Dear Invisible Friends,

As Augie, the poet otter of the Land of the Flowered Bed,

It is my pleasure to introduce,

The newest issue of Miss Pickles to be read.

Tis a tale of whimsy and delight,

Adventure and mayhem,

And even the occasional fright.

And should you finish and want some more,

Perhaps you should read all the issues before.

Or the first published work of the series,

Found in published works.

And if you’re up for more fun,

Read Saturday’s Land of the Flowered Bed Tale,

As we try to both escape and find the Doldrums.

I promise you, it’s harder than it sounds.

Until then, Invisible Friends,

I shall go float about on my back and compose an ode,

Or perhaps a sonnet or two,

Happy reading,

And may much whimsy come to you!

——————————————————————————————————————————————–

Everyone stared at Mason and Don.

“Did it work?” Miss Pickles repeated hopefully, her glittering pirate sword swinging by her side as she bounced on her heels in anticpation.

“I’m not sure,” Mason said cautiously, shaking his head as if the giggles would fall out of his ears.  “I don’t hear anything, but I haven’t heard anything since we came to this part of the island.  I’m not as sensitive as Don’s been.”

Don smacked the side of his head, grimacing as more of the vile liquid he’d been forced to drink surged from his nostrils.  “I don’t hear anything either,” he admitted.

Miss Pickles beamed and clapped Ladybug on the back.  “Well done, Seabreeze!” she cried, waving her pink sword in the air.  “Now we can get Ladybug to her party and the duckies back to school.”

The Seabreeze shook her head, quieting the children’s delighted squeals with her solemn expression.  “It doesn’t meant anything,” she replied quietly.  “I’ve got mounds of protective spells around this tree.  We’re going to have to step outside for a moment.  If they don’t hear anything then, they’re cured.  If not….”  She trailed off, biting her lip.

“Plan B?”  The Ladybug wrung her hands, her black face a shade of grey.

“Plan B.”  The Seabreeze nodded.

Mason and Don glanced at each other, their hopeful smiles popping like balloons.  A knot of worry curled in Mason’s belly.  Taking a deep breath, he nodded.  “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Don replied glumly.

Ralph squeezed their hands, his cheeks bulging with banana.  He looked like a plump German monkey.  “I’m sure you’re cured,” he mumbled around the mushed banana.  “I’m just sure of it!”

Mason gave him a weak smile.  Taking a second deep breath, he pushed the door of the tree house open.  Carefully, he and Don stood in the clearing and waited.  From where they stood, they could see Miss Pickles and the Seabreeze watching them anxiously.

Sliding his fingers through his beltloops, Don cocked his head.  “I don’t hear anything.”

“Neither do I.”  Mason exhaled slowly.  It felt like a million bricks had been lifted off his spine.  “She did it.  We’re cured!”

“We’re cured!”  Don whooped, leaping up and jabbing his fists in the air.  “Yeah!  We’re cured!  We’re cured!”

Inside, the children burst into gleeful cries as Miss Pickles and the Ladybug embraced.  The Seabreeze smiled, beating her golden wings together.

Cartwheeling across the clearing, Mason howled with glee.  “We’re free!  We’re free of that dreadful, obnoxious, stupid”–  He stopped mid-cartwheel, falling on his backside.  Don, who had been bouncing on a tree stump, froze as well, tumbling off the side of the stump and skinning his knee.  He barely noticed, his head cocked to the sky.

“Oh no,” Miss Pickles whispered from the doorway of the treehouse, pressing her fingers to her lips.  “Don’t tell me….”

“I was afraid of this,” the Seabreeze sighed.

In unison, both boys doubled over in pain, clutching at their heads.  Mason cried out as Don squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to leak out the edges.

“It’s getting too strong!” the Seabreeze cried, flapping her wings as the boys rocked back and forth.  “Hurry!  Hurry!  Bring them inside!”

Ralph and several of the other children hurried outside.  Pulling Mason and Don to their feet and throwing their arms around their shoulders, the children dragged their classmates inside.

“Don, Mason!” Ralph cried, slapping at their pale cheeks with his chubby hands.  “Speak to me!  Are you all right?  Are you dying?  Do you need a cookie?  How about some pie?  Speak to me!  Speak to me!”

Don opened his eyes and glared.  “If you give me a cookie, I’m going to jam it down your throat.”

“Oh good.” Ralph beamed, plopping down on his friend’s stomach.  He didn’t notice when Don’s eyes bugged out and he made a slight strangled sound.  “You’re fine.”  He turned his attention to Mason.  “Do you need a cookie?  I could sure use a cookie.”

“We have more to think about then cookies,” the Seabreeze interrupted.  “If you’re hungry, have a banana.”

“I’m not hungry,” Ralph replied, astonished.  “I’m in need of comfort.  So are they.  Comfort means cookies.  Don’t you have any around here?  Any special birdie treehouse cookies or something?”  He sniffed the air hopefully.

“We don’t have time for comfort,” the Seabreeze said, her voice curt.  “It’s time for Plan B.”

“What is Plan B?” Miss Pickles asked.  She peered inside her handbag as if searching for the answer.

The Seabreeze gnashed her golden beak together.  “We must go to the Forlorn Falls and collect the Tears of Anguish from the Weeping Willow.  Then, we have to come back here, trap the Giggler and pour the tears over his eyes.  That is the only way to cure Mason and Don.”

“And if we don’t?”  one of the children demanded, crossing their arms.

The Seabreeze turned a beady eye in their direction.  “Then they’ll go mad,” she whispered.

“Why do we have to go get tears of some stupid creature?” Don burst out, rubbing his sore ears.  “Do you know how dangerous that is?  Do you know how many ethics and safety violations we’ve already broken?  And Beatrice is still on the beach–alone!  If we were home, we’d all be in jail.  Why can’t we just make someone here cry?  Why do we have to go to the Forlorn Falls?”

The Seabreeze sighed. “Like most things in life, everything requires balance,” she said.  “Night and day.  Black and white.  Good and bad.  Right and wrong.”

“What’s your point?” Don snarled.

“You know, you really are a petulant child,” the Seabreeze muttered.  Raising her voice, she added, “The point is that the Giggler can only be undone by extreme sorrow.  As he represents hilarity and frivolity to the point of madness, the Tears of Anguish represent sorrow and gloominess to the point of utter despair.”

The room was enveloped in a somber silence.

“That just sounds delightful,” Mason muttered, the knot in his stomach growing tighter.

“I really want a cookie now,” Ralph whimpered.

“And we have to do all this by midnight?” the Ladybug asked, her voice rising into a squeak.

“I never said it would be easy.”   The Seabreeze folded her wings.  “What’s it going to be?”

Mason looked at Miss Pickles.  She winked and pulled out her pink glittering pirate sword of her belt with a flourish.

“To the Forlorn Falls we go!”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have more whimsical fun tomorrow, a new pet shop story Wednesday, a delicious recipe Thursday, a tribute to my favorite birthday boy Friday and a new Dallas Jean Saturday! Stay tuned!