PART FIVE

The next morning Roo woke up very early. He made coffee for his parents so they would wake up sooner. He let himself into their bedroom while they were still sleeping, holding a tray of coffee.

"Rise and shine," Roo bellowed and through open the drapes. "Someone's got to get to Frankenmuth."

"Roo it's fucking five in the morning," Geoff growled. "Are you nuts?"

"Geoffrey don't say fuck around Roo," Kanga grumbled and rolled over.

"It's five in the morning," Geoff retorted. "I will say fuck if I want too."

"You want to get to Frankenmuth early," said Roo. "Or else all the good stuff will be gone."

"I'm sure even if we don't get on the road until eight we'll still be able to get a decent hunk of cheese," Geoffrey replied.

"Eight!" Roo cried.

"Roo we're tired. Now go back to bed. Quit being a pain in the ass,"

Roo went to his bedchamber where he paced back and forth. Sveta could easily come in on an early morning flight and the airport was just a half hour taxi ride at most. His parents just had to be gone. Roo amused himself for the next few hours by looking up flights on the Internet. It was impossible to tell which route Sveta took to America. He didn't know which airline she'd come in on. Did she fly from Russia to Germany to Detroit? Russia to Amsterdam to Detroit? Maybe she had to take three different planes. She could have had to make an extra stop in Newark or New York. There were so many different possibilities. Finally his parents got up. Kanga started to make a nauseating breakfast of soy oatmeal with raisins.

"You guys should go out for breakfast," Roo said.

"We'll be going out for dinner," Kanga answered. "I don't like to eat too much restaurant food. They don't prepare it using organic and soy products."

At the breakfast table Geoff was reading the Detroit Free Press. On Saturday mornings Geoff liked to take his time poking around and reading the paper. Especially if there was an article about a case he was involved in.

"Dad you can read the paper later," said Roo. "Don't you want to get to Frankenmuth."

"Roo if we leave in a half hour we'd be there by nine o'clock. If we don't leave until seven or eight o'clock at night that's about ten hours of Frankenmuth. That's all of Frankenmuth I can handle."

Usually when Kanga made her lumpy, rough, almost too thick to stir, soy oatmeal Roo put up a fight that would rival Rocky and Apollo Creed's in the first Rocky. Kanga never let Roo leave the table until his plate was cleaned. Roo knew fights wasted time. Time he didn't have. Like a starving Somalian he shoveled down plentiful spoonfuls of Kanga's disgusting gruel. Kanga and Geoff watched in amazement.

"Are you my son or did you get a brain transplant?" Kanga asked as she watched Roo physically lick his bowl. Geoff glared at Roo with a repulsed look on his face and then went back to his paper.

"Geoffrey do you want some more coffee?" Kanga asked.

"No he doesn't," Roo said. "He want's to get to Frankenmuth. You two better be on the road."

"Shut up Roo," Geoff snapped. "Yes dear I would like some more coffee." He glared at his son and then drank his coffee extra slow. It wasn't until ten that Roo's parents finally piled into their Mercedes and left. Roo was about ready to bounce off the walls. Swiftly he dashed over to Tigger's apartment. He pounded on the door to tell him that his Frankenmuth plan had gotten them out of the house. But there was no answer. Tigger must have stayed the night at Pete Moss's. Even when he was hung over he would eventually answer the door if you pounded enough. Roo should have known Tigger would spend the night when he mentioned the Swedish chicks. Roo glumly walked across the backyard to the front of the house just as a taxi cab pulled up in front. Roo's heart began to beat wildly as a tall, blue eyed, Russian chick slid out of the backseat. Her hair was swept up with a big clip, her skirt was short and revealed a pair of fine and very long legs. She wore very high heels. With the heels she had to be about five feet, eleven inches. She dragged a small beat up suitcase and made her way towards Roo.

"Uh boy," she asked. "Uh little boy I am hear to see a Roo."

"Roo?" Roo said dumbly. Her accent was extremely thick, and very Russian. "There is no Roo here."

Sveta looked at a slip of paper she had been holding and frowned.

"Cab driver said this is right address." She said and she showed the paper to Roo. Roo's address stared back at him.

"This is the right address there just isn't any Roo here," said Roo.

"He must live here," Sveta mumbled. "I sent him present here. He be here."

"No," said Roo. "He not here."

"I'll go knock on the door. If he don't answer I come back later today. If he not here later today I come back tomorrow." Sveta said. Sveta dragged her suitcase up the front porch and began knocking on the door. Roo dashed down the street relieved to get away from Sveta. She was hot. Hotter than in her pictures. Even the heavy accent was hot. Seeing her in person made it too hard for him to let her down by telling her the truth. Roo ran all the way to the Thoughtful Spot. When he got there he sat down. He was out of breath from all the running and upset of meeting Sveta. She had said she would come back today or tomorrow. He had to make sure she didn't come back tomorrow. Roo wouldn't be able to throw his parents out for two days. Tomorrow was Sunday. Besides church they never went anywhere on Sundays. Geoff didn't even go to church. He was going to have to tell Sveta when she came back later that day or else he would get disowned and have to go live in foster care.

"I need someone to pose as me," Roo said. "But who? I don't know any thirty-five year old neurosurgeons. I'm going to have to find someone who can pretend for me. Age wise Rabbit probably would be the best match. He was the pretty puppet boy type like Jeff Gordon. Sveta seemed to like all that sensitive shit like The Pianist, cuddling, trips to the opera, and baking pies. Even if he had the wuss look Rabbit wasn't hopeless. Some women found wussy, nerdy, men sexy. Rabbit enjoyed gardening, cooking, watching HGTV, breeding show dogs, independent movies, cross stitched beautifully, and loved outings to Calico Corners and Michael's Crafts. Sveta probably would enjoy Rabbit and all his sensitive ways. There was just two problems with Rabbit. One was you can't have your cake and eat it too. The rumor around the wood was that Rabbit was flaming gay. Nobody knew for sure but it was reported that a popular drag queen by the name Ramuegan had been spotted leaving Rabbit's house at eight o'clock one morning, while his car sat in the driveway all night. Rabbit also had been seen at The Princess and the Penis, the Hundred-Acre-Wood's premier homosexual night club. If Rabbit was gay he would not be interested in Sveta. The other problem was that Rabbit could be a goody goody. He had gone to Christopher-Robin's parents a number of times to report his underage drinking to his parents, and told the cops about Tigger shop lifting a pack of cigarettes from the 7-11. Rabbit would definitely tell his parents about Sveta.

Owl was way too old. He probably wouldn't mind bonking Sveta, if he could still even bonk, which he probably couldn't. Owl had quite a lot of money which was something neurosurgeons had but an old and feeble Owl was probably worse than little kid Roo. Plus Owl would also probably squeal.

Tigger wouldn't tell, but he was too young, couldn't hold a job for more than two weeks, and drove a jalopy. Tigger wouldn't even have the money to take Sveta for a burger at McDonalds. Sveta was expecting Jaguars, tea at the Ritz Carlton, trips to Saks Fifth Acre, and flaming yon, not jalopies and burgers. Plus Tigger was probably hung over drunk somewhere. Eeyore wouldn't tell his parents but Eeyore was so morbidly dull, depressing, banal, and stale. Sveta had mentioned Russia being depressing in her letters. If she found Russia depressing then Eeyore would depressing enough for her to check into an asylum. Eeyore was more depressing than Russia when it was under communism. Eeyore actually liked communism. Roo decided Eeyore would be a very inappropriate choice for Sveta. Christopher-Robin again was way too young. What about Pooh?

"Pooh bear!" Roo squealed. "I'll ask Pooh. He's a little young, but with the right clothes he could look the part. He won't tell Mom and Dad. He doesn't have much money but he rooms with Shawsey Sanders and he has lots of money from his football days.

Roo ran frantically to the townhouse that Pooh lived ex star pro football runningback Shawsey Sanders. Shawsey answered the door.

"Hey Roo," Shawsey greeted. "You here to play with Pooh?"

"Actually I need Pooh's help with something," Roo said shortly. He didn't want to waste time explaining stuff. Sveta could be back any time.

"Good luck," Shawsey laughed. "I haven't been able to get that bear off of his ass all day. Since ten this morning he has been parked on my sofa, in my home theater, watching stupid movies on Lifetime."

"Well I need him," Roo replied.

"You can come in and try to pry him away from the TV set," said Shawsey. "But good luck."

At first Roo had thought Shawsey was just being stubborn and difficult. Shawsey had a reputation for being difficult after the way he treated the Hundred Acre Wood Wolves when he retired and refused to come back and answer any of their phone calls. But when Roo laid his eyes on Winnie the Pooh who's eyes were glued to the TV as if the Lifetime movie was the second coming of Jesus. In one paw he was shoveling down a half gallon of dolce deleche ice cream, the other paw was on his privates, fondling his scrotum. Dirty dishes from Pooh's big pig out breakfast littered the room.

"Hi Pooh," Roo greeted.

Pooh's eye's were fixed trance like at the TV.

"Pooh bear," Roo said again. "Pooh! Pooh!"

Pooh just stared at the TV, slurping his ice cream. He farted.

"Uh mice," Pooh grunted still trance-like.

"I told you so," said Shawsey. Roo had no time for crap today. He shimmied behind the home theater system and unplugged the TV. The menopausal woman who was distraught over her husband's affair with a toll booth worker vanished.

"Hey," Pooh cried. "I was watching that!"

"Pooh I need your help," Roo said. "Now!"

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered. "I'm no help. Leave me alone. Put my movie back on."

"You can help me Pooh," said Roo.

"Why should I help," Pooh muttered as he shoved down some more ice cream. "It's Saturday. I want to watch TV and I just ordered a pizza."

"You get a date with a hot blond Russian chick if you help," Roo said.

"For a date with a hot blond Russian chick I'd help you," Shawsey offered.

Roo had considered Shawsey. He was the right age, had tons of money, good muscular bod. But Shawsey was the kind who would go straight to his parents. Shawsey and Geoff played golf a lot together. It was too risky.

"I need Pooh's help," said Roo.

"I know," Shawsey said. "I don't really give a shit what you little diaper babies do. I can't imagine what a third grader needs Pooh's help with. What? Your mom packed you a revolting lunch you don't want to eat but you can't bring the lunchbox back full so you're making Pooh eat it for you?"

"No," Roo said. "But that's a good idea. I'll save that for next time Mom packs me a tofu and sea grass taco. "Please Pooh. Friend to friend. Will you help me?"

"Oh bother," Pooh said. "I do want to help you Roo, but I don't want to miss the movie. I was really into it."

"Tape the fucking thing god damn it!" Roo shouted.

"Roo," Shawsey gasped. "What language, I'm telling your dad next time we play golf." To Roo and Shawsey's amazement Pooh got up off of his ass and stalked off to the gourmet kitchen. Pooh opened the door to the stainless steel subzero fridge and took out a jar of pickled herring. With his fingers he began to shove pieces of the slimy fish down his throat.

"Pooh," Roo pleaded. Pooh whirled around and glared at him. With a full mouth he grumbled.

"I know I'm a bear of Lilliputian brain, but I do know when someone is trying to take advantage of me."

"Asking you to do a favor is taking advantage?" Roo shrieked. "Since when? Whatever happened to that best friends, friends stick together bullshit?"

Pooh took out a loaf of bread, some honey mustard, a tray of cold cuts, a container of wine flavored cheese, and some field greens, and began to furiously build a sandwich. "You come over here on a Saturday afternoon, my only day off. The only day where I can sleep as long as I want to, and watch TV all day. You burst in here, turn my TV off, and cuss at me. You expect me to help you?"

"Pooh," said Shawsey. "Since when is Saturday the only day off you get. As I recall I'm the one who pays the bills around here. You're the one who slept in until three in the afternoon just this past Thursday."

"I had to go with Christopher-Robin for an after school cheeseburger," Pooh mumbled. "If it wasn't for that I would have slept in until five."

"Oh poor baby," Shawsey muttered. "Pooh I'm sick of having you as a permanent fixture in my home theater room. Maybe I would like to watch some college ball on the big screen TV. Instead you're hogging it up with some dippy Lifetime movie about bulimic menopausal women on drugs! You raid my refrigerator, I can hardly keep up with your grocery bill, I can't invite any chicks, ex football pals, my old home man Wayne Fontes, or any of my golfing buddies from the club over here, because you're always laying on the coach, watching idiotic movies, stuffing your face, trashing the room with dirty dishes, and empty wrappers, and playing with your privates at the same time!"