Two More for the Road
part 2

Aunties' House

As soon as Baloo, Louie, and Natalia rounded the corner, Ivanna said in a decidedly male voice, "Quick, Dunder, we have to leave before that girl gets back."

"But, Agent Spigot, sir, shouldn't we at least let the old ladies free first?" Dunder opened a closet door, revealing two elderly women, who were bound, gagged, and blindfolded. "You remember what Agent C taught us in spy training."

"Of course I remember what Agent C taught us in spy training!" Spigot snapped. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"How many kinds are there, sir?" Dunder wondered.

Annoyed, Spigot cleared his throat and recited, "Rule number one was never tell anyone you're a spy."

"Right, but rule number two was to leave no trace."

"Hmm...maybe we should blow the house up. Luckily for us, I'm prepared for all situations. I have some dynamite stashed in my snood."

Dunder shook his head. "It didn't work when you blew up that shed last week in Tiny Tundra. Agent C threatened to either have you shot or transferred to the military - whichever was easiest."

Flashing an embarrassed glance at the old women, Spigot whispered, "I told you never to mention that again! It's top, top secret! Very hush-hush." He pulled his government-issued pocketknife from his girdle. However, it was just an empty shell; it didn't have any blades. "Hmpf! Must be left over from the last metal shortage." Disgusted, he tossed the knife at Dunder. "Don't just stand there, you ninny! Use your teeth!"

"Yes, Agent Spigot, sir." Dunder obediently dropped to his knees and started working at the rope knots with his teeth.

When the women were free, Spigot warned, "If you say anything about this to anyone, especially that girl, you will be sent to the firing squad, then have your spleens ripped out."

"Right. Mum's the word." Leaning down, Dunder murmured, "By the way, can I have your cookie recipe? They were really delicious."

"Dunder!" Spigot shouted from the doorway.

"Coming, Agent Spigot, sir."

After Spigot and Dunder left, one old woman said to the other, "That's the third time this month, Letty. Maybe we should move."

Letty nodded wearily.

Meanwhile, the two ugly 'women' were hurrying through the nearly deserted streets. They stopped before a house that looked like any other house in Mustgo. After conspicuously ascertaining that no one was watching them, they ducked inside.

Spigot made his way through the bare, cold room to a door on the opposite side with Dunder right behind. Then the short warthog began rummaging around in his dress pockets. When he failed to find what he was looking for, he started to remove pieces of his disguise, grunting with irritation.

"Lose your key again, sir?" Dunder inquired.

"No, I did not lose it! I just can't remember where I put it, that's all," Spigot said, searching in the lining of his wig.

"I have mine."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"You didn't ask," Dunder said simply.

"Give me that!" Spigot swiped the key from his counterpart and inserted it into the lock, causing two doors to slide open.

They stepped into the elevator. Spigot, stretching as far as his short stature would allow, attempted to punch the 'down' button, but couldn't reach it. "Dunder!"

"Sorry." Dunder lifted Spigot so that he could press the button, then put him back down, asking, "Tell me again, Agent Spigot, sir, why are the Uslandians stealing the safe instead of us?"

"Because they are Uslandians. If the safe is stolen by them, the Shropshearians will blame them, not Thembria. If we're lucky, it'll even mean war between the two countries."

"Oh." Dunder's brow creased in confusion. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes, you dodo-brain!" Spigot whacked the taller warthog with his wig. "Of course, we were planning on war between Singamore and Shropshear, but this will be better. Usland, the soft white underbelly of the western world, won't know what hit them." He chortled with glee.

Just then, the elevator door opened with a ding, and they stepped out and walked through another bare room to another door. On the reinforced metal door was a gold plaque that read: M.U.M, which stood for Ministry Under Mustgo. Standing in front of the door was a hulking armed guard, who seemed to fill the entire room.

"Password," the guard grunted, peering suspiciously down at them.

"Mellow greetings, joogie doogie," Spigot said impatiently. "Now let us in!"

"Wrong," the guard growled.

"Wrong? What do you mean 'wrong'?"

"That was yesterday's, sir. Today, it's..." Dunder whispered in Spigot's ear.

"I have to say that? Who makes up these passwords?"

"I do," the unsmiling guard answered.

"And a wonderful password it is, too." Spigot flashed an uncomfortable look at the guard. "Can't you say it for us, Dunder?"

Dunder shook his head. "We both have to say it, or they won't let us in."

"Okay." Clearing his throat, Spigot started to sing off-key, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout."

Dunder joined in, doing the actions. "This is my handle. This is my spout."

The guard sang lustily along with them, also performing the actions. "When I get all steamed up, hear me shout, 'Tip me over and pour me out'."

"That song always cracks me up," the guard said with a straight face. "Okay, you may pass." Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the door behind him.

When the two agents had entered, the heavy metal door shut behind them with a reverberating clang.

Spigot, with Dunder following faithfully, walked down a long corridor. To either side were numerous doors. The windows in the doors allowed glimpses of a shooting range, camouflage training, the inventing rooms, the radio room, and a room so top-secret that even they didn't know what went on in there.

Their destination was at the end of the hall. Spigot rapped on the door before barging in. They found themselves in a room lined with filing cabinets, all locked and all labeled 'top-secret'. Also in this room was a large metal desk. Seated behind the desk was Agent C, the stocky, stern-faced leader of M.U.M. Standing beside him, pencil and pad in hand, was his scrawny assistant.

"Who's that?" Agent C asked of his assistant as he slammed a hand over the top-secret paper on his desk.

"Two of your agents - Spigot and Dunder," the assistant murmured quietly.

Dunder stood just inside the door at attention. Spigot balanced on tiptoe, straining to peek over the desk.

Agent C shook his head and sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Haven't I had them shot?"

"Not yet."

"What is it this time, Drainpipe?" Agent C asked gruffly.

"Spigot, Your Spyfulness. Spigot."

"Are you contradicting your superior?"

"Oh, no, sir! We're here to report the successful completion of our mission, sir," he said proudly while Dunder nodded stiffly.

"First time for everything," Agent C murmured insolently.

Spigot, rocking on his feet, tittered nervously, "Yes, sir."

Agent C wiped spit from his desk. Taking a key from his uniform pocket, he swivelled in his chair, unlocked the filing cabinet behind him, and started pulling out file after file full of papers. A moment later, he handed a stack of papers to Spigot and Dunder with a curt, "Here."

"What's this?" Spigot gasped, his knees buckling under the weight of the pile.

"Standard Successful-Completion-of-Mission forms," the assistant replied.

Spigot gushed, "Oh, thank you, Agent C! It's such an honor. We'll get these filled out promptly and efficiently. We won't let you down. We promise."

"Go, Nozzle. Or you will be shot."

"We're going. We're going." Spigot backed out of the room, bowing repeatedly. Dunder picked up the stray papers that he dropped.

In the hall, Spigot said, "Isn't this exciting, Dunder? Official official forms for us to fill out."

"Yes, sir. Lots of forms."

"Here, take these."

"Of course, sir," Dunder said, adding Spigot's papers to his own stack.

"It'll probably take us all day. I didn't know spy work could be so thrilling." Elated, he hurried down the hall. Dunder, occasionally peeking around the unwieldy stack of papers, tried to keep up as best he could.

The Sea Duck
On the Road to Shropshear

Baloo, reclining in the pilot's seat, said, "Yup. There's nuthin' better than helpin' a gal in trouble."

"Unless it's helpin' a pretty gal in trouble," Louie said with a grin from the co-pilot's seat.

"Forget it, Swami. Natalia's a one-bear gal."

"An' she's taken all the bear she can bear. It's time she moved up in the world." Louie removed his turban and slicked back his thick red hair.

"You mean down, shorty." Baloo patted his head condescendingly.

"Shows how much you know. I'm the Amazing Louie."

"Don't see anythin' amazing about you." Before Louie could utter a snide comeback, he said, "Comin' in for a landing."

The Sea Duck descended upon Shropshear, a peaceful, pastoral country. The small village of Clipping was nestled between gently rolling green hills dotted with fluffy white sheep. Baloo landed the seaplane in a field bordering the town, causing bleating sheep to scatter in every direction.

When they alighted from the plane, a man - border collie in species - stared at them as he clip-clopped by in his horse-drawn wagon. That man wasn't the only one who stared at the strangers. As they traversed one of the town's four streets, curious eyes appeared at every window and door.

"Who would guess that anyone in this one-horse town would steal Natty's jewels? How would they know about 'em?" Baloo asked, taking in the thatched-roofed houses that looked like they had been built decades before.

"I dunno," Louie replied as they neared the outskirts of the village. "I do know that we gotta keep our eyes peeled for the Dyed in the Wool Yarn Factory."

Baloo abruptly halted in his tracks. "Louie, my man, I think we found it."

"Well, pluck my face."

They gazed open-mouthed at a huge, dome-shaped factory, the roof of which was grass-covered. From the air, it would appear to be just another hill. But this 'hill' was a little unusual. Fluffy sheep traveled up to the second story on an inclined conveyer belt on the north side of the factory. On the south side, pink-skinned sheared sheep exited the building, riding down the conveyer belt, which ran into a fenced-in pasture. The air was filled with their frightened bleating.

"Now what, cuz?" Louie asked over the din.

Baloo shrugged. "We get in, get the safe, an' get out."

"Let's do it, man." Louie took a step, then stopped. "Uh, how?"

"With a brilliant plan." Baloo grinned, tapping his temple.

Louie hooted with derision.

"Hey, this plan is foolproof."

"Then the fool should try it out. I'll get in my own way."

"Suit yourself," Baloo said with a shrug.

"Let's make a bet, fuzzy. First one to get the jewels gets Natalia."

"Deal." They shook on it and took off in opposite directions.

"Good luck!" Baloo called over his shoulder.

"An' you're gonna need it!"

A few minutes later, Baloo, in a blonde wig and pink Swiss-dotted muslin dress, knocked on the front door of the factory with his shepherd's crook.

The door was opened by the guard. The elderly border collie squinted up at Baloo, then removed a pair of spectacles from his mustard-colored uniform. Putting them to his eyes, he wheezed in a broad Shropshearian accent, "Aye? What can I do fer ya, lassie?"

"Oh, woe is me!" Baloo wailed in a falsetto voice. "I am Little Bo Peep, and I have lost my sheep. Can you help me find them?"

Just then, Louie arrived, attired in the same costume. "I am Little Bo Peep, an' those are my sheep that are lost."

"Imposter!" Baloo said angrily.

"Who are you callin' imposter, baldy?" Louie hooked Baloo's wig with his shepherd's crook.

While the two 'Little Bo Peeps' squabbled over possession of the lost sheep, the guard closed the door. Hearing it bang shut, they stopped fighting and looked with defeat and disappointment at the door.

"Now what?" Louie asked, letting go of a fistful of Baloo's fur.

"Plan B," Baloo said, setting Louie down. He picked up his wig from the ground and plopped it on his head crookedly, impatiently brushing one long blonde braid over his shoulder.

"Plan B?" Louie asked, dragging his shepherd's crook in the dirt as they trekked back through the village towards the Sea Duck.

"B for Baloo," the pilot said proudly, jerking his thumb at his chest.

Under his breath, Louie muttered, "B for big bozo, ya mean."

Baloo bristled with indignation. "Who you callin' bozo, chimp?"

"Who're you callin' chimp, chump?" Louie said heatedly, his face turning as pink as his dress.

All the way back to the seaplane, their argument echoed and re-echoed through the emerald green hills.

An Hour Later

Baloo and Louie were on the factory's grassy roof. Shovelfuls of dirt flew in their wake as they tunneled through the turf.

"As soon...toss...as we break...toss...through this sod...toss...we'll...toss...just swing ourselves down...toss...get...toss...the goods...toss...an' go," Baloo said, rhythmically throwing dirt over his shoulder between words.

"Dish the dirt faster, cuz. The natives are gettin' too friendly." Louie swung his shovel at the sheep flocking around them.

Baloo smirked, "You afraid of a little lamb?"

"Only without mint jelly," Louie replied, redoubling his digging speed.

"Don't worry, my man. We'll have this done in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Clink went the shovels. They had hit the hard, metallic roof that was buried under the sod.

"Uh-oh," Baloo murmured.

"What now, smarty?"

"Take it on the lam!" Baloo shouted. He tossed his shovel aside and took off down the hill.

"Now what kind of cockamamie plan is that?" Turning, Louie saw the factory guard accompanied by a posse of shepherds armed with pitchforks. "A good one." Like Baloo, he threw down his shovel and ran.

Catching up with the big bear, Louie gasped, "I don't suppose you got a plan?"

"I got us into this. You get us out. What a team! What a plan!"

"But the safe's back that way!" Louie puffed, running as fast as his short legs and long arms would allow.

"We'll worry about the safe after we're safe!"

Putting on a burst of speed which allowed them to elude their angry pursuers, the duo ran through the field, back to the Sea Duck.

That Night

A faraway owl's mournful 'whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo' was echoed by a sleepy 'baaaa' when two shadowy figures cautiously crept through the chilly, foggy night up to the factory.

"This time, my plan can't fail," Baloo whispered, peering through the fog to make sure no one was around.

"Optimist," Louie said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I knew all we had to do was wait until dark, then sneak in," he said, slipping his fingers between the window frame and windowsill.

"So, get us in, already."

"Can't," Baloo puffed, struggling to raise the window. "It's stuck but good."

"Heh. Wimp."

"All right, fortune-teller," Baloo growled. "Let's see you work your magic."

Louie pushed the pilot aside and spat on his palms. "Never send a bear to do an ape's job." After straining against the stubborn window for a few minutes, he said, "I hate to say it, cuz, but it looks like we gotta work together."

With a collective grunt of exertion, they pushed the window up with a creak. They stood stock-still, peering through the fog for a moment, afraid that someone might have heard them.

When no one came, Louie crawled through the window. He motioned to Baloo to follow. They found themselves in a dark, silent, cavernous room filled with carding, spinning, and weaving machines, which looked like large, metallic monsters. Far above them stretched the conveyer system that sheep filed through during the day to be washed, dried, and sheared. Stray strands of wool stuck between the floorboards tickled their feet while their noses were tickled by the pungent odor of clean sheep.

"Man, where are the bleachers...mmmph!" Baloo's question was curtailed by having a hand clamped over his mouth.

"Make with the shh!" Louie pointed to where a flashlight beam was dancing over the machinery.

Ducking behind a loom, they held their breaths as a tall, young guard in a mustard-colored uniform clomped past them, waving his flashlight all around.

Baloo waited until the guard had crossed to the other side of the room before daring to whisper, "Where did Natty's aunties say the safe was?"

Louie shrugged. "Accordin' to my recollection...I don't recollect. I thought you were the detail man."

"I thought you were. Anyhoo, findin' a safe in this place'll be tougher'n findin' a needle in a haystack."

"Mighty big haystack," Louie agreed, his gaze roving around the room. Then he spotted a door behind them adorned with two gold nameplates: Dr. Dalton and Dr. Angus. He tapped Baloo on the shoulder and pointed to the door. "Let's try the next haystack over."

Baloo nodded.

Once inside, they strained their eyes to see through the darkness. They were in a small room mostly occupied by two long benches strewn with scraps of fabric, Bunsen burners, notebooks, beakers, and smelly chemicals.

They dropped to the floor when the guard's flashlight shone through the door's window. Both breathed a sigh of relief when the flashlight beam moved on.

"Man, that was too close," Louie murmured, swiping a hand across his sweaty brow.

"See a safe?" Baloo whispered, crawling between the closely-spaced benches to the back of the room.

Louie impatiently swatted at the bear's foot. "I can't see nothin' with your size 14s in my way!"

Clang!

"Yeowch!" Baloo yelped, rubbing his sore pate. "Think I found it."

"That's usin' your head," Louie laughed.

With fumbling fingers, Baloo pulled a book of matches from his pocket and lit one. By the light of the fleeting, flickering flame, he could see that the cast iron safe was a cube, roughly fifteen inches by fifteen inches. It was black and fitted with a silver-knobbed combination lock.

"Can you crack it?" Louie whispered, getting a good look at the safe over Baloo's shoulder just before the match burnt out.

"Hey, I'm a pilot, not a safecracker."

"My, oh, me, wish we had some TNT." Louie cringed when the flashlight passed by the window again. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Sure it just ain't you?" Baloo retorted.

"Every second we stay here is another second we could get sacked. Let's make like a nose and blow."

"Without Natty's safe?" Baloo said, astonished.

"No, with Natty's safe."

"Oh, sure," Baloo said sarcastically. "An' how's it gonna get outta here? Sprout wings an' fly?"

"You gotta be hidin' some muscle under all that flab," Louie said, squeezing the pilot's biceps.

Baloo gulped. "Carry it?"

"Think of Natalia. Think of how much she'll thank you."

Baloo was silent for a while, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Well?"

"I'm thinkin' about it."

"Stop thinkin' an' start liftin'. The sooner we skedaddle, the safer I'll feel."

"Okay." Baloo got to his feet Lifting it, he groaned, "Where's a dolly when ya need one?" He teetered for a moment while he regained his balance. The small safe wasn't as backbreaking as loading and unloading thirty crates of Anvilanian anvils, but, as it had no good handholds, it was just as awkward to tote. "How come you ain't helpin' me with this doggone thing?"

"I am helpin'. Someone's gotta open the doors for ya," Louie said blithely, strolling unconcernedly to the door.

Baloo staggered behind him, saying wryly, "Thanks a heap, pal."

"Don't mention it, my good man." Louie opened the door a crack and peered out. Seeing no guard, he threw it wide open. "C'mon. We're home safe now."

Then a bright light shone in their faces, blinding them.

"Think again," Baloo muttered.

"Hold it right there!" the guard commanded.

"No, you hold it!" Baloo lobbed the safe at guard, knocking him over with a pained, "Oof!"

Baloo scooped up the safe and ran as best he could. Not only was the safe slipping through his fingers with every jouncing step, he couldn't see Louie bumbling through the rows of machinery.

A moment later, the dazed guard staggered to his feet. He reeled for a moment and was forced to lean against a pile of sacks containing newly-sheared wool to steady himself. When his head stopped spinning, he grabbed his pistol from its holster and aimed it towards the pattering of two pairs of not-so-little feet. "Stop, or I'll shoot!" To prove his point, he fired a shot.

"Step on it, cuz!" Louie said as he and a panting Baloo zigzagged around machinery towards the front door.

"Easy for you to say! You ain't luggin' a two ton doorstop," Baloo puffed.

"Good thing, too. I can only handle pain until it hurts."

"All right, pain, can we stop a sec?" Baloo said, putting the safe on the floor. "I'm hurtin'."

"But we're almost outta here," Louie hissed impatiently. He pointed to their point of entry - the open window - which was only two rows of machines away.

"I gotta get me a better grip on this thing before I drop it on my tootsies." Inhaling sharply, Baloo picked up the safe...and promptly lost his balance due to its weight. With a "Whoa-ho-ho!" he backpedaled towards the wall, hitting two switches in the process.

Suddenly, the lights came on and the machines sprang to life with clacking, thudding, bumping and whirring.

"Now look what you did," Louie said accusingly.

"Me?"

"Stop, you!" The guard ran towards them, gun in hand.

The bad news was that the guard was between them and the open window. The good news was that he was a clutz. He tripped over his own shoelace and fell headlong into a loom, becoming woven into the plaid cloth as the shuttle flew back and forth. Flailing his arms and legs wildly, he shouted, "Heeeeelp!"

"Time to weave," Baloo joked.

But when they reached the front door, they saw a swarm of villagers approaching, torches in hand. They were armed with everything from pitchforks to frying pans to rifles.

"I don't think that's the welcoming committee," Baloo said apprehensively.

Louie slammed the door shut. "Only one way to go - up." He bounded over to a ladder and quickly scaled it.

"Hey, I'm a bear, not a mountain goat."

"Do you wanna be a dead duck? 'Cause those folks are gonna make a big squawk about us stealin' this stolen safe."

"Now that ya mention it...no." Tucking the safe under one arm, Baloo stepped on the first rung of the ladder. It creaked under his weight. Wobbling slightly, he climbed the ladder one rung at a time, wincing with each creak.

"Ian! Ian! Who was doing all that shooting?" one woman asked hysterically as Ian, the guard, was extracted from the loom.

Before the guard could answer, a man shouted, "There they are!"

Instantly, all eyes were on Baloo, who was in the process of handing the safe to Louie.

"Uh-oh!" Louie murmured.

"Get them!" With a burst of incoherent shouting, the angry mob ran towards the back of the factory where the ladder was.

"Here we go again," Baloo exclaimed, setting the safe on the ledge upon which the conveyer belt system ran. He then scrambled up the last two rungs.

To their dismay, the conveyer belt started up. To make matters worse, bullets flew around them, ricocheting off nearby metal and the safe with reverberating pings.

"Great. Now we're movin' targets," Baloo groaned. He was struggling to simultaneously run, keep his balance, and regain hold of the heavy safe before it moved too far down the conveyer belt line. Luckily, he was able to scoop up the safe before it was sucked into the wash/dry/shearing machine.

Louie, who was behind Baloo, pushed the bear forward as he ran against the conveyer's current. If only they could reach the door where the sheep entered, they could escape. "Move it or lose it!"

"I am losin' it!" Baloo could feel the safe slipping from his sweaty hands with every bouncing step. Then, he completely lost his balance when a Shropshearian, who had climbed the ladder, grabbed at his leg.

Baloo belly-flopped onto the conveyer belt with an "Oof!" In the process, he lost his grip on the safe, which went flying through the air.

"Pop fly to the short stop!" Louie made a frantic dive over Baloo and caught the safe before it could disappear completely over the ledge. He hung onto the ledge with his toes.

"I gotcha!" Baloo said, hauling both Louie and the safe up.

"That was a close shave," Louie said with a sigh of relief.

"Speakin' of close shaves..." Baloo said, gesturing towards the complicated-looking machines that the conveyer belt was propelling them towards.

"Aaaaaahhh!"

Their screams could be heard as they sailed through the automatic sheep washer, dryer, and shearer.

They didn't stop screaming until they found themselves outside in the cool, foggy night, riding down the conveyer belt to the ground below. Despite the fact that tufts of fur were missing and their clothes were chewed up, they were relatively unscathed.

"Hey, we made it, an' with the safe." Baloo grinned, patting the prized item. "Natty'll be so happy."

"Don't break an arm pattin' yourself on the back. We ain't out of this yet."

As if to prove his point, one of the villagers shouted, "There's the mangy thieves! In that pasture!"

"Aw, man! This is too much like work!" Baloo groaned, once more picking up the safe.

With the angry mob chasing them, they sprinted down the dark, muddy street of Clipping to the Sea Duck. Once inside the seaplane's cockpit, Baloo made one of the hastiest takeoffs possible despite the lack of visibility.

When they were flying at ten thousand feet, above the fog, Baloo said cheerfully, "Goodbye, Shropshear. Thembria, here we come. I anticipate Orange Fizzies, flashbulbs, an', with any luck, local beauties panting after my highly-trained pilot's body."

"In your dreams," Louie scoffed. "Natalia'll be warm for my form."

"What there is of it, shorty."

"Who're you callin' shorty, fatty?"

"I ain't fat. I'm big-boned."

"Yeah," Louie laughed. "A big bonehead."

"That ain't what I meant," Baloo growled, tightening his grip on the control yoke.

"Sure sounded like it from here, cuz," Louie said airily.

"You need to get the wax outta your ears - if ya got any ears." Rubbing the back of his neck and staring straight ahead, Baloo said quietly, "Uh, thanks, man, for helpin' me. I couldn't have pulled off that stunt without you."

Louie beamed at the bear. "I'm touched. Matter of fact, I'm bruised." His rueful laugh faded into solemnity. "But seriously, Baloo, you're a pal." He added swiftly, "Not mine, but somebody's."

"Wonder what's in that safe that's got everybody all fired up?" Baloo mused, running his eyes over the gauges.

He didn't have to wonder long, because the crate that the safe was sitting on collapsed under its weight, causing the safe to crash to the deck with a bang! By the force of the impact, the door flew open, spilling its contents.

End of part 2