Hello, Invisible Friends.  I’m Augie the Otter (short for Augustus), the newest member of the Land of the Flowered Bed.

For those of you who don’t know, the Land of the Flowered Bed is a magical land of enchanted toys that go on all sorts of adventures.  It’s also an illustrated book, available for purchase here. There are two more books coming!

Why is my name Augustus?  Well, I’ll tell you….

On Saturday, when you read the newest Land of the Flowered Bed adventure.

Until then, I’ll leave you to read The Return of Miss Pickles.

The first Miss Pickles is available here. And for the earlier editions of the Return of Miss Pickles, go here.

Meanwhile, I’m going to go for a swim in the bathtub at the Spa and hunt up some tasty clam chowder.

Yum.

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“A very long story,” Miss Pickles continued, twirling around the Ladybug Queen in pink polka-dotted rain boots.   “One which we don’t have much time for.  It involves a mysterious box and a school for girls and a stack of pancakes that reached the sky…No matter.  We don’t have time.  If we are to save you from giggling yourself into a mad abyss, we must hurry.”

Mason, dying of curiosity, shook his head.  “Not even the shortened version of the story?” he begged.  “Come on.  You can’t talk about a mysterious box and a stack of pancakes that reaches the sky and not give me even a clue.”

“Later, ducky,” Miss Pickles promised, pulling a pink parasol out of her tiny pink purse.  “Right now, we must hurry.”

The Ladybug Queen, whose nimble black fingers had been flying over the table wrapping batches of glittering berries in pockets of flaky dough, nodded.  “She’s right, Mason.  But I can tell you that we’re celebrating my granddaughter’s birthday at the Parfait Party.”

Mason turned to the Ladybug who had carried him to the castle.  “Your birthday?”

Her red cheeks deepened to a burgundy.  “That’s right,” she muttered.  “My sixteenth.”

“You’re only 16?  Wow!” Mason exclaimed.  “I thought you were an adult.”

“16 is an adult in ladybug years,” the Ladybug Queen explained, setting a dozen parfaits on a pan and signaling to a waiting bumblebee in a chef’s apron.  The tray was whisked away, a freshly greased one set in its place as the Queen created more parfaits.  “This is special because this party will determine her purpose in life.”

“What do you mean?” Mason asked.

“Every ladybug must have a purpose in life,” the queen replied, popping a berry into her mouth.  “This party will tell us what my granddaughter’s is.  It might be a guest’s speech; maybe a enchanted berry in parfait; a piece of artwork; a story or a hidden locket.  We don’t know what or who will tell us.  We just know something will.”

“It’s all very exciting,” the younger Ladybug murmured, her eyes downcast.  Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms.  “But there won’t be any sort of celebration if we don’t solve Mason’s problem with the Giggler.”

“The simplest solution, of course, is to drink the Solvent of Seriousness,” the Queen replied, completing one pan of tarts and beginning on another.  “That of course, requires you to go to the uncharted parts of Ladybug Island.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Mason asked, glancing at Miss Pickles.  She grinned, a bit too wickedly in Mason’s opinion.

“No one knows, ducky,” she replied.  “Only a few have ever been to those parts of Ladybug Island, and fewer have lived to tell about it.  Those who have been there won’t say what’s in the shadowy jungles, the deep caves of Ladybug Mountain.  I asked one gentleman once to tell me about it and you would have thought I threatened his family.  He turned white as a sheet, shivering and shaking while shaking his head.  It took four days for him to stop shaking.”

Mason gulped.  “What’s the Solvent of Seriousness?”

“It’s mixed up by an old medicine woman who lives in the uncharted part of the Island,” Miss Pickles replied.  “Originally, there were a few people lucky enough to live on Ladybug Island.  But most of them are gone now.  She might be gone, as well.  But it’s the fastest cure.   Otherwise…”  She trailed off, biting her tongue.

“Otherwise, what?” Mason asked, his stomach clenching in knots.

Miss Pickles shook her head.  “Otherwise, I’m not sure how we’ll ward off the Giggler.  No one knows any other cures.”

Mason’s mouth went dry as his palms ran rivers.  Wiping them on his hands, he bit his lower lip.  “How do I get to the medicine woman?” he asked.

“We’ll all go, ducky,” Miss Pickles replied, peeking into her purse.  “I’ll round up all the other duckies in a moment.”

“Where are the others?” Mason asked, realizing he hadn’t seen Don and Ralph in quite awhile.

“The Sugar Sharks were having a barbecue and invited them to stay for fish tacos and caramelized sea slugs,” Miss Pickles answered, her voice muffled as she poked her head in her purse.  “I could have sworn I had a map in here…”  As the amazed ladybugs watched, Miss Pickles crawled into her tiny handbag that was no bigger than two hands placed side by side.  Loud clangs, clatters and a few grunts and snorts came from the tiny bag as Miss Pickles rainboots peeked out over the edge.  It was the only part of her that was visible.

“She does this all the time,” Mason informed the Ladybug next to him, who was staring in a mixture of amazement in horror.  “By the way, what’s your name?  You never said.”

“I won’t know my name until my 16th birthday party,” the Ladybug murmured, her eyes fixed on the kicking rain boots.  “It’s part of my becoming an adult, just like finding out my life’s purpose.”

“I became Queen at my 16th party,” the Queen reminisced, her black eyes shining as her hands scooped out more dough.  “It was such a wonderful occasion…”

“So what do I call you?” Mason asked.

“Ladybug,” the Ladybug shrugged.  “Everyone else does.”

Mason raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.  With a triumphant grunt, Miss Pickles jumped out of her bag.  Batting at a wayward octopus tentacle, she closed her purse and waved a folded, yellowing paper above her head.

“I knew my antique map collection would come in handy!” she crowed.  “I have no idea if it’s accurate, but that’s half the fun, right?”

“I guess,” Mason replied, his face twisted in doubt.

“So we’ll just grab the other duckies and go!” Miss Pickles bellowed, pressing the map to her chest with a flourish.  “Come on, Ladybug!  Queenie, are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“As tempting as it is, I think I’ll stay here,” the Queen Ladybug replied drily.  She glanced at the pile of sparkling berries behind her and sighed.  “I have a lot of treats to make.”

“Suit yourself,” Miss Pickles shrugged.  “Come on, Ladybug!  You can ride down with us in my new flying bicycle.  It’s delightful.”

“A flying bicycle?” Mason repeated, his eyes wide.

“Ladybug, remember to be at your party before midnight,” her grandmother admonished, eyeing her.  “Otherwise…” she trailed off.

“Otherwise what?” Mason asked.

The Ladybug Queen shook her head.  “Otherwise, not only will she not know her life’s purpose, but she won’t know who she is.  She’ll spend her life in a meaningless vacuum.”

Before Mason could even let her words soak in, Miss Pickles dragged him over to a hot pink bicycle with two seats, two giant white wings laced with steel and a enormous basket.  “Since Ladybug is larger, I’ll give her the extra seat and plop you in the basket, ok?” she said.  Without waiting, she plunked Mason in the woven basket and hopped onto the bicycle.  As Ladybug hopped on, Miss Pickles began to pedel rapidly.  Snapping her aviater goggles over her face, she grinned.

“Ready?” she cried.

Before Mason could squeak in disagreement, the bike rose in the air.  With wide eyes, Mason watched as Miss Pickles pedaled the bike out of the window of the Ladybug Castle towards the clouds below…

To be continued…

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have an ode to cinnamon rolls (and how I love thee!) and Wednesday a brand new NeverEnding Tale!  Then Thursday we have a new recipe and Friday, more Dallas Jean!  Stay tuned!