Hello, Invisible Friends.  I’m Norman the Flying Pig.

And I have a confession.

But first I have an announcement.

This Saturday, Nov. 21, the Blond Duck will have her first book signing.  The signing will be held at the Twig, a independent bookstore in San Antonio at its new location at the Pearl Brewery Complex. From 10:30 a.m. until noon, we’ll be having lots of fun with books and Christmas cookies and more whimsy than you can stuff in a stocking.  If you’re in the area, she would love to meet you.

I, Norman of the Flying Pigs, also have a announcement.  Well, a confession really.

A scandalous, devious confession.

But you’ll have to wait until Saturday to find out.

Why?

Because I’m in the mood to munch on some tasty, tasty grass sprinkled with a few fall leaves.  It’s what we Flying Pigs do, you know.

While I’m smacking and snorting away, you can read the Return of Miss Pickles, or the previous editions here.

Or you can read the first adventure in this Miss Pickles series, available here.

Excuse me.  I just found a patch of tasty grass.

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Mason stared in wonder over the side of the balloon.  The golden speck was rapidly becoming a large golden mass, dotted with palm trees and miles and miles of lush green foliage.  “Ladybug Island,” he breathed.  “I’ve never heard of it.”

“They must call it that because of its shape,” Don mused, peering closely at the island from his perch next to Mason.  “See how it’s round and cuts in in the center?”

Mason squinted, but shook his head.  “No,” he admitted.  “But I’m sure you’re right.”

Miss Pickles hid a smile.

“Do they have anything to eat?” Ralph asked hopefully, rubbing his growling stomach.

“All you’ve done is eat!” Don snapped, pointing to a pile of empty cookie tins.

“But I’ve never had island cuisine,” Ralph replied, wounded.  “That’s different than cookies.  My mom makes better cookies than this.”  He froze and glanced up at Miss Pickles, who was holding her pogo stick with one hand and the enormous parasol keeping them afloat with the other.  “No offense, Miss Pickles.”

“None taken,” she replied, sticking out her tounge as she flicked her wrist slightly.  “A bit to the left, a nudge to the right….ah, here we are!”

With a soft thump more gentle than leaping out of bed, the large hot air balloon landed on the ground.  The children spilled out of the basket, throwing off yards of hot pink silk as the balloon deflated and stumbling onto the golden sand.

“Great,” Beatrice sneered.  “Now instead of plummeting to our deaths, we’re going to die of dehydration and starvation.”

“There’s water right there,” Don replied, pointing to the ocean.

“Haven’t you ever heard of salt water?” Beatrice snarled.

“Haven’t you ever heard of evaporation?” Don snapped.  “Who’s the boy scout, me or you?”

“Considering I’m not a boy…” Beatrice drawled, crossing her arms.

“Precisely!” Don bellowed.  “Therefore, you can not possibly know the safety procedures to purifying water in any condition, including a desert island.  I do.  As well as knowing how to purify water in a environmentally friendly and LEGAL fashion.  In fact, I was named the highest ranking boy scout of the Wolf order for my brilliant ability to”–

Unfortunately, at this point, even Mason and Ralph had stopped paying attention.  As Don bellowed about water safety, Mason peeled off his thick sweatshirt and tied it around this waist.  Bending down to roll up his jeans, he glanced around.  From here, all he could see was tall palm trees and thick bright green bushes dotted with colorful flours. Golden sand lined the bright blue water, with a handful of shells scattering the sand.  Several little girls were already inspecting the shoreline for more shells, as several boys picked up pieces of driftwood and staged a pirate fight.  Don’s lecture on water safety abrubtly ended as he stared aghast at the battling boys.

“Guys, don’t do that!” he cried, dashing towards them.  “Splinters!  You’ll get a terrible splinter that will get infected!”

“So?” one of the boys replied, smacking his friend’s arm with his driftwood sword.

“So, if it gets infected, you could get gangrene and have to get an arm amputated.  There will be lots of gore and pus”–

“Pus!” the boys crowed, delighted.  “Yes!  Let’s get pus!”

“And gangrine!” one added, smacking his friend in the ear.  Don turned white and had to sit down for a moment.

“A coconut!” Ralph bellowed, distracted Mason from watching Don holding his head in his hands and muttering about the legal ramifications of this island adventure.  “Look, Mason!  A coconut!”  Mason followed the path of his chubby finger to the top of a palm tree.

“That’s really high up there, Ralph,” he said doubtfully.  “Maybe you could throw something at it, knock it down.”

Ralph pouted.  “I’m going to climb up and get it.”

“You?” Mason raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, me,” Ralph replied, his face defiant.  “Watch.”  Bumbling over to the tree, he hooked his thick legs around the base and clawed at the tree.  Grunting, his face red, he pulled himself up a few inches.  “I’ll get there!” he cried, moaning as he crawled a few more inches.  “Don’t worry about me…”

Shrugging, Mason turned to Miss Pickles.  She had returned the giant parasol and pogo stick to her purse and was now polishing a hot pink surfboard.  “You’re going to go surfing?” he asked incredulously.

“Why not?” she replied.  “It’s a lovely day for it.  Just look at the waves!”

“But, I thought we were supposed to go on an adventure,” Mason protested.  “Wasn’t that the whole point of this?”

“Who says you’re not on an adventure now?” Miss Pickles countered.

“Because it’s not…” Mason paused.  “It’s not exciting like the last one,” he said finally.  “If I wanted to go to the beach, I could have had my parents take me to Florida.  We should be doing something amazing, something no one has ever done before.  An adventure is supposed to be new and exciting.”

“Not necessarily,” Miss Pickles replied.  “Sometimes an adventure can be wondering around your back yard, or your guest room.  It’s a place you’ve been a million times before or a thing you’ve done a million times before, but if you look at it in a new way, it can be terribly exciting.”

“I guess,” Mason sighed.  “But no offense, this isn’t exciting.  It’s fun, of course, but it’s not adventure exciting.”

“Who says?” Miss Pickles asked.  She gestured around them with her bar of wax.  “The boys playing pirate ship and burying Don in the sand find this exciting.  The girls who just found a pearl on the beach are quite excited.”  She paused to let the latest wave of screams die down.  “Ralph is quite excited about his coconut–”

“I’m almost there!” Ralph shouted, beaming.  “Look Mason!  I’m almost there!”

Mason turned.  Ralph had moved a foot.  “Good job!” he called.  “Keep going!”  He turned back to Miss Pickles as she continued speaking.

“Even Beatrice is having a exciting time,” she said, pointing to the normally sneering Beatrice who was now giggling over a sand dollar she found.  “And as for me, there’s nothing more exciting than going surfing.  Especially in these shark infested waters.”

“Sharks?” Mason gulped.  “What kind of sharks?”

“Delightful ones,” Miss Pickles assured them.  “They’re quite sweet.  Actually, they’re sugar sharks.  Instead of fish, they eat seaweed jellybeans,  gummy jellyfish, cookies, things like that.  In fact, they love doughnuts.”  Pulling a box of donuts from her purse, she shrugged off a hot pink cover up to reveal a pink wet suit underneath.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”  Placing the donuts on the board, she drug it into the waves and paddled out in the ocean.

Frustrated, Mason bit his lip and glanced at the foliage.  “Fine,” he muttered.  “If no one is going to do anything other than goof around on the beach, I’ll find my own adventure.”  Glancing around, he marched straight into the strange jungle.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have some whimsical fun and Wednesday, a new Isadora followed by a tasty recipe Thursday!  Friday a new Dallas Jean and Saturday, Norman the Flying Pig’s confessions!  Stay tuned!