continued to write.
Baloo
peeked over at the clipboard, which earned him a reproving look from
Mr. Tannenbaum.
“Whatcha
writin’?”
“Notes.”
“Notes
about what?”
In
clipped tones, Mr. Tannenbaum answered, “Notes to help me decide
who the winner will be.”
“Oh.
How are we doin’?”
“It’s
too early to decide.”
“Oh...”
Squirming under Mr. Tannenbaum’s steady gaze, he said, “Nice
weather we’re havin’. Just look at them clouds.”
“How
long have you known your wife, Mr. Cunningham?” Receiving no
answer, he repeated, “Mr. Cunningham?”
“Oh,
yeah. Mr. Cunningham. That’s me,” Baloo said with a nervous
chuckle. “Would ya mind runnin’ that by me again? I was, uh,
checkin’ the gauges. We’re right on course.”
“How
long have you known your wife?”
“A
long time.” Way too long. “Say...how’d you like to fly
the Duck?”
“I’m
not a licensed pilot. It would be against the law.”
“I
won’t tell nobody. Cross my heart an’ hope ta fly,” he vowed,
crossing his heart with his forefinger.
“Are
you in the habit of letting guests fly your plane, Mr. Cunningham?”
Mr. Tannenbaum said disapprovingly.
“Why
be so formal? Call me Baloo. Please?”
Mr.
Tannenbaum ignored his pleas. “Will you please answer the
question, Mr. Cunningham?”
Defeated,
Baloo sighed. He murmured contritely, “No, I ain’t in the habit
of lettin’ guests fly my plane.”
“Then
why should I be the exception?”
“I,
uh...” Since Baloo couldn’t think of a plausible answer, he
said, “Nice weather we’re havin’ today, huh?”
Never
had a cargo flight seemed so long to Baloo. Mr. Tannenbaum’s
relentlessly bombarded him with probing questions until the pilot was
confused to who he really was. For a few moments, he even thought
that he was Mr. Cunningham! On top of that, Baloo was forced to spin
an enormous web of lies, so big that he couldn’t keep them all
straight. He found himself being constantly tripped up, something
that he, an expert liar, had never experienced before.
When
they finally reached Rio de Jalapeño - one hour late, because
Baloo got sidetracked by Mr. Tannenbaum and his questions - the pilot
still found himself being scrutinized by the judge. Mr. Tannenbaum
watched with eagle-sharp eyes as Baloo unloaded the cargo. He
watched as Baloo talked to the receiving clerk, watched as Baloo
explained to the clerk why they were late. He even watched as Baloo
got a drink from the public drinking fountain.
Wiping
a few drips of water from his chin with the palm of his hand, Baloo
asked, “Wanna see the sights while we’re here, Mr. T? Grab a
burrito or three?”
Mr.
Tannenbaum flipped through his notes. “Shouldn’t we be getting
back, Mr. Cunningham? Your wife mentioned another delivery.”
“She
did?” Baloo said, surprised. Racking his mind, he vaguely recalled
her saying something a few minutes before they took off. What it was
exactly, he couldn’t remember. He decided to bluff. “Oh, that’sright! Chinchilla slippers to Thembria.”
“Toilet
brushes to Flushing,” he said drily.
Baloo
chuckled nervously. “Yeah, well, they’re both kinda fuzzy.”
“Mm-hmm,”
Mr. Tannenbaum murmured softly, making a brief notation.
“Adios,
fifty thousand smackers,” Baloo muttered as he trudged up the back
hatch, into the Sea Duck.
Four
Hours Later
Baloo
breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted a familiar island in the
distance. “Comin’ into Louie’s.”
“Louie’s?
What’s that?” Mr. Tannenbaum asked crisply.
“Only
the swingingest place...” he caught Mr. Tannenbaum’s eye and
amended, “to fill up the Duck’s gas tank. We’re, uh,
runnin’ low.”
After
a picture-perfect landing, Baloo and Mr. Tannenbaum stepped out of
the seaplane onto the dock.
“Fill
‘er up, fellas,” Baloo said to the three monkey gas jockeys.
While they continued up the dock to the nightclub, he told the judge,
“Since we’re here, we might as well say howdy to Louie. You’ll
like him.”
Mr.
Tannenbaum said nothing. He was too busy taking in every detail of
Louie’s Place. A look of cool disdain was on his face.
His
lips tightened when they entered the nightclub. It was crammed with
both freelance and Khan’s pilots. Simian waiters swung overhead
from the bar to the tables, bearing refreshments. In one corner, two
men were sharing a heated discussion which was verging on a brawl.
Over the din blared the juke box.
Seeing
nothing unusual, Baloo threaded his way through the crowd. He dodged
the chair that hurtled towards him; the two men had resorted to
fisticuffs. Furniture and dishes flew in their wake. “Welcome to
Louie’s,” he proudly shouted over the noise. “Home of the
world-famous Krakatoa Special.”
“Never
heard of it.” Mr. Tannenbaum said just as there came a loud crash!
The
men had busted through the wall and were now rolling around on the
dock. Following a quick glance in that direction, everyone resumed
what they were doing.
“It’s
the most debobalicious sundae you ever tasted. I’ll get my best
bud to fix ya one.” He greeted the orangutan emerging from his
office with a loud, “Hey, Louie!”
Louie
motioned to Waldo, one of his workers, to patch up the wall, then
bounded over to his friend. “Baloo, amigo! Just the man I was
lookin’ for. About your tab...”
“Ix-nay.
Ix-nay,” Baloo murmured.
“Tab?”
Mr. Tannenbaum echoed. “You owe this man money, Mr. Cunningham?”
“Yup.
Forty boffo buckeroos.” Louie held out his hand. “Pay up, Mr.Cunningham!”
Baloo
silenced Louie with a look. He muttered out of the corner of his
mouth, “Later.” Aloud, he said, “How’s about gettin’ Mr.
Tannenbaum a Krakatoa Special? He’s dyin’ ta try one - just like
some ape I know if he spills the beans.”
Always
willing to make his signature sundae, Louie vaulted over the bar.
“One Krakatoa comin’ up.”
“Sir,
might I ask where the bathroom is?” Mr. Tannenbaum said.
“Sure,
man. It’s right over there,” Louie replied, pointing to a door
on the far side of the room with his toes.
When
Mr. Tannenbaum began to carefully pick his way through the crowd
towards the restroom, Louie asked, “Hey, cuz, what’s with all
the hush-hush? Is he a librarian?”
“Naw,
he’s a judge.” Baloo slumped against the bar, feeling as though he
could finally relax.
“Looks
more like a goat to me,” Louie chuckled.
“He
gets my goat. That guy is part of Becky’s latest get-rich-quick
scheme.”
“Uh-oh.
What’s she up to now?”
Baloo
quickly filled him in.
Placing
five sparklers atop the sundae, Louie remarked, “That sounds like a
doozy.”
“An’
it’s makin’ me dizzy.” Baloo said. Elbow on the bar, he leaned
his head against his hand. “On top of all that, I had to spend all
day with Mr. Twenty Questions.”
Louie
shook his head and placed a Mango Fandango on the bar for his friend.
“That’s rough, cuz, but look on the bright side. You get to
spend all week with the bodacious Becky.”
“You
can have her,” Baloo averred, taking a long sip through the
straw. “I can’t get away from her, innkeeper. She’s there
when I go to sleep, there when I wake up, when I eat. She’s
watchin’ my every wakin’ moment, an’ if she ain’t, that judge
is!”
“If
ya stick it out, you’ll be free from Rebecca’s crazy plans
forever.”
“That’s
the only reason I’m goin’ through with this nutsy notion.”
Baloo raised his glass. “Here’s hopin’.”
“Hoping
what?” Mr. Tannenbaum said, causing Baloo to spit out his drink.
“Hopin’
that you found the restroom,” Louie replied, pounding a coughing
Baloo on the back.
“Speaking
of the restroom, I need to inform the proprietor about the vulgar
messages on the walls.”
“We...cough...don’t
have time for that,” Baloo choked out. “Got a schedule to keep,
Mr. T.” As he steered the judge towards the exit, he thought, Never
thought I’d say that! “See ya around, Louie.”
“Good
luck, cuz,” Louie said with a wave.
“Thanks!
I’ll need it!” Baloo shouted over his shoulder.
Rebecca’s
Bedroom
That
Night
“Today
was a little easier, don’t you think, Baloo?” Rebecca asked
tiredly; she sighed with relief as she slipped between the cool
sheets.
“Oh,
yeah. Easy as fallin’ off a log,” Baloo growled. The big bear
was on his knees as he spread his blankets out on the floor. “Do
you know how many lies I told that guy today?”
“Lying
has never bothered you before,” she smirked.
“I
dunno if I can keep ‘em all straight.” He crawled into his
makeshift bed and lay there, hands behind his head.
“As
long as you keep your deliveries straight, we’ll be okay.” She
arranged papers on her bed, made sure that the earmuffs were within
easy reach on the night stand, and flipped off the light above Baloo.
From
out of the blue, Baloo said, “Becky?”
“Mm-hmm?”
she said, intent on her paperwork.
“You
don’t wanna know what I wanted to do to that clipboard.”
“Ba-loo!”
Rebecca scolded. Leaning over the side of the bed, she frowned
disapprovingly at him.
Holding
up the pencil that had rolled onto the floor, he said reassuringly,
“Easy, Beckers. I kept my cool.”
“Good.”
He
grinned mischievously at her. “Just wait ‘til it’s your turn
with Mr. Whiskers tomorrow.”
“I’m
sure we’ll get along just fine, thank you.” Rebecca
snatched the pencil from him and
returned to
her paperwork.
“Uh-huh." Baloo smiled a secret smile, wishing that he could be a fly on the
wall of Higher for Hire tomorrow. “Nighty-night.”
“Goodnight,
Baloo.”
End
of part 2
It’s
Dough Contest
part
3
Higher
for Hire
Wednesday
Afternoon
Day
3
Rebecca
glanced from her delivery
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