cart.

“Shh!” Baloo warned, putting a finger to his lips as he snuck closer.

Kit nodded with a hic! as they hid behind a booth and peeked around it at the piratical proceedings.

Mad Dog, doubled over, slowly shuffled along as he lugged a crate from the tent to the cart. Dumptruck took it from him and easily set it, along with the other three crates he was carrying, onto the cart. “Tell me, Mad Dog. Vhy does der captain vant all dese oranges for? Vitamin C?”

“No,” Mad Dog panted. His back cracked as he straightened up. “He’s going to sell them to the Mandarins.”

Dumptruck scratched his head with a meaty finger. “But don’t dey already have oranges?”

“Not if we steal them all. They need these for their Orange Festival. No oranges, no festival. No festival, no money.”

“Oh.”

“Ow!” Mad Dog cried, sucking on his forefinger. “This is not helping my hangnail.”

“Leavehic! it to Karnage to think of that plan. Hic!” Kit murmured.

Baloo’s eyes flitted from the pirates to the festival. “Oh, baby,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Gettin’ me an idea.”

Five minutes later, Baloo strolled over to the pirates. He was wearing a bright orange apron that he had borrowed from a vendor. He planted himself right in front of the tent and juggled three croquet balls painted to resemble oranges.

“Move it!” Mad Dog whined. “We want the oranges.”

“You say you want the oranges?” Baloo asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, ve vant der oranges.”

“Okay, you got ‘em.” Pulling more croquet balls from the apron, Baloo lobbed the balls at the pirates.

“Ow!” Mad Dog shouted as he was hit on the nose.

“Nyah-nyah, you missed me.” When a croquet ball smacked Dumptruck in the head, the hulking pirate grabbed Baloo by the throat, growling, “Dat vasn’t very nice.”

He punched Baloo, who crumpled to the ground. Then he turned to see the wagon take off with Kit at the reins.

“He’s stealing our stolen stash!” Mad Dog said. His voice was muffled due to the hand he held over his aching nose.

“Get him!”

The pirates chased the cart through the festival.

“Oh, my hic! gosh! How do you hic! steer this hic!thing?” Kit exclaimed, holding onto the reins for dear life. The cart rumbled through the booth-lined street; a few oranges spilled out of its back. “Whoa, mu...hic! mule! Gang way!” he shouted, waving to a pedestrian crossing the street. “Coming through! Hic!”

A man wearing an orange costume and carrying a bunch of orange balloons dove out of the way. He landed on a few of his balloons, causing them to pop.

Frightened by the popping noise, the mule veered to the right, causing the cart to crash into a booth. Two native children quickly grabbed hold of the mule to steady the frightened animal while Kit asked a vendor if he could borrow his tablecloth.

Nodding dumbly, the vendor handed him the tablecloth, which Kit draped over the cart. He then ducked under the tablecloth and waited, holding his breath.

“Vere’s dat little twirp?” Dumptruck muttered as he and Mad Dog walked by the hidden cart.

Kit covered his mouth in an attempt to suppress the hiccup that he felt rising in his throat, but finally, he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Hic!

Mad Dog spun around at the sound. Hearing another soft hic!,he pointed to the tablecloth.

Dumptruck nodded, an evil grin on his face.

Both pirates took hold of cloth and yanked.

“Aaah!” they screamed as an avalanche of oranges crashed down on them.

Poking his head out from under the mound of oranges, Mad Dog said, “If I never see another orange again, it’ll be too soon.” An orange rolled down the mountain of fruit and bonked him on the head. “Ow!”

Head spinning, Dumptruck spit out two oranges. “Ditto.”

A group of people rushed to the scene.

Baloo, sporting a black eye, lifted Kit down from the cart. “Y’okay, Li’l Britches?”

“Yeah,” the boy said as he dusted himself off. “But that ride sure made the roller coaster seem tame.”

The mayor, dressed in an orange costume, pushed his through the crowd. “What’s going on here?”

“These pirates were stealing your oranges,” Kit explained, pointing to the mound of oranges.

Seeing no one, the mayor said in confusion, “What pirates?”

Everyone looked up as two CT-37s flew overhead.

“Uh, those,” Baloo said sheepishly.

The mayor grinned and pumped Baloo’s and Kit’s hands. “To show our thanks, come, have an Orange Juliet on the house.”

“Gee, thanks!” Kit exclaimed.

“Lead the way.” Baloo draped an arm around Kit’s shoulders. “Hey, you got rid of the hiccups.”

“Yeah, I guess I did." He took a deep, hiccup-free breath.

“Orangeya glad they’re gone?”

Kit laughed at the pun. “Yeah, Papa Bear.”

The End

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