If the costume had a serious flaw (besides the non-functioning air conditioner), it was a crucial lack of peripheral vision. The slits, located several inches below Robbie Raccoon’s large plastic eyes, were much too narrow. Had the openings been wider, Winder would have spotted the fleshy pale hand in time to evade it.
It was the hand of famed TV weatherman Willard Scott, and it dragged Joe Winder in front of a camera belonging to the National Broadcasting Company. Danny Pogue, Bud Schwartz and Charles Chelsea stopped in their tracks: Robbie Raccoon was on the Today Show. Live. Willard flung one meaty arm around Winder’s shoulders, and the other around a grandmother from Hialeah who said she was 107 years old. The old woman was telling a story about riding Henry Flagler’s railroad all the way to Key West.
“A hunnert and seven!” marveled Danny Pogue.
Charles Chelsea shifted uneasily. Bud Schwartz shot him a look. “What, she’s lying?”
Morosely the publicity man confessed. “She’s a complete fake. A ringer. I arranged the whole thing.” The burglars stared as if he were speaking another language. Chelsea lowered his voice: “I had to do it. Willard wanted somebody over a hundred years old, they told me he might not come, otherwise. But I couldn’t find anyone over a hundred—ninety-one was the best I could do, and the poor guy was completely spaced. Thought he was Rommel.”
Danny Pogue whispered, “So who’s she?”
“A local actress,” Chelsea said. “Age thirty-eight. The makeup is remarkable.”
“Christ, this is what you do for a living?” Bud Schwartz turned to his partner. “And I thought we were scumballs.”
To the actress, Willard Scott was saying: “You’re here to win that 300-Z, aren’t you, sweetheart? In a few minutes the park opens and the first lucky customer through the gate will be Visitor Number Five Million. They’ll get the new sports car and all kinds of great prizes!”
“I’m so excited!” the actress proclaimed.
“You run along now, but be careful getting in line. The folks are getting pretty worked up out there. Good luck, sweetheart!” Then Willard Scott gave the bogus 107-year-old grandmother a slurpy smooch on the ear. As he released his grip on the woman, he tightened his hug on Joe Winder.
And an awakening nation heard the famous weatherman say: “This ring-tailed rascal is one of the most popular characters here at the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills. Go ahead, tell us your name.”
And in a high squeaky voice, Joe Winder gamely replied: “Hi, Willard! My name is Robbie Raccoon.”
“You’re certainly a big fella, Robbie. Judging by the size of that tummy, I’d say you’ve been snooping through a few garbage cans!”
To which Robbie Raccoon responded: “Look who’s talking, lard-ass.”
Briefly the smile disappeared from Willard’s face, and his eyes searched desperately off-camera for the director. A few feet away, Charles Chelsea tasted bile creeping up his throat. The burglars seemed pleased to be standing so close to a genuine TV star.
A young woman wearing earphones and a jogging suit held up a cue card, and valiantly the weatherman attempted to polish off the segment: “Well, spirits are obviously running high for the big Summerfest Jubilee, so pack up the family and come down to”—where Willard paused to find his place on the card—”Key Largo, Florida, and enjoy the fun! Yon can swim with a real dolphin, or go sliding headfirst down the Wet Willy or bust some broncos with Wild Bill Hiccup. And you kids can get your picture taken with all your favorite animal characters, even Robbie Raccoon.”
Obligingly Joe Winder cocked his head and twirled his tail. Willard appeared to regain his jolly demeanor. He prodded at something concealed under one of the fuzzy raccoon arms. “It looks like our ole pal Robbie’s got a surprise for Uncle Willard, am I right?”
From Winder came a strained chirp: “Fraid not, Mr. Scott.”
“Aw, come on. Whatcha got in that paw?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s see it, you little scamp. Is it candy? A toy? Whatcha got there?”
And seventeen million Americans heard Robbie Raccoon say: “That would be a gun, Willard.”
Chelsea’s ankles got rubbery and he began to sway. The burglars each grabbed an elbow.
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