Hello, Invisible Friends.

I’m the Fuzzy Duck.

You might remember me from past Christmas adventures.

And my adventure with a certain Rubber Chicken.

You’ll have to forgive that our adventure spiraled into silence..you see, things got so very dramatic and complicated so fast in the way dramatic, harrowing life and death tales of a fuzzy Christmas ornament and rubber chicken often do.  But I’ll happy to report the Rubber Chicken and I are living happily in the attic during the Christmas off-season and are hoping to adopt tiny chick ornaments soon.

But now, I’m back.  And I’m busier than ever.

You see I’m hosting the Grand Pond Christmas Tree Party next Tuesday.  All the ornaments and Christmas creatures in the Pond are attending a night of dancing, tree-trimming, cocoa-drinking, cookie-eating, caroling fun.

It’s going to be magnificent.

It’s going to be fabulous.

It’s going to be a lot of work.

But that’s ok.  I’ve got a tin full of Christmas cookies, a whole barrel of cider and my favorite Christmas songs blaring.

And plenty of flying pig ‘tocks to giggle at should I get too snappy.

So while I figure out a way to keep the mermaid and princess ornaments from getting into an arm wrestling contest again, ya’ll can enjoy the newest Miss Pickles.

Don’t forget, the original Miss Pickles is available through Lulu.com!  Just go here.

And if you need Christmas gifts…don’t forget my Christmas book, the Twelve Tales of Christmas! Also available through Amazon.com.

Also, there’s always the Land of the Flowered Bed for the little ones in your life…perfect for reading at bedtime.

And now, for the Return of Miss Pickles…

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Mason stared up at the enormous Ladybug looming over him.  “You’ve been waiting for me?” he repeated cautiously.

“Of course!” the Ladybug bellowed, fluttering her (or was it a him?  Mason had no earthly clue) wings.  “We’ve been expecting you for awhile now.”

“How’s that?”  Mason asked, gulping.  “We just got here a few hours ago.”

“Yes, but this is Ladybug Island,” the Ladybug replied with a touch of condescension.  “We know everything before it happens.”

“Oh,” Mason replied, not sure what to say to this.  Gnawing on his lip, he raised an eyebrow.  “So…what does one do on Ladybug Island?”

“Whatever one does on any island,” the Ladybug replied.  “Swim, fly, drink honeysuckle tea, munch on pollen pomegranates, have a tea party with the sugar sharks…whatever you like, really.”

“Oh,” Mason sighed, his chest heavy with disappointment.  His face dropped and his shoulders slumped.

“You don’t enjoy having tea parties with the sugar sharks?” the Ladybug asked, cocking her large black head.  “They make a wonderful pecan pie and a fabulous pair of scones.”

“No, it’s not that,” Mason replied, forcing a smile on his strained face.  “It’s just last time, we kind of fell into an adventure.  This time, it just seems like…”

“Things aren’t exciting?” the Ladybug finished.  “That there’s no adventure to be found?  You don’t find excitement dining with sharks at the bottom of the ocean or watching bees as big as blimps float around a hidden garden on an island no one knows about?”

Mason blushed.  “When you put it that way, it makes me seem silly.”

“You are silly,” the Ladybug replied.  “All humans are.”  She shook her head, shaking her huge black finger.  “Didn’t Miss Pickles tell you that you can’t find adventures, you simply stumble upon them?  They find you whenever they’re supposed to.”

“How do you know Miss Pickles?” Mason asked suspiciously.

“Everyone knows Miss Pickles.”  The Ladybug shrugged.

Suddenly, a delighted giggle chortled on his left.  “There it is again!” Mason cried, exasperated.  “I chased that thing all over the forest and couldn’t catch it!”

“Couldn’t catch what?” the Ladybug asked, confused.

“Whatever is making that giggling noise,” Mason replied.  The creature giggled again, shrieking with hilarity. “See, there it is again!  It just giggles and laughs and has a grand time.  But the closer you get, the further away it gets.”

The Ladybug’s face had gone pale, her expression grave.  “How long have you been hearing it?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.  Mason glanced at it.  Her hand was as big as his face.

“Ever since I got into the forest,” he replied.  “Why?”

“And it never showed itself to you?” the Ladybug asked.  “You never saw anything?  No one spoke to you?”

“No.  It just giggled all the time. Why?” Mason asked.  He glanced down at the Ladybug’s hand and noticed her black fingers were quavering.  Pressing her shaking hand to her mouth, she shook her head.

“Oh dear,” she murmured.  “This is no good.  No good at all.”

Mason started, his eyes widening.  “What’s not good?”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” the Ladybug murmured.  She waved over a obese bumblebee and whispered something in his ear.  Gasping, he bobbed his head and grunted, launching himself into the sky and barreling across the clouds.  The giggling spirit cackled by Mason’s elbow and he jumped.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.  “What is happening?”

The Ladybug shook her head, pressing her lips together.  “We must go talk to the Ladybug Queen immediately,” she replied, taking his elbow gently.  “Only she can guide you now.”

“Guide me?”  Mason yanked his elbow out of her grasp and glared.  “Guide me from what?”

“From the Giggler, of course,” the Ladybug replied, looking at him as if he was daft.

“And what is the giggler?” he replied with a growl.

“You don’t know what a Giggler is?” The Ladybug shook her head, her face mournful.  “This is worse than I thought.  She can explain.  We must hurry.”

Mason shook his head, jumping back.  “I’m not going anywhere until I go talk to Miss Pickles and my friends.  I left them on the beach.”

“I know,” the Ladybug replied.  “I already sent Bartholomew to fetch them.”

“How did you know where they were?” Mason asked.

“This is Ladybug Island,” the Ladybug replied smugly.  “We know everything.”

“No kidding,” Mason murmured.

“We must hurry,” the Ladybug urged, reaching for his arm again.  “We must get to the Queen soon, so she can tell you how to get rid of the Giggler.”

“What’s wrong with having a Giggler?”  Mason asked, jumping over a basket of purple flowers.  The Ladybug shook her head, pressing her dark lips together.

“You don’t want to know.”

“But  I do want to know,” Mason argued.  “I want to know very badly.”

The Ladybug simply shook her head, her soft black hand curled in an iron grip around his elbow.  Without a word, she leaped into the air and pulled him with her.

The next thing he knew, he was dangling from a Ladybug’s arm miles above the lush garden.  And they were flying higher and higher towards the clouds…

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a Blue Elephant Christmas and Wednesday, the final Isadora!  Thursday we have a delicious new recipe and Friday, more fun with Dallas Jean!  Stay tuned!