seized his
nightshirt sleeve and hauled him into the the
door closed behind them, she figuratively exploded. “Do you want
to win this contest or not?”
“‘Course
I do,” he said, picking up the wadded-up shirt that he had worn the
day before.
“You
sure don’t act like it!” Rebecca snapped. “Your eating habits
are revolting, your manners are atrocious, and...and...whatare you doing, Baloo?”
He
was sniffing his shirt. Because it didn’t smell too bad, he shook
it out and headed for the door. “Goin’ to the bathroom to change.
Got a problem with that, lady?”
“Yes,
I have a problem with that! If you wear the same shirt you wore
yesterday, Mr. Tannenbaum will think you’re a slob.”
“Iam a slob!”
“That’s
nothing to be proud of!”
“What
put the bee in your bonnet, Rebecca?” Baloo retorted. “Why’re
you so grumpy this mornin’?”
Rebecca
slumped onto the bed. She was so tired, she felt like crying.
Instead, she said sullenly, “You’d be grumpy if you didn’t get
any sleep. You snore.”
“Well,your addin’ machine kept me up, too. So, now we’re even.”
They
glowered at each other for a moment. Then Rebecca broke the tense
silence with, “If we want to win this contest, we’re stuck with
each other for the entire week. What are we going to do, Baloo? I
can’t live without sleep for a week!”
Suddenly,
Baloo blurted out, “Kit’s earmuffs!”
“What?”
“Borr-y
Kit’s earmuffs.” Sheepishly, he added, “He don’t like my
snorin’ neither.”
That
brought a small smile to Rebecca’s face, her first genuine smile of
the day. “He’s a smart boy.”
“I’m
sure he’ll let ya use ‘em. I’ll ask him.”
“Thank
you, Baloo.”
“Don’t
mention it, boss lady.” He grinned, heading for the door.
“Baloo?”
Hand
on the doorknob, he stopped. “Yeah?”
“When
we get to Higher for Hire, put on a clean shirt.”
“Whatever
you say, Honeylips.” Baloo chuckled as he left the room.
Higher
for Hire
After
dropping the cubs off at school, Baloo, Rebecca, and Mr. Tannenbaum
drove to Higher for Hire. To Rebecca’s great relief, they had beat
the Bee’s Knees Honey delivery truck.
Just
as they were walking into the office, Wildcat called from the Sea
Duck, “Hey, Baloo!”
“Do
something before he screws it up!” Rebecca muttered, quickly
ushering Mr. Tannenbaum inside.
Baloo
hurried over to the seaplane. “Whatcha want, Wildcat?”
Crouched
atop the plane’s engines, the wiry lion mechanic asked, “Who’s
that guy with you?”
“Mr.
Tannenbaum.”
“Like
the Christmas song?” Excitedly, he asked, “Is he related to
Santa Claus?”
“No,
he ain’t related to Santy Claus,” Baloo snapped.
“Why
did you and Kit stay with Miz Cunningham last night?”
“Shh!”
Baloo hissed, putting a finger to his lips. He flung a glance at
Higher for Hire, half expecting to see Mr. Tannenbaum coming out,
accusing them of lying.
“Did
you spring a leak, Baloo? I’ve got some bubble gum.” Wildcat
began to rummage through his overalls pockets.
“Naw,
I’m not springin’ a leak.”
Wildcat
nimbly hopped down from the engine. “That’s good. Once I had an
uncle who did and it was a biiiiig mess! Buckets and buckets
and buckets.”
His
head reeling from trying to follow Wildcat’s train of thought,
Baloo explained, “I just don’t want Mr. Tannenbaum to hear you.”
“Why?
Do his ears hurt?”
“No,”
Baloo said, becoming increasingly irritated with the whole
merry-go-round conversation. “He’s a judge.”
“Wow!
I like fudge.”
“Not
fudge. Judge.”
“He’s
a fudge judge? That would be a fun job,” Wildcat said brightly.
“Getting to taste all that fudge.”
“Yeah,
it would...” Baloo licked his lips. Then, he snapped out of his
daydream. “But he ain’t that kind of judge. He’s the regular
kind. Ya see, the judge thinks Becky an’ me are married.”
“Why
would he think that?” Wildcat asked, scratching his head with his
favorite wrench.
“‘Cause
we told him.”
“You
told him before you told me?” Wildcat said, crestfallen. “I
wanted to go to the wedding, too.”
“We
ain’t really married.”
“Then
why...?”
Slowly,
Baloo said, “We’re pretendin’ to be married so we can cash in
on a whole lotta cash. Get it?”
Wildcat
nodded vehemently. “No.”
Baloo
put a hand to his head. He felt a headache coming on.
Then
Wildcat’s eyes lit up. “Can I pretend, too? What if I pretend
to be a rocket scientist named Horatio? Wait a minute...my name’s
not Horatio, is it?”
“No,Wildcat. Listen close. This week, I’m Mr. Cunningham. Me
an’ Becky are married. Kit an’ Molly are our kids, an’ we live
in Becky’s apartment.”
“Okay.”
He scratched his head. “Who am I this week?”
“Wildcat!
You’re still Wildcat! Aw, just repeat after me.”
A
few minutes later, Baloo and Wildcat entered Higher for Hire.
Seated
at her desk, Rebecca said apprehensively, “Mr. Tannenbaum, this is
our mechanic Wildcat.”
“Hello,”
Wildcat said woodenly. “It was nice of you to come. The
Cunninghams are the nicest...nicest family I know.”
“Why
don’t you get back to work on the engines, Wildcat?” Rebecca
suggested.
“Right,”
Wildcat said stiffly. “I will get back to work on the engines.”
He whispered loudly to Baloo, “Is it later yet?”
“Not
yet,” Baloo whispered back.
“Will
you tell me when later is? My watch is a little slow.”
“Sure,
sure, anythin’. Just go!” Baloo shooed him out of the
office.
From
his customary perch on the crate beside the desk, Mr. Tannenbaum
said, “Is he always so...?”
Baloo
nodded his head sadly. “‘Fraid so.”
“Poor
man.” With that, Mr. Tannenbaum wrote on the clipboard.
The
big bear added, “He’s a touch cracked, but if ya want the best
mechanic in Cape Suzette, you won’t find a sounder nut than
Wildcat.”
“Did
someone say ‘peanut’?” Wildcat said, sticking his head through
the door. “Oh, the truck’s here, Miz Cunningham.”
Pushing
the mechanic back outside, Baloo said, “Let’s load the cargo,
Wildcat.”
“How
would you like to accompany Baloo on a cargo run, Mr. Tannenbaum?”
Rebecca said in a voice dripping with honey.
Baloo
screeched to a halt.
“Wouldn’t
ya rather stay here? On the ground? Where it’s safe?” Baloo said
desperately.
“But
it’s so much more exciting in the Sea Duck.”
“I’m
sure he’d prefer to stay here. He looks like a dull,
technical sort of person, kind of like you, Honeylips.”
Rebecca
shot Baloo a warning glare. “I’d like him to see all aspects
of our business, Baloo, and the Sea Duck is a big part of
Higher for Hire.” Under her breath, she added, “Almost as big as
its pilot.”
Baloo,
who had caught this aside, growled, “All right.”
Rebecca
whispered, “Be polite!”
Baloo
immediately affixed a broad smile on his face. “I mean, all right!
It’ll be a blast, Mr. T. Just you, me, and the Sea Duck.”
To
Baloo’s surprise, Rebecca crossed the room, wrapped her arms around
his neck, and murmured in his ear, “If you mess this up, I’ll
clip your wings but good! You got me?”
“Don’t
strangle me, Becky!” Baloo gasped.
“I’ll
do worse than that if you blow it!” She kissed him on the cheek,
saying aloud, “Have a good flight, Butterball.”
Baloo,
a goofy grin on his face, stammered, “Uh...yeah.”
“Fifty
thousand dollars...” Rebecca sang softly, placing a packet of
shipping papers in his hands.
Hearing
‘dollars’, Baloo snapped out of his daze. The prospect of fifty
grand sweetened the task of babysitting the judge for the entire day,
but he still wasn’t happy. He whispered, “You owe me one,” to
Rebecca before saying, “C’mon, Mr. T. We better skedaddle, or
we’ll be in one heck of a sticky situation.”
A
few minutes later, the crates of honey were loaded onto the Sea
Duck and Baloo and Mr. Tannenbaum were on their way. They were
barely in the air when Mr. Tannenbaum unleashed a barrage of
questions.
“Have
you been to Rio de Jalapeño before, Mr. Cunningham?”
“Oh,
sure. Lots of times.” Baloo laughed. “I remember one time when
me an’ my ol’ pal Louie were there. What a crazy day that was. A
treasure map, a purdy dame, an’...you ever taken an avocado dip
before, Mr. T?”
Briskly,
he replied, “Can’t say as I have.”
“It’s
a little joke. Get it? Avocado dip? A bath made with avocados?
It’s kinda squishy...” He caught Mr. Tannenbaum’s look of
disapproval and quickly amended, “Uh, me neither.”
Mr.
Tannenbaum jotted a note on his clipboard.
For
the first time since he had met Mr. Tannenbaum, Baloo felt
frightened. He tugged at the collar of his clean shirt. Oh, man!
Becky’s gonna kill me!
Flipping
through a few pages on his clipboard, the judge asked, “What’s
your growth factor?”
Baloo
patted his stomach. “Depends on how much I eat.”
“I
meant how much does your business make a year?”
The
pilot shrugged. “Ask Becky. She pilots the desk while I pilot the
plane.”
“You
mean that you have no idea how much Higher for Hire - the business
that you own - makes?” He fixed his unwavering gaze on the pilot.
Unnerved,
Baloo chuckled nervously. “Not prezactly. As long as it’s enough
to keep me...uh, I mean, us...all of us...my family an’
me...in clothes an’ food, I don’t care.”
“I
see.” Mr. Tannenbaum made a notation on the clipboard.
“I
mean, I care, but not about money. Well, I like money as much
as the next guy. Who doesn’t? But I leave all the numbers an’
stuff to Rebecca.” Baloo hadn’t felt this flustered since he
took his F.L.A.P. flying test with Ralph ‘Love-to-Flunk-‘Em’
Throgmorton.
“I
see,” the judge said again. He continued to
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