Hello, Invisible Friends.  I’m Booger the Lobster.

Lobster Extraordinare of Pecan Pies…

Burger Master….

And friend (or foe, depending on what mood she’s in) of Queen Bitty.

Bear, I’m afraid, is still terrified of my bright red claws.

Anyway, I wanted to introduce the new Miss Pickles before I headed back home, after the Grand Thanksgiving Feast at the Pond hosted by Theo.  After a week of eating nothing but pie and turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes and rolls and cookies…I need a nap.

And a good hundred miles of swimming and ocean floor calisthenics.

Let me tell you, Theo can shake his tail feathers.

To learn more about ordering or reading the original Miss Pickles book, go here.

Now, get ready for a new edition of the Return of Miss Pickles, as Mason faces the mysteries of Ladybug Island.  Grab some pie and snuggle in.

Meanwhile, I’m going to scuttle home as fast as my overstuffed claws can carry me.

Excuse me.

To read the previous editions of Miss Pickles, go here.

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Grumbling under his breath, Mason stormed into the jungle of Ladybug Island.  Shoving thick green leaves out of his path and weaving through tall grass, he stomped deeper and deeper into the jungle.

“There’s bound to be something exciting about this place,” he muttered, jumping as a parrot squawked overhead.  “Well, something more exciting than a parrot.”

The parrot cocked his head, but didn’t answer.  In the distance, Mason could hear his classmates laughing and shouting.  Narrowing his eyes, he moved deeper into the forrest.

Mason wasn’t an expert on jungles, but this jungle looked precisely like all the jungles he had ever seen on TV or in books.  Slim patches of blue sky were visible through the tall leafy trees, and vines dangled around him, brushing his arms and legs as he passed.  The air was filled with the chattering and jabbering of birds and beasts, soft enough not to worry him but loud enough to keep him aware.  Carefully stepping through the brush so not to step on anything that might bite, Mason moved deeper in the forest.

Suddenly, he heard giggling.  Whirling around, his eyes darted from left to right.  “Who’s there?” he called.  “Ralph?  Don?  Miss Pickles?”

Only silence replied.  The hairs on his neck pricked.  Curling his fingers into his palm, he crept forward.

A giggle burbled to his left and leaves shook.

“Who’s there?” he called.  “Don, this better not be a joke…Don doesn’t play jokes,” he answered himself.  Narrowing his eyes, he peered at the trembling leaves.  “Beatrice?”

There was no answer, only another giggle.

Mason crept forward, his eyes on the quivering plant.  “Are you part of the adventure?” he called, stepping closer.  “Who are you?”

Whoever it was giggled a third time.  Mason jumped forward, tackling the plant.  “Gotcha!” he cried, holding up his hands to see who the giggler was.  “There was no one there.”

Now the giggle was coming from the other side of the forest.  Brushing the leaves from his arms, Mason hurried to his feet.  “Are we playing a game?” he called.  “Is that what you’re doing?”

The giggle had moved again, further into the forest.  Hurrying after it, Mason shouted, “Who are you?  Do you live here?”

The giggles had grown to peals of laughter, bubbling pleasantly in the air.  The rest of the forest had grown silent, even the squawks of the parrots and birds.  All Mason could hear was his own ragged breathing and the rustling of leaves as he chased the mysterious laughter.

“Who are you?” he called, rushing after it.  “What are you?”

The giggle sounded high in the trees, then low on the ground.  It darted from left to right, trees to bushes.  Peering closer to the rustling branches, Mason saw no glimpse of hands or feet, clothing or fur.  Whatever this thing was, it was very different.

The sky was barely visible through the trees now.  Mason gulped, glancing around as he crept closer to the giggling being.  He was so deep in the forest, he had no idea how to get out.  He had long ago lost his bearings or any sense of direction thrashing after the strange creature.

“Please!” he cried, climbing over a mossy log.  “Tell me who you are.  Tell me what you want.”

The creature shrieked with laughter and vanished into the leafy undergrowth.  Mason stood frozen for a moment, listening to the still forest around him.  Then slowly, like an audience getting to its feet after the end of a dramatic movie, the chattering and chirping started again.

“Great,” he muttered, shivers slithering down his spine as he glanced at the trees around him.  “My brilliance has gotten me lost in a forest on a strange island without any food or water, with some weird giggling thing running around.  I should do what Ralph says next time and pack food.”

The balmy air made his skin slick with sweat and his winter clothes itched against the back of his legs and arms.  Biting his lip, he sighed and continued to walk deeper into the jungle.

For what seemed like hours, but was really much shorter, he climbed over fallen logs, waded through tall grass and dodged snakes dangling from low tree branches.  He swung over creeks on a vine, climbed over a few misplaced boulders and watched a pink cheeked lizard turn from red to orange to blue in a single moment.

Finally, he saw it.  A glimpse of gold and blue through the thick jungle grass.  Even next to a shrieking monkey, he could hear laughter and voices.

“I did it!” he cried.  “I found my way back!”

Triumphant, he raced through the foliage, flinging up his arms. “Miss Pickles!  Miss Pickles!  I’m…” he trailed off, his mouth dropping open.

Mason was standing in the middle of the biggest garden he had ever seen.  The flowers were taller than he was, bursting with blooms in brilliant colors and stems thicker than his waist.  A pond that looked more like a small lake was in the center of the garden, along with plump bushes and a few wide oak trees.  It looked like something you’d find in a English storybook than in the middle of a island in the jungle.

“What do you think?” a voice asked, booming over him.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Mason glanced up and felt his mouth go dry.  A ladybug standing nearly eight feet tall was peering down at him, smiling.  Behind her, he could see other ladybugs sunning themselves, sliding on leaves and drinking out of petals.  Slightly smaller bumble bees buzzed from a large black hole in a tree and butterflies the size of small airplanes danced jauntily in the air above.

“Welcome to Ladybug Island, Mason,” the Ladybug bellowed, flinging out her large arms.  “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a hilarious revelation of some Christmas-cookie loving Pond creatures, Wednesday the next-to-last Isadora and Thursday, a delicious Christmas cookie recipe.  Then Friday a new Dallas Jean and Saturday, the remainder of our 12 Christmas artists!  Stay tuned!