Hello, Invisible Friends.  Bear here.  I was hoping you could help me with a predicament.

I seem to have lost my wuffler.

My wuffles have become grunts and groans, wheezes and moans.  I’ve been searching in vain, and growing more desperate by the hour.  Where oh where have my wuffles gone?

If I could wuffle right now, I would.

All I can offer in a way of reward is kisses and hot puppy breath.

If you find my wuffles, please let me know.

For a Bear who can’t wuffle isn’t much of a Bear at all.

Pretend I wuffled here.

Until then, enjoy the newest Miss Pickles.

You can read the previous editions here. Or purchase the published novel here, the predecessor to this tantalizing tale.

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For the first time in ages, Mason felt throughly ashamed of himself.  He watched Ralph’s retreating back, his jaw hanging open.

Don was the first to break the silence.  “You know, I thought hell would freeze over before Ralph lost interest in food.”

Mason couldn’t even pretend to laugh.  “He’s right, you know.”

“I know.”  They sat in silence for a moment.  “There must be a more efficient way to do this.”  Don stood, briskly dusting off his shorts.  “There’s no sense in running all over the forest trying to find the Giggler.  All we’ll do is waste time and ruin the Ladybug’s chances of returning to her party.”

“Can you hear him?” Mason asked.

Don shook his head, scowling.  “The one time I want to hear that annoying cackle, I can’t.  Figures.  Murphy’s Law.  You know, Murphy was quite a sensible man.  Did you know he said”–

“What if we go ask the creature in the Pond?” Mason interrupted, not interested in a lecture about Murphy’s law.  “I doubt the Wilifred the Warbling Walrus would be much help, but what about Juniper?”

“No offense, but I don’t know how a water sprite is going to help us.”  Don frowned.  “As much as I hate to say it, we’d be better off returning to the Seabreeze.”  He gulped, looking as though he swallowed a lemon.

“If we haven’t found him with her magic map and directions, I doubt she can find him,” Mason pointed out.

“What we need is logic.”  Don scowled.  “And a plan.  Instead of chasing magic maps and chatting with water sprites and oversized phoenixes with a bad attitude”–

“What do you have against the Seabreeze?” Mason asked.  “She was always nice to you.”

“–We need a plan,” Don continued, ignoring him.  “We need to organize our thoughts and do this reasonably.  It’s the only way to get Ladybug back to her party and us back to Ordinary Elementary.”

Mason brushed at a fly buzzing around his face.  “You know, even though I told Ralph that, I really don’t want to go back to our dull lives.  I was just tired and frustrated.”

“I don’t either.” Don admitted.  “But adventures can’t last forever.  Otherwise they would be as dull as regular life.”

“I guess.”  Glumly, Mason stared at the path created by Ralph’s careless stomping through the forest.  Suddenly, he blinked.  “You know, nothing about this island is logical.”

“Tell me about it.”  Don’s frown was so severe Mason had to force himself not to laugh.

“No, think about it,” Mason continued.  “To use the map correctly, we had to go where we needed to be, not where we wanted to go.  To stop the Giggler, we need Tears of Anguish from a Weeping Willow that grows upside down in a Pond and is manned by a water sprite.  The Giggler sounds like a happy creature, but really he’s vindictive.  A phoenix that bursts not into flames of fire, but water.”

“I was there, too,” Don pointed out irratably.  “No offense, but I’m not too nostalgic yet.”

“The point is everything is not what it seems,” Mason emphasized, waving his arms in excitement.  “What is up is down, what is back is forward, what is left is right.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The Giggler wants us to chase him.”  The words came out in an excited rush, Mason’s lips moving faster than the thoughts could string together in his brain.  “He wants to play a game, cat and mouse, hide and seek.  He wants to chase us, then have us chase him.  But the one thing he won’t be able to resist is a challenge.  A child without a single giggle in their molecules, a single speck of joy in their cells.”

Don nodded.  Suddenly, his eyes widened.  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I have a brilliant plan.”  Mason grinned widely.  “Let’s go find Miss Pickles.”

Whooping, they rushed through the brush.  Miss Pickles was perched on a rock as their classmates milled around her, not knowing what they were supposed to do or where they were supposed to go.  Her trademark curls were deflated, dangling in sweaty ringlets around her chin.  Her rhinestone handled sword dangled loosely by her side, and she had pulled the garish gold hoops from her ears.  As she twirled them on her finger, she stared listlessly into the forest.

“There you are,” she mummured, her voice dull and flat.  “Ok. We can go home now.”

“Miss Pickles, we’re sorry for what we said earlier!” Mason blurted out.  “We didn’t mean it.”

Miss Pickles shook her head.  “You meant it.  You know you did.”

“Maybe then, but we changed our minds!” Don danced from foot to foot.  “Mason has a brilliant plan.”

Miss Pickles blinked, her face expressionless.  “I’ll just take you home, duckies.”

“No, Miss Pickles, listen!”  Mason bent over and murmured in her ear.  As she listened, a spark danced in her eyes.  A grin spread across her cheeks, and her trademark hair almost seemed to raise and inch or two.  As Mason stood up, she clipped the earrings back in her ears.

“That’s brilliant, duckies!” she roared.  Her hair sprung out, exploding around her pleased pink face.  “Duckies, we must hurry!  To the beach!”

“To the beach!” Mason crowed.

“To the beach!” Don shouted.

Wrapped up in the excitement, the other children rushed after them.

Even if they had no idea why they were going back to the beach.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a wailing wuffles lament tomorrow, a new pet shop story, a delicious brisket Thursday and a new Dallas Jean Friday!  Stay tuned!

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