declare war on Usland in…”

 

“Man, talk about boar-ger-wa-zee with a capital bore!”

 

“No music.” A disappointed Dunder slipped the radio back in his pocket.

 

Baloo blankly stared at the snowflakes falling at his feet. “I bet back home Broadcast Sally is servin’ up all the Christmas platters.”

 

Dunder paused in mid-bite to ask, “Do you actually know Broadcast Sally?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Is she as beautiful as she sounds?” Dunder said between crunches of slightly icy turnip.

 

Despite his despondent mood, Baloo smiled wanly as he remembered the big-boned hippo who had a big crush on him. “Well, let’s just say she can serve up the platters, but she’s no dish.”

 

“You must miss listening to her,” the sergeant said sympathetically.

 

“Yeah,” Baloo sighed and removed the snapshot of the Higher for Hire gang from his pocket. “This is what I really miss.”

 

“That’s a nice picture.”

 

“That’s more’n nice.  That’s home.”  Baloo studied the photograph for a long time, a sad smile on his face. “Hey, can I ask your opinion?”

 

Upon hearing that word ‘opinion’, Sergeant Dunder was so afraid that his turnip toppled out of his hands and sank in the snow. He murmured just loud enough for Baloo to hear: “Opinions aren’t allowed in Thembria, sir.  They lead to ideas and the State doesn’t like that.”

 

“This ain’t even about Thembria.  It’s just one little ol’ opinion about this little ol’ picture.”

 

Dunder seriously considered the question for a moment, furtively looked around to make sure no one was listening, then nodded slightly.

 

As if fearful of the answer he might receive, Baloo couldn’t look at Dunder while he stammered: “Do we...?  I mean, do the people in the picture look...?”

 

“Warm?  Yes, sir.  You must miss being warm as much as you miss your comrades.”

 

“Comrades?” Baloo exclaimed.  He wasn’t expecting that word.

 

“Your social equals,” Dunder explained. “Everyone’s a comrade in Thembria except the High Marshall.  Or any of the top, top officials.  And I wouldn’t dare call Col. Spigot a comrade.  He’d have me shot.”

 

“Well, these are real special comrades. My comrade Louie calls ‘em...um, fam...family.” Baloo quickly brushed off a teardrop that had fallen on the photograph and glanced over at Dunder.

 

However, the sergeant hadn’t noticed the teardrop, because he was intently folding his empty paper sack. “We have families in Thembria, too.”

 

“Where’s yours?”

 

Dunder looked even more solemn than usual as he stowed the neatly folded sack in his pocket. “Oh, they were shot a long time ago.”

 

“Sorry, pal.”  Baloo clapped a compassionate hand to Dunder’s shoulder.

 

“You’re lucky to have a family, sir.”

 

Regretfully, Baloo muttered to himself, “Eh, I used to be.” 

 

“Dinner break is almost over.  We’d better get ready for guard duty.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”  Following Sergeant Dunder’s lead, he put the photograph back in his pocket and shouldered his rifle in preparation of pacing around the warehouse.  

 

As they stood there, waiting for the bell denoting the end of dinner break, Baloo said, “Kit, Wildcat and me were supposed to go fly-fishin’ Sunday, and I promised Molly we’d finish reading her fairytale book.  And what’s Becky gonna do about the lemons that are comin’ Monday?  If I’m not there to deliver ‘em, the whole deal will go sour, just like this ambassador gig.” He laughed bitterly. “Some ambassador!  I’m down and out, while at this very minute Col. Fakeroo is livin’ it up with Becky, eatin’ horse doovers and swillin’ champagne...”

 

Meanwhile...
Carousel Club
Cape Suzette

 

Col. Conrad recoiled as a mouthful of champagne hit him squarely in the face.

 

“Defected?  No one defects to Thembria!” Rebecca’s voice rang shrilly throughout the very posh, very pastel nightclub.

 

Everyone, from the people seated at the tables to the couples on the dance floor, turned to look at her in disgust and impatience. The band that slowly spun around on the giant carousel in the middle of the club began “Begin the Beguine” again.

 

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I saw it myself.” Conrad drawled, dabbing at his face with a napkin. He took the empty champagne glass from her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and flashed his world-famous smile as the paparazzi snapped picture after picture.

 

“But...but...defected?” she said dazedly.

 

The glamor and excitement of being on a date with Usland’s most famous hero was quickly fading.  She wished that she was in a quiet corner café eating hamburgers with Baloo, far away from the media circus and the fans that had constantly buzzed around them like a swarm of bees. Spots danced before her eyes from all the flashbulbs and her head reeled from the noise of the jabbering, fawning fans. 

 

She murmured to herself, “I just wanted to make him a little jealous, not defect to Thembria.”

 

Conrad signed a simpering vixen’s napkin, handed it back to her with a wink that caused her to swoon, then turned to Rebecca. “Let’s not dwell on the past.  I reckon it’s better to think about the future. Our future.”  With a flourish, he took a black velvet box out of his uniform pocket and opened it, revealing a very, very large diamond ring.  “Will you marry me?”

 

The photographers and fans leaned in closer to hear her answer.

 

“I-I...uh...” Rebecca stammered. She didn’t know what stunned her most - Baloo’s defecting, the fact that Usland’s most famous hero was asking her to be Mrs. Col. Conrad, or the blinding gem that was staring her in the face.  She put up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare.

 

Col. Conrad gave the people pressing around the table his most charming smile. “Can Ms. Rebecca and I have a little ol’ moment alone, please?”

 

After the crowd had scattered, Conrad scootched closer to Rebecca on the semi-circle bench they shared.  As he advanced, she retreated.  “I reckon I’m just the most eligible bachelor in the entire country.  I have three estates, fifteen vee-hicles, a collection of airplanes, my own personal runway, a 30-foot yacht, my own pier, not to mention oodles of money.  This ring alone cost fifty grand.” 

 

“Fifty...thousand...dollars?”  Rebecca gasped.  She was so shocked by the exorbitant price that she paused for a moment in her escape towards the end of the plush peach-colored bench.

 

Conrad mistook her shock for awe at his greatness.  Unlike every other woman he’d ever know, Rebecca wasn’t completely mesmerized by him.  In fact, she had been playing hard-to-get all night, but it looked like she was finally ready to be caught. He knew that the ring would do it. That, and his magnetic personality.

 

Smiling triumphantly, he cozied up to her and slipped a possessive arm around her shoulders. “Ya’ll have everything you ever wanted. Most importantly, you, Kurt, and Holly...”

 

“Kit and Molly,” Rebecca corrected with an annoyed frown.

 

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “…will add to my perfect image.”  He grinned at their reflections in the mirror on the wall opposite their booth.  He was really attracted to this sweet, yet sassy, brown-eyed bearess.  Most importantly, her appearance complimented his perfectly, she with her sleek brown hair and him with his golden curls. As an added bonus, she was the mother of two adorable cubs who adored him. “Yessirie, we’ll look delightful in the papers and the movies.  Don’t you think I’ll look good as the head of a family?  All the presidents have ‘em and the way things are going, I’m gonna be president someday.”

 

“But we barely know each other,” Rebecca protested as she struggled to pry his fingers from her arm.

 

“I reckon that’s because I’m just a little ol’ shy boy from the south, sugar.”

 

“You’ll be shy one arm if you don’t stop doing that!”  She finally succeeded in shrugging him off and promptly tumbled off the edge of the bench with an “Ah!”   When she landed on the lavender carpet with a jarring thump, her hairpins jolted loose, letting her S-shaped up-do fall down.

 

“You’ll get to know me,” he said as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Look me up in Who’s Who, The Ambassador’s Quarterly, read about me in any Uslandian newspaper, or listen about me on the

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