A Hiccup in the Plan

TaleSpinand its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

As always, a big thank you goes to Gidget for her wonderful suggestions. And a special thanks goes out to Aubrey, who came up with the idea of Kit having hiccups. This is for you, Aubrey. :o)

Cape Suzette Elementary
April 1937
Friday
2:55 PM

Twenty sixth-grade students impatiently squirmed in their seats and cast longing glances out the windows at the beautiful spring day as the minute hand slowly inched its way towards three o’clock and freedom from the shackles of school.

Unfortunately, their teacher, Mrs. Morrissey, wanted to fill every single second of that last five interminable minutes with class work. She peered through her spectacles at the wall clock and announced, “We have just enough time for one more presentation.”

Like many of his fellow classmates, Kit Cloudkicker stared at the point of his pencil and thought to himself, Not me, not me, not me, not me. He knew that if he made eye contact with the teacher, he was done for.

“The next person will be...” she ran her eyes over the class roster, “Kit.”

With an inward groan, Kit rose from his seat and gathered his papers with trembling hands. He slowly walked to the front of the classroom and tentatively peeked over his papers into the sea of faces. They were familiar faces, faces of his friends and classmates, but all of those eyes staring at him made a million butterflies to flutter in his stomach. At that moment, he’d rather have dealt with the whole Iron Vulture full of pirates than have all those eyes focused on him.

“Whenever you’re ready, Kit,” the grey-headed Mrs. Morrissey prompted with a kind smile.

Kit nervously cleared his throat and forced himself to read his essay. “The Life of the Aardvark. The aardvark is...hic!” Embarrassed, his hand flew to his mouth and his face turned a flaming crimson.

An amused titter traveled across the classroom.

Calmly, Mrs. Morrissey said, “Quiet, class. Continue, please, Kit.”

Kit gulped, took a deep breath, and began again. “The aard...hic!”

His classmates laughed again, louder this time. Even Mrs. Morrissey hid a smile behind her hand.

C’mon, Cloudkicker, you can do it, Kit thought. He opened his mouth and...

Riiiiiiiiiiiing!

The school bell rang shrilly, denoting the end of the school day, much to Kit’s relief.

“We’ll finish the presentations on Monday, starting with you, Kit,” the teacher said.

Kit nodded and clamped his mouth shut, but try as he might, the hiccups wouldn’t be suppressed. Hic!

“Class dismissed.”

The children sprang from their chairs, gathered up their books, and hurried into the crowded and noisy hallway. A few minutes later, they joined the other children pouring out of the double doors into the bright sunshine.

Among them were the few, the proud, the Jungle Aces, a club devoted to airplanes and high adventure.

“You guys can all go to the matinee tomorrow, right?” Ernie, the official president of the club, asked as the small group of boys traversed the sidewalk.

Everyone except Kit answered in the affirmative.

“What about you, Kit?” Ernie shot over his shoulder. “Cat got your tongue?”

As soon as Kit opened his mouth a hic! came out.

“Hic! Hic!” a few of the other boys imitated.

“Very funny...hic!” Kit said, frowning as he shifted his backpack to his other shoulder.

“So what about the movie?” Ernie persisted.

“I can’t go to the hic! mo...hic! movie, because me and Baloo have a cargo run,” Kit replied. “Jeepers! Lousy hic, hic, hiccups.”

“What about the malt shop?” rabbit Sam asked as he bounced along beside Kit. “We’re going there now.”

Kit shrugged. “Sorry, guys, but...hic!”

“You got a cargo run,” Ernie concluded sarcastically.

The boys complained collectively.

“What a gyp!” hippo Felix exclaimed.

Burt, the crane, added, “What’s the good of you being in this club if you’re never around?”

“Youalways have to work!” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not hic! work to me,” Kit said with a smile.

“Doesn’t Baloo believe in having fun?” Ernie said.

Kit’s laugh was curtailed by a hiccup. “That’s about all he believes in. That hic! and flying.”

“I wish I could go with you,” Oscar, the smallest, youngest boy of the club, said wistfully.

Kit clapped Oscar on the shoulder. “Maybe next time. Hic!”

“Well, see ya around, Kit, if you’re ever around,” Ernie said jeeringly.

“Hic!Bye.” Kit regretfully watched his friends as they made their way, laughing and joking, towards downtown and the malt shop. He would have liked to joined them, but duty and the open sky called. Turning, he directed his steps towards the docks. His regret melted away as his pace accelerated.

As the residential area turned to warehouses, the smell of the briny sea air became stronger. When he rounded the corner of a plain brown building jutting out onto the docks, its lighthouse-type structure reaching towards the azure sky, the sparkling blue harbor came into view as well as a yellow Conwing L-16 known as the Sea Duck. He was home.

Kit bounded into Higher for Hire’s office, tossed his backpack in a corner and greeted the petite brown bearess behind the desk with a cheerful, “Hi, Miz Cunningham. Hic!” He swiftly covered his mouth.

Rebecca, looking up from her ledger, didn’t seem to notice the hiccuping. “How was school? Did you read your essay?” she asked her young navigator with a smile.

Shaking his head, he replied, “Not all of it. Hic! These stupid hic!hiccups got in the hic! way and hic! everyone laughed at me. Hic!”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Try drinking some water, and don’t worry about them, Kit. Everyone gets the hiccups.”

Dolefully, Kit said, “Yeah, hic! I know, but not everyone gets themhic! when they’re reading an hic! essay.” He entered the kitchen where Baloo and Molly were munching on macaroons and intently watching the door for Rebecca’s arrival. They both relaxed when they saw Kit.

“Whew! Thought you were Becky,” Baloo said, reaching into the cookie jar.

Kit got a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water from the tap, and gulped it down. He waited a few seconds, then...hic! “Jeepers,” he muttered in disappointment.

Molly snuck up behind him, tapped him on the back, and yelled, “Boo!” causing Kit to drop the glass on the rug.

Hic!

“That always works for me,” the little girl mumbled, regaining her seat at the table.

“Try holdin’ your breath, kiddo,” Baloo suggested as a truck rumbled to a stop on the cobblestones outside.

Kit took a deep breath and held it, his cheeks puffed out comically. Finally, he couldn’t hold it any longer, so he expelled it with awhoosh! He waited a few seconds. Hic! “Aw...”

“Baloo!” Rebecca said, stepping into the kitchen.

With a cry of surprise, Baloo quickly hid the cookie jar under the table.

“The Eezee-Squeezee Orange Squeezers are here. Are you guys eating cookies again?” Rebecca said, peering suspiciously at Baloo’s and Molly’s crumb-ringed mouths and guilty faces. Bending over, she looked under the table. “Ah-ha!” She seized the cookie jar from Baloo’s hands.

With a spray of cookie crumbs, Baloo said, “Gee, how did that get there?”

“Go,” Rebecca ordered as Baloo and Kit sidled past her. “And don’t be late. The Mandarins need those orange squeezers for tomorrow’s Orange Festival.”

Kit followed Baloo outside, hiccuping periodically.

The Sea Duck

Fifteen minutes later, the orange squeezers were loaded and the seaplane was soaring through the gap in the massive cliffs surrounding Cape Suzette, its powerful twin Superflight 100 engines humming.

“What’s our course, navigator?” Baloo asked.

Kit, with a map spread out on his lap, sextant and compass in hand, answered, “Two hundred sixty-five degrees hic!”

“Hic? What direction is that?” Baloo joked. “North? South? In between?”

“Real fun...hic! funny, Papa Bear. Stupid hiccups.”

“Aw, they’ll go away, unless you’re like Hiccup Herb, the guy who hiccuped for thirty years straight. Far as I know, he’s still hiccupin’.”

“Oh, great! Hic!”

“Don’t sweat it, Li’l Britches,” Baloo said, clapping Kit on the shoulder. “Just think of all the fun we’ll get to have at the Orange Festival.”

Isle of Mandarin

The Isle of Mandarin, an almost perfectly round island in the Pacific Ocean, resembled its chief export - oranges. Except for the small village located on the eastern coast, the tropical island was completely covered with orange trees, all of which were now bearing their juicy, mouth-watering fruit.

The Mandarin natives were as of this moment gearing up for their famous annual Orange Festival, which drew visitors from all over the world. For a few short days, the tiny, out-of-the-way Isle of Mandarin would become a bustling center of attraction.

While the natives unloaded the crates of orange squeezers, Baloo and Kit walked out the back hatch.

Baloo took a deep breath of the heady citrus-y air. “Ah...just smell them oranges.”

Hic!

Baloo grinned at Kit and tousled his hair through his baseball cap. “How ‘bout we take a little look-see around?”

Kit nodded, clamping his lips together. Despite his efforts, a half-strangulated hic! escaped sighed with exasperation.

“Whatcha want, Li’l Britches?” Baloo asked, looking up and down the street that was lined with booths. “They got fresh-squeezed orange juice, Orange Juliet, pirates stealing oranges, orange sherbert, chocolate-covered orange on a stick...”

“Pirates stealing oranges?” they exclaimed simultaneously.

Indeed, Mad Dog and Dumptruck were removing crates of oranges from a tent at the end of the street and loading them onto a mule-drawn cart.

“Shh!” Baloo

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