Molly swiftly removed pieces of bubble gum from their pockets, unwrapped them, and popped them into their mouths. Their jaws worked up and down, up and down as they chomped on the gum.

After a few minutes of serious chewing, Molly said, “Here’s my wad.” She placed a slimy lump of pink bubble gum in Wildcat’s outstretched palm.

“Mine, too.” Kit added his glob of gum to the pile.

“Yeah. That should be enough,” Wildcat said, prodding the pink goo in his hand with satisfaction.

Mr. Tannenbaum looked skeptically at the mechanic. “And what does the bubble gum do, Mr. Wildcat?”

“Holds the whosit to the whatsit.” Whistling, Wildcat slapped the gum to a part inside the engine and molded it to fit its shape.

“Whosit? Whatsit?” Mr. Tannenbaum echoed, bewildered.

“Yup. That’s their names. Don’t wear ‘em out,” the mechanic laughed.

Shaking his head to clear it, the judge asked, “Why don’t you just weld it?”

“Whosits and whatsits don’t like to be welded. They’re happier when they’re free to wiggle.”

“And bubble gum provides that freedom to, er...wiggle?” Mr. Tannenbaum said drily.

Grinning, Wildcat slapped a sticky hand on the judge’s back. “Hey, you’ve got it!”

Mr. Tannenbaum pulled away, leaving a string of pink gum trailing down the back of his impeccable suit. “Uh-huh.” He began to write on his clipboard.

Five minutes later, they walked into Higher for Hire’s office. The papers had been returned to their proper places in the filing cabinets, but it wasn’t the office’s neatness that made Mr. Tannenbaum quirk his eyebrow and murmur, “How interesting.”

Rebecca was on her hands and knees, peering into the cracks in the floorboards. Baloo was probing around in the easy chair. Neither noticed the entrance of Mr. Tannenbaum, Wildcat, Kit, and Molly.

“Becky, this is stupid,” Baloo whined. “Ouch!” He swiftly removed his hand from under the cushion and stuck the finger that had gotten poked by a spring in his mouth.

“Keep looking. That receipt’s got to be somewhere.” Just then, Rebecca bumped into a pair of shoes. She found herself looking up at Mr. Tannenbaum. He and his clipboard loomed above her. “Oh...hello,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Cunningham.”

Rebecca quickly got to her feet. “You’re probably wondering what we’re doing.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tannenbaum said, pencil poised over his clipboard.

Before she could come up with a plausible-sounding explanation, Baloo exclaimed, “Hey, I found somethin’!”

Wildcat interjected with, “My marbles?”

From the interior of the chair, Baloo pulled out a sucker covered with lint and hair. “Gee, I’ve been lookin’ for that.” He promptly stuck it in his mouth and reached into the chair again.

“Blech!” Kit cried, clutching his stomach.

“Double blech!” Molly said.

Baloo pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the chair, glanced it over, and mumbled around the sucker, “Eureka!”

“Oh, yay!” Rebecca said jubilantly, snatching the bill from his hand. She hurried to her desk to enter it into her ledger.

“Musta slipped out of my pocket,” Baloo said, sinking into his chair.

Rebecca started to scold him, but then she caught Mr. Tannenbaum’s eye. “We’ll discuss this later, Baloo.”

Ring! Ring!

Scooping up a pencil and a pad of paper, Rebecca eagerly picked up the phone. “Higher for Hire. If you’re buying, we’re flying...Yes, he’s here. Just a minute.” She looked at Baloo and said, “Broadcast Sally.”

Just the mention of that name made Baloo break out in a cold sweat. “Oh, man! What day’s today?”

“Thursday.”

“Doggone it! Forgot our da...”

Before he could say ‘date’, Rebecca quickly interjected with, “Don’t you think you should take it in the other room, Butterball?”

“Right. Right.” He hurried to the warehouse, making sure to close the door behind him. Baloo gulped hard before he picked up the receiver of the wall-mounted telephone. “Hey, Sally...” he said with feigned nonchalance. “Of course, I didn’t forget. Who could forget a date with a classy lady like you? But tonight’s not a good night for me. I feel a cold comin’ on. Achoo! Will ya take a rain check?...No, huh?...I’ve already given ya three rain checks?...But I, uh...”

Rebecca slipped into the room. She stifled a giggle at the big bear’s panicked expression.

“Ya don’t hafta pick me up!...B-b-b-b-b-b-but...!” He sighed in resignation. “All right. Pick me up at my boss’s place...Why?” He looked to Rebecca for help.

She shrugged, smirking. She was having fun seeing the worm squirm.

“‘Cause they’re sprayin’ Higher for Hire for...for termites. We got lots of ‘em. Some as big as horses. Me an’ Kit are crashin’ at Becky’s this week...I...what? What am I doin’ here now? I, uh...see ya at seven. Bye.” He hung up the phone and leaned against the wall with a groan. “Thanks for the help, Becky.”

“Anytime.”

“What am I gonna tell Mr. T.? I can’t say, ‘Gee, I can’t hang out here with my wife an’ two kids tonight, because I got a date.’”

“Speaking of dates, I have a business meeting with a potential client tonight - Richard Farlie, owner of Farlie’s Fine Confections. I was going to cancel, because Mr. Tannenbaum was here.”

“Oh, baby,” Baloo snapped his fingers, “gettin’ me an idea! What if we pretend to go out with each other? Married people do that, right?”

“Pretend to go out, but go our separate ways?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “That way you can meet with the candy man, and I can get Sally off my back.”

“You know,” Rebecca said slowly, “that just might work.”

“I’ll call Sally back an’ have her meet me at the restaurant.”

Cunninghams’ Apartment
Later That Evening

Rebecca, clad in her finest pink gown, knocked impatiently on the bathroom door. “Let’s go, Baloo! We’re going to be late, and we have reservations, remember, Butterball?”

“Feather your props, Honeylips. I’m comin’.” He emerged from the bathroom. His hair was parted in the middle and was slicked down save for an unruly cowlick in the back. In addition to his yellow flight shirt, he had donned a brown jacket and an aquamarine tie. “Am I a sight for sore eyes or what?”

“You’re a sight, all right,” Rebecca laughed.

Baloo frowned, taking in her dress, pearls, and pale pink lipstick. “What’s with the fancy feathers? I thought this was a business meetin’.”

“Itis a business meeting. There’s nothing wrong with trying to impress a client,” she said with a toss of her glossy brown hair.

“What are ya tryin’ ta impress on him?”

“Shh!” Rebecca warned, jerking her head towards Mr. Tannenbaum. He was ensconced on the couch with a newspaper. His ever-present clipboard lay beside him. She gathered her purse and wrap, telling the cubs, “We’ll be back later. Bedtime’s at nine. No exceptions, Molly.” This prompted a groan of disappointment from the little girl. “And be good for Mr. Tannenbaum.”

“We will,” they answered in unison.

Baloo and Rebecca stepped out into the hallway, and the big bear pressed the elevator’s ‘down’ button. When the elevator door opened, Baloo made a sweeping bow, saying, “After you, milady.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, smiling as she walked past him into the car. From inside the elevator, she waved and said goodbye to the cubs standing in the apartment doorway.

“Bye, Mommy. Bye, Daddy,” Molly said cheerfully as the elevator door closed.

“She called me Daddy,” Baloo murmured incredulously. He stared, shocked, at the silver door in front of him.

“I know,” Rebecca said softly, linking her arm through his. Then, with a shake of her head, she self-consciously withdrew her arm and rifled through her purse, pretending to look for something.

When the elevator opened at ground level, they stepped out into the soft summer night.

“Well,” Baloo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Catch ya later, Beckers.”

Rebecca smirked. “Have fun with Sally.”

Baloo groaned, then took off in the opposite direction.

Savoir Faire Restaurant

The Savoir Faire, a swank, five-star restaurant where the elite dined, was situated at the top of Clocktower Building in downtown Cape Suzette. In the background, barely heard over the hum of polite conversation and the clink of silverware, was the tinkling of the grand piano. Waiters, bustling around in immaculate white uniforms, served exotic and not-so-exotic delicacies with unerring precision. Overlooking it all was the hippo maître-d’, who stood behind a small podium at the entrance.

At the far end of the room from the entrance was Baloo and Broadcast Sally, a portly hippo dressed in a vivid green sequined gown.

“You simply must try my squid au gratin, Baloo,” Sally, the velvety-voiced announcer for K-CAPE radio, purred.

“No, thanks, Sally,” Baloo chuckled nervously. “I’ll just stick with steak.” He was sitting as far from the table as he could to avoid Sally’s unwelcome advances.

“Oh, man,” he groaned. Rebecca had just entered on the arm of a tall, middle-aged svelte lion impeccably dressed in an

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