of Thembrians are completely satisfied with the High Marshall.”

 

“Those aren’t my instructions!”

 

“Sorry, sir.  I’ve been working on Pat’s report.”  The mild-mannered sergeant flipped a page and read:  “No one is to go in or out of this warehouse without clearance from you.”

 

“And...?” Spigot asked expectantly, rocking on his heels.

 

“And no one can go behind the Iron Curtain that is located in this warehouse.”

 

“Or...?”

 

“Or they will be shot.”  With as much curiosity as a Thembrian dared, Dunder asked, “What is behind the Iron Curtain, sir?”

 

Spigot trotted over to the curtain of thick iron rings that partitioned off the majority of the warehouse, thus earning the nickname ‘The Iron

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