we're going back to Cape Suzette."

"And give up our chance to buy back the Duck and be rich for the rest of our lives? No can do, partner." Baloo flopped like a very wet whale onto very squishy land. He reached over and pulled Kit out of the swamp. "We just gotta figger out a plan to get the egg back from the bad guys of unusual size."

"How?" Kit got to his feet and wrung his sweater out.

"I dunno." Baloo shrugged. "I'm makin' this up as I go. But ol' Papa Bear's got half a plan that...that…" Finally, he hastily admitted, "Prob'ly won't work."

"I have half a mind to take the Sea Duck and fly home," Kit muttered. He kicked at a clump of cattails then reluctantly followed Baloo back to the city.

Later…
Back at Cove Fefi

A big, moustached bear in a trench coat that was three sizes too small traversed the street. As he walked, he shed cheap jewelry and watches like Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of clinking crumbs.

The jewelry hitting the sidewalk attracted the attention of the greedy Cove Fefi citizens. They scrambled for the brass and cubic zirconia items like children grabbing for candy at a parade.

"Those doodads are makin' the locals wise to us, Li'l Britches," the big man hissed, addressing the oddly shaped lump on his chest, under the coat.

"Hey, sorry, but those doodads are poking me," was the lump's whispered retort. "I can't believe you paid that guy twenty shaboozies for this lousy disguise."

"What's with you, lady?" Baloo touched his moustache to make sure it was still attached. It was. "What? Ya never seen a guy talk to his kid...coat...kid before?"

The woman, who had been giving Baloo a confused look, snatched a watch from a child and skedaddled.

The little girl yelled, "Hey, I had that first, Mom!" and ran after her.

Leaving several people squabbling over fake Roarlexes, Baloo stepped into the pawn shop temporarily occupied by Trader Moe and his goons. Luckily for the two bears, Trader Moe, the brains of the operation, was busy trying to steal the second Fabriget egg away from the emus in the back room. From the shouting and crashing, it was obvious that it was not going well.

"Visitor, boss!" both goons called simultaneously.

"You take care of 'em. I'm...ow! Stupid emu! Busy!"

"How can we's help youse?" asked Rhino Goon. He looked like he wanted to forcefully 'help' Baloo out the door.

Baloo eyed the Fabriget egg on the counter, tantalizingly within reach. Then he eyed the hulking goons towering behind it. He had to distract them somehow. "I wanna see that candy dish waaaay up there." He pointed to the very top shelf, which was approximately fifteen feet above them.

Instead of using the ladder propped against the shelves, the goons began trying to climb on each other's shoulders.

"I'll get it."

"No, I'll get it."

"Hold still."

"You hold still."

Finally, after falling down in a store-shaking heap a couple of times, Rhino Goon decided that Ape Goon would climb on his shoulders.

"Now, Kit," Baloo whispered as Ape Goon began his precarious ascent. Several knickknacks crashed to their demise in the process.

"Got it!" Ape Goon said, holding up the candy dish triumphantly as he wobbled on Rhino Goon's shoulders.

Kit, who was tied by a rope to Baloo's chest, reached his arms from out of the trench coat, snatched the Fabriget egg, and pulled it back under the coat. "So do I," the boy whispered with a grin. Baloo began sidling out of the store.

After Ape Goon descended with the candy dish, Rhino Goon noticed that something was missing from the counter. "Hey, where's da egg?"

"It's not dere."

"The boss is not gonna be happy," the goons sang in stereo, glaring at the big bear, who had his hand on the doorknob.

Baloo, the truthful, started to stammer and sweat. His false moustache trembled, threatening to detach itself.

"Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it," Kit thought desperately under the coat.

A Little While Later…
Back at the Swamp

Baloo and Kit, minus one Fabriget egg, flew out of the pipe into the swamp.

"You just had to say it," Kit said accusingly.

"Pitooey!" Baloo spit out the false moustache, which had been crammed into his mouth. "Can I help it if I can't lie?"

"Got any more bright ideas?" Kit asked sarcastically, wringing out his cap.

"Bright ideas?" Smiling, Baloo snapped his fingers. "As a matter of fact…"

Ten Minutes Later…

Pilot and navigator flew out of the pipe and did synchronized belly flops into the swamp.

Surfacing, Kit spit a stream of water out of his mouth. "Blech! I know those goons aren't that bright, but did you really think they'd believe we were light bulb salesmen?"

"Ya gotta admit, it was watts of fun." Off the boy's annoyed look, Baloo said, "Don't worry, Li'l Britches, this next idea'll trick 'em for sure."

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Once again, the two bears flew out of the pipe and splashed into the swamp. Perched atop the pipe, the rat held up four fingers to the tiny turtles, indicating that it was the fourth time. The rat and turtles seemed to be laughing.

Surfacing, Kit coughed, "Magicians?"

Baloo doffed a black top hat, revealing a rabbit sitting on his head. The rabbit jumped from his head to Kit's head to dry land, vanishing into the cattails surrounding the swamp. "Hey, that disappearin' trick of Louie's always worked before. 'Course, he never really let me in on how it was done."

Kit was more than a little fed up. He was tired of being flushed through that pipe, plus he knew he'd have to take at least five baths to get the swamp smell out of his fur. "Face it, Baloo, none of your screwball schemes will work, because you can't lie."

"You're right, Kit-boy," admitted a dejected Baloo.

Relieved, Kit scrambled out of the swamp and held out a hand to help Baloo out.

Getting an idea, Baloo's face brightened. "Which means the only way to get that egg is to tell the truth."

Shaking his head, Kit said to himself, "I think he's finally cracked."

Back at Cove Fefi

"I can't believe you spent your last shaboozie on glow-in-the-dark sunglasses," Kit said as a group of Cove Fefi citizens sped by them, a chant of 'Fabriget egg' on their lips and blazing torches in their hands.

"Hey, I had to have some kind of disguise from those hard-boiled egg hunters. Besides, I think that little what's-his-name might be onto somethin'. Oof!" Baloo had smacked face-first into a streetlight pole.

"Yeah, like a broken nose." Seeing two men enter the pawn shop where Trader Moe and his goons were, Kit exclaimed, "Baloo, look!"

"I wonder what's in that crate that guy's carryin'? C'mon, Li'l Britches." Tucking the sunglasses into his shirt pocket, Baloo led Kit to the alley behind the pawn shop. Crouching on either side of the door, they peered through the torn screen with bated breaths.

Trader Moe was saying, "Ah, Mr. Sultan, how nice of youse to join us here."

Mr. Sultan, the CEO of Miniversal Corporation, peered around the pawn shop nervously. The night had a thousand eyes in Cove Fefi; his reputation could be tarnished forever if his actions became known in the outside world. "Please, no names," he said brusquely, pulling his fedora down in an attempt to conceal his face. "Do you have what I'm here for?"

"First, let's see if you've got what I'm here for." Trader Moe grinned, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth.

One glance at the two armed goons towering behind Trader Moe and the portly tiger started sweating through his expensive three-piece silk suit. He turned to the panther sagging under the weight of the crate. "Give the man what he wants."

The panther gladly set the crate down on the floor.

"Boys." Trader Moe snapped his fingers. In less than two seconds, the goons had ripped the crate apart with their bare hands.

"A washing machine?" Kit whispered in disbelief.

Baloo shrugged before returning his attention to the scene inside the pawn shop.

"Per your request, my team of inventors designed it so that with a push of a button, you can wash fifty clamshells at once. It'll also automatically dry and polish them," Mr. Sultan said, showing Trader Moe all the appliance's features.

"Why do you wanna clean clams, boss?" Rhino Goon asked.

Ape Goon, looking very perplexed, echoed, "Yeah, what clams are clean?"

"At Moolah-Boolah, clean clamshells are worth twice as much as dirty clamshells. If we charge everyone for laundering their clams, we'll make a fortune. Give him da eggs, boys."

Mr. Sultan held his new shiny possessions aloft, his smile gleaming as brightly as the tiny golden birds at the center of the eggs. "Finally, I have something that Shere Khan doesn't have!"

Outside, there was a loud whistle. A deep voice that sounded suspiciously like Baloo shouted, "Hey, guys, the Fabriget eggs are in there!" A split second later, the greedy mob burst through the front door.

Giving a shout of dismay, Mr. Sultan ran out of the back door of the pawn shop. As he

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