"Jack the Dancing Rabbit"

By Karlton Douglas

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Karlton Douglas, all rights reserved. 

THE END

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"Blue Moose on The Loose"

Christina VanGinkel

I would like to introduce you to 'Blue Moose on the Loose', which highlights Mouse McGhee...

Mouse McGhee is an illustrator ‘in’ picture books. What happens when he decides to set sail one evening? He creates a beautiful moonlit ocean complete with frothy waves and whales...but as he puts the final additions on his boat, he discovers that a moose has wandered into the wrong story. Moreover, he has painted right onto moose! Can Mouse McGhee paint fast enough to avert disaster...? Now, after a dunking in the blue-cheese sea, where has moose run off?

Blue Moose on the Loose

One big blue moose is on the loose,
Inside this very book.
Romping, stomping, through the pages!
So would you, could you look?

A moose that's blue? You ask me how?
Oh where to even start,
It's quite a story to hear told,
Each and every part…

First let me introduce myself,
My name is Mouse McGhee
Illustrator of story tales,
And sometimes, well, you’ll see…

This all began pages ago,
One breezy summer night,
When I declared, "I shall set sail,
Beneath the bright moonlight"

I gathered up all my brushes,
Ladder, tarps, and pails,
And painted on page one and two,
Big frothy waves and whales.

But on page three, something occurred...
I'd painted on…“An ear!"
I suddenly discovered that
I'd painted moose headgear.

His antler on the right was wet,
The left one almost dry,
That I did do this to a moose,
 "Oh dear, Oh me, Oh my!"

From where the moose did wander in,
I really wasn't sure,
But there he was, across the page,
With fishing net and lure.

He looked at me quite terrified.
I stared at him the same.
So swiftly did he stomp and storm,
We instantly became,

All tangled up in fishing lines,
Nets full of abalone
Backstroking in a sea of blue…
Cheese and macaroni!

Now if I could, I would tell him,
That I apologize,
But if it's you that finds blue Moose,
Please!
Tell him I sympathize!

"Life Was Great Until…"

By Barbara L. Graham

"Life Was Great... Until My Baby Sister Was Born!"

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Barbara L. Graham, all rights reserved.

I was having lots of fun and life was great until the day that Mommy and Daddy brought my new baby sister home.

Before, there used to be just me, Callum, and Mommy and Daddy, and everyone used to play with me and talk to me and read to me and tickle me. Until…Then.

Now SHE got it all and so I was SAD and even MAD. At mommy and daddy, at my new baby sister, at my aunts and uncles, at my cousin, at my nan and papa, and at my oma and opa. Just sad and mad at everyone.

Because whenever anyone came to our house, they all talked about my baby sister and I stood there, all by myself. No one noticed me or played with me or talked to me or read to me or tickled me or anything with me.

One day, I remembered that my Mommy told me that if I ever felt sad or mad, to go into my room and talk to one of my special stuffed friends.

So I did.  I went into my room and looked around.

I have lots of stuffed friends, but my best favourite one is Charli Chicken, a soft, little yellow chicken that looks right at me and sometimes talks to me in a squeaky, funny voice. He has bright blue eyes and fuzzy hair and long skinny legs, just like me. My Nan and Papa gave him to me when I was little and he sleeps with me in my bed every night, nice and close and warm and snuggly.

So I closed my door and crawled up onto my bed with Charli. I held him right in front of me and I looked right at his bright blue eyes and said: “Charli”? I am sad and mad because everyone likes my baby sister more than me.

I put my head down and held Charli close and felt tears coming out of my eyes and falling on my face. Then, I thought I heard Charli say something so I stopped crying and listened, really hard.

Charli said, in a funny and squeaky voice that I was sure only I could hear, “It’s ok, Callum, know you feel that way, and I’m going to help you”.

“Whenever you feel mad or sad, just come in your room and talk to me. You’ll see, I’ll help you every time!”

“But How?” I asked, wiping my sleeve over my tears.

Charli said:  “Just by talking about being mad and sad will make you feel better, because if you keep those feelings all inside, you will feel a whole lot worse.”

“It really helps to talk about it”, said Charli.

“And besides,” said Charli, “its normal to feel mad and even sad when a new baby comes home.  But remember this - your mommy and daddy have hearts that are big enough to love BOTH you AND your baby sister.”

I listened to Charli and started to feel better –because mommy and daddy still loved me and I fell asleep with my arms wrapped tightly around Charli. When I woke up, I wasn’t mad or sad any more.

I went downstairs and Mommy said: “Callum! You had a little nap – are you ok”? 

I said:  “Yes, Mommy – I talked to Charli and he told me that you and daddy have big hearts – big enough to love my little sister AND me. Is he right?”

Mommy got down on the floor and I saw that she had tears on her coming out of her eyes and landing on her face, just like I did with Charli. She wrapped me up in one of her nice nice, cuddly warm hugs and said: “Of course we do Callum - you will always be our most special first born baby and your little sister will always be our most special second born baby. You each have a place in our hearts, so you see, there is more than enough love for all of us!” 

After that, whenever I felt sad or mad about my little sister, I talked it over with Charli who was always sitting on my bed, always looking at me with his bright blue eyes, and always ready to listen to me.
 
Then I talked to Mommy, too and I always felt better.  She made me think that even though things were different with my little sister here now we could all be happy together.  She said that we would just have to work at it.  I didn’t know what that meant but she said that I would get it, little by little, and that she would help.

That day, I learned what a friend is – someone who listens and someone who helps and someone who makes me feel better. 
Thank you, Charli. And thank you, Mommy!

"It's A Dog!"

By Jeanette Marchand

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Jeanette Marchand, all rights reserved. 

Witch Wanda was celebrating her tenth birthday. She was very excited about her present – a black cat! Every witch received a black cat on her tenth birthday. It was tradition.
 
Wanda had invited all her friends over to show off her beautiful new cat. She could hardly wait to get her present!
 
After playing, ‘pin the legs on the spider’ and filling their bellies full of birthday bat cake and pumpkin juice, it was time for Wanda’s present.
 
“Happy birthday, Wanda,” Dad said, handing her a box. There were small holes all over it.
 
Wanda grabbed the box and ripped off the lid. Inside was a soft, furry – DOG? Wanda’s mouth fell open and her friends started giggling.
 
“What is this?” she asked.
 
“Why, it’s your cat of course, ” Mom said, her pointed hat slipping slightly.  She giggled nervously.
 
“It’s a dog,” Wanda said flatly.
 
“No. See his short pointy ears?” Dad said. “It’s a cat.”
 
Wanda gently flipped his long, floppy ears. “It’s a DOG!” she cried out.
 
“No. See his long silky tail?” Mom said. “It’s a cat.”
 
Wanda pointed to the short, wagging tail. “It’s a DOG!” she wailed.
 
“Look into his beautiful eyes, then you will see,” Dad insisted.
 
Wanda shook her head and sighed. “Okay, ” she said, sticking her round face closer to the animal. She stared deeply into his big brown eyes and…
 
SLURPPPP! The dog licked Wanda’s cheek.
 
“AHHH!” Wanda screamed. “THIS IS A DOG!”
 
Her friends laughed.
 
Wanda’s face burned and her eyes glistened with tears.
 
“Now you listen here, Wanda,” Dad said. “Yes, it is a dog.”
 
Wanda looked at him with disbelief. How could she be a witch with a dog? “I don’t want him,” she told Dad.
 
“Too bad. He’s your dog and that’s that,” Dad said firmly, and walked away. Mom hurried after him.
 
Wanda turned to her friends, who were rolling on the floor, laughing.
 
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
 
“We’re sorry, Wanda,” said Crystal, between giggles. “It’s a dog!”
 
Feeling the sting of hot tears, Wanda raced upstairs to her bedroom.
 
The puppy followed behind.
 
“Get out!” Wanda yelled at the dog.
 
She flung herself on the bed and sobbed loudly.
 
The puppy jumped up on the bed.
 
SLURPPPP! The puppy was licking her ear.
 
“Stop that,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I wanted a cat.”
 
Taking a deep breath, Wanda grabbed her broom and zoomed downstairs. The puppy followed.
 
Wanda zigzagged throughout the house. Her puppy followed close behind.
 
“No flying in the house,” Dad said.
 
“Sorry,” Wanda muttered, sliding off her broom. “We were just playing.”
 
“Does that mean you like your dog?” he asked, hopefully.
 
“Nope,” she replied.
 
“He’ll be a much better playmate than a black cat. We wanted to give you something…different,” Dad said.
 
“Black cats are what ten-year-old witches are supposed to get as a present,” Wanda insisted, as she petted the puppy. “All my friends have one.”
 
“Why don’t you take him to the park?” he suggested. “Your friends said they’d meet you there.”
 
“Okay,” Wanda said. She grabbed her broom. “Come on, Oliver.”
 
“You named him?” Dad asked.
 
“Yup,” she said as they disappeared outside.
 
They zoomed over to the park where her friends were waiting.
 
“You brought the dog?” Crystal asked.
 
Wanda shrugged. “He’s not that bad,” she said. “Watch.”
 
Wanda and Oliver resumed their game of chase. Wanda darted in and out of the playground equipment while the puppy followed close behind.
 
“Who’s going to help you with your spells,” Cindy asked as Wanda flew past her.
 
“My puppy will,” Wanda told her.
 
“A dog can’t give you nine lives,” Crystal informed her.
 
“That’s okay,” Wanda said. “I’ll just have to be extra careful with the dangerous spells.”
 
Wanda liked her dog. He was fun and full of energy – just like her.
 
”You’re lucky, Wanda,” Crystal said, pouting. “I wish I had a puppy.”
 
“Yeah, I am lucky,” Wanda said. “Who needs a cat when you’ve got a great puppy?”

"Claude Henry and the Orphan Duckings"

By Judy Byers

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Judy Byers, all rights reserved. 

Claude Henry woke with a start. WHAT was that noise? He had never heard a sound like this. Well, at least, not this loud! "Shut up!" He yelled.

"Quack, quack! Quack, quack, quack!" Ducks! The noise was closer, now.
"Quack, quack, quack! Quack, quack!" Little yellow ducks were everywhere!

"Oh, PLEASE, little ducks, don't wake up Lola! She was up late last night. She had to sit on the nest all day and night! She needs to sleep this morning!
S-s-s-s-s-h-h-h-h-h-h!" Lola and Claude Henry had taken turns sitting on the nest. What ever happened, those eggs could not get cold. Lola slept with her head tucked under her wing, sitting on the ten eggs that would soon hatch and become ten little turkey chicks. Today was the 28th day! At some point, today, Claude Henry and Lola would become parents.

Claude Henry looked around the barnyard. There was no mother duck! He
got up and looked outside. There was a heavy frost on the ground. The sun was peeping over the mountain, and others were beginning to stir! There was still no mother duck in sight!

"Where is your mother" he asked the little duck closest to him. "Why did she let all six of you out of her sight so early this morning?"

"Quack, quack, quack, quack..." The little duckling was just too little to tell
Claude Henry about the loss of his mother.

The bright sun had now climbed higher in to the wintry sky. Its' rays had begun to warm the frosty grass. There was a slight haze in the air. It looked like smoke rising from the ground.

Claude Henry wanted to get as far away from these ducks as he could. That quacking was giving him a headache. He spread his wings and his tail feathers. He gobbled loudly. "Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!" If I am up, he thought, everybody needs to be up!

Lola stirred slightly, and Claude decided he would take a morning walk. He
walked past the barnyard gate. "Maybe I'll get lucky and locate the mother duck," he said aloud to himself. As he started up the hill, he turned to see six little yellow ducklings in a row following him.

"Oh, no! Go back! I don't need you to follow me! I am not your mother! See, I'm a turkey gobbler! You are baby ducks! NO! NO! Go back! Go back and look for your mother!"

Every time he took a step, the baby ducklings were right behind him. All six of them followed him uphill and down, until he was nearing the barnyard gate on the return trip. How will I explain these ducks to the rest of the turkeys? I'll be the laughing stock again! And today, of all days! Just as I was about to gain some bragging rights and some barnyard status! Maybe after they eat, they
will go away...

"C-L-A-U-D-E H-E-N-R-Y!?!" Lola had awakened to feel something stir
under her feathers, as she sat on the eggs. Once the ten eggs started to hatch,
it was out of their hands, but Lola felt that their father should be there, just the same.

"I'm right here, dear!" he said with all the fatherly authority he could muster. " Is it time, Lola? Are we going to be parents, now? Are we?"

" Yes, I think so." Lola answered. "I believe a couple of them have already hatched!" Lola stood up off the nest, and sure enough, three chicks and seven eggs lay beneath her.

"Where did all the baby ducks come from?" Claude Henry had no answer for her.

"Claude? The baby ducks. Where did they come from?" Lola asked again.

All Claude Henry could think of was his own babies! Three had already hatched and there were seven more to go! He was SO PROUD! One would think he had sat on the eggs himself, the whole time! He drummed his wings,
spread his tail feathers, and began to gobble and strut around the barnyard!
"Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!"

At this point, the baby ducks joined the celebration. "Quack, quack, quack,
quack, gobble, gobble, gobble, quack, quack, gobble." Two large white geese
put their "Honk, honk, honk, honk!" in to the mix, and soon the whole barnyard was abuzz with excitement! All the hens were cackling as well. A big red rooster hopped up on a nearby fence post and crowed several times!

Lola waited patiently for the celebration to die down. At the first quiet moment, she asked again. "Where did the ducks come from, Claude Henry?"

He cleared his throat, shifted to one foot, and said, " I don't know, Lola. they were here when I woke up. THEY woke me up. All that quacking! I have a headache from it!. They followed me on my morning walk. I haven't seen their
mother!"

Lola could feel more "hatching" going on under her feathers, but felt she should keep Claude Henry as calm as possible. She had to sit still, so the other eggs would hatch safely. When they were all hatched, she would rise from the
nest and present Claude Henry with his new family.

"We will find their mother later." Lola promised Claude Henry. "She has to be around here somewhere. A mother duck don't just waddle off and leave six babies alone like that."

"No, I guess not. You are right. She is probably here somewhere. If you don't need me right away, dear," Claude Henry said, "I think I'll take a stroll around the yard, and announce that I am now a daddy."

Lola laughed. "You mean, a 'strut', don't you? Would you please tell all of them that I am a mother, too? I'm a little busy, at the moment."

"Yes, I will tell them you are a mother. And I just might strut a little, too."

As he walked away, the six little ducklings lined up behind Claude Henry. He
was so busy strutting, he didn't see them. Lola watched him strut out of sight, with all of the baby ducks following his every step. Lola wondered how he would explain his "friends" to the other turkeys.

"They are HIS problem," Lola laughed. "I will SOON have ten of my own!"

"A Pig of Ill Repute"

By Kate Robinson

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Kate Robinson, all rights reserved. 

"I have a problem."

Purdue's mother whisked a bowl of muffin batter at the kitchen counter.

"Didn't you hear me? I said I have a problem."  Purdue clattered across the tile floor.

Mrs. Pigg fumbled the bowl and nearly dropped it. She spun around on a delicate hoof. "Purdue, is that you?"

Purdue's older sister Priscilla sat with her homework spread over the kitchen table. She stared in disbelief.

"It's me." Purdue almost whispered, his cheeks burning. "I have a problem."

Mrs. Pigg's face melted in a knowing smile. She put down the bowl and pattered to Purdue's side. She gave him a big hug. "And what might that be, Purdy?"

 "No one wants to play with me."

"Well, no wonder . . ." Priscilla smirked.

"Priss, I'll take care of this." Mrs. Pigg tapped the whisk on the edge of the bowl. "And why do you think no one wants to play with you, Purdue?"

"Well. Gosh. Um." Purdue's cheeks turned even redder. "Ah . . ."

"Purdue," Mrs. Pigg said gently, "You've been an oinker in Mr. Bacon's class. How many times have you had lunch detention for disrupting the classroom? And you spoiled the school play like a big ham. You've treated all your friends like pork chops."

"A pig of ill-repute gets the boot,"  Priscilla mumbled, pretending to write in her workbook.

Mrs. Pigg cleared her throat. "What will you do it about it?"

Purdue stuttered. "Well, um, ah . . . I'll have to think about it."

What will I do about it? Purdue ran back outside, where he'd been throwing rocks at birds. Sparrows perched on the clothesline saw him and flew away.

When he came back in at dusk, he went to his room and shut the door. Mrs. Pigg noticed Purdue's desk light burning past bedtime. She heard a pencil scratching on paper far into the night.

Purdue took extra care dressing the next morning. He washed his face until it gleamed and ironed his best clothes. He scarfed his breakfast – carefully - with a big smile.

"See you later, Mom!" he called, scrambling out the door.

Priscilla looked at Mrs. Pigg with surprise. Usually Purdue wore baggy clothes, slurped his juice, threw his toast crusts across the table and pulled her pigtails. Priscilla ran to catch up to Purdue.

He was boarding the school bus when Priscilla reached the road.

"Good morning, Miss Hock," Purdue said in his politest voice.

Miss Hock was speechless. Purdue usually rushed onto the bus like a whirlwind. Priscilla held up a shiny hoof and shrugged. "It's a new attitude!"

Purdue sat with his hooves to himself all the way to school. When he reached his classroom, he slid a neatly folded piece of paper across Mr. Bacon's desk just before the bell rang.

"Why, thank you, Purdue," Mr. Bacon said. "I greatly appreciate the apology. Would you like to be class leader today?"

Purdue just smiled.

When the class went to the music and drama room, he placed another neatly folded note on Mrs. Snuffle's desk.

"Thank you for your thoughts, Purdue," she said sweetly.

"I'm sorry I acted like a big ham, Mrs. Snuffle. I didn't mean to ruin the school play."

"Purdue, look at me," Mrs. Snuffle said. "Have you considered a career in stand-up comedy? You're pretty good at it!"

Purdue looked up and smiled.

When it was time for recess, Purdue proudly led the class to the playground. He pulled a big bag of snacks from his pack and shared with everyone. "I'm sorry I treated you all like pork chops." Purdue's cheeks reddened again.

All the kids in his class gathered around him. "We forgive you, Purdue. Would you like to play with us after school?"

Purdue's smile arched from ear to ear. "I'm starting off on a new hoof!"

"The Forest Friends and the Ogress"

By Kelly Christiansen

Artwork by Kevin Scott Collier, Author and Illustrator
© 2006 Kelly Christiansen, all rights reserved. 

Olga the Ogress grunted and glared up at the afternoon sun.

"Why is it," she muttered, rubbing her eyes, "that day has to come so early?"

Olga wrinkled her nose, then sneezed and wiped it on one arm, smearing her face with dirt.

"Food," Olga grunted, mostly to herself. "Time for brunch."

She picked up her club, swung it over her shoulder and ambled out of her cave in search of a snack.

Danny the Deer and Ollie the Owl were visiting with Murry the Moose when they heard Olga the Ogress crashing through the forest.

"That sounds like trouble," Danny observed.

"Yes," Ollie agreed wisely. "That sounds like Olga on a rampage."

"We have to find some way," Murry the Moose decided, "to discourage her from coming down here. Any suggestions?"

The three friends thought for a moment, then put their heads together and began to whisper.

Olga the Ogress strode along the forest path, swinging her club at the innocent trees and bushes, singing at the top of her lungs and enjoying the weather.

"Come on out little snack!" Olga called loudly. "I want to eat you!"

Not far away, Sammy the Skunk listened to last minute instructions from Danny the Deer, then nodded.

"Got it," he grinned. "You can count on me."

He eyed a nearby tree, then scurried around behind it.

"Ready?" Murry the Moose asked of Ollie the owl, who nodded.

"Ready here too," Danny the Deer chimed in.

"Then let's do it," Murry the Moose belled. "Get her!"

Ollie the Owl took off from his branch, winging silently through the forest, until he spotted his target. Olga the Ogress had stopped for a moment and was busy picking her teeth with a twig.

"Here I go," he thought, then dived.

Olga looked up just in time to duck and Ollie the Owl sailed over her large, shaggy head.

"Come back here!" She roared, jumping to her feet. "I'll eat you for dinner AND a snack for that!" She swung her massive club furiously and chased madly after the owl.

"Too easy," Ollie the Owl thought. "Let's tire her out a bit."

He banked quickly around a tree and perched on a high branch, just out of Olga's reach. Olga rounded the tree a moment later and bellowed in frustration.

"I'll get you!" She hollered. "Come down here you annoying thing!" She threw her mighty arms around the trunk of the tree and attempted to pull it out of the ground!

Ollie the Owl watched her for several seconds, waiting until it appeared that Olga was beginning to tire, then he fell out of the tree. Spreading his wings, Ollie grabbed her hair in his talons as he sailed past and held on just long enough to give it a good yank. Olga shrieked in pain, then screaming furiously she chased after him, completely forgetting that she had dropped her club on the ground.

Ollie the Owl flew crazily through the forest, weaving around the trees, cutting under low hanging branches and never quite allowing Olga to catch up to him.

At last, after several minutes, he turned one final corner and soared up into the top of a mighty pine tree. Olga the Ogress came into view just a second later.

She was dripping with sweat and panting heavily from the chase. Ollie the Owl hooted once as Olga stopped beneath his tree to look up at him, then stared down at her with large round eyes.

Nearby, Danny the Deer and Murry the Moose nodded at each other, then attacked! Murry lowered his head, pawed the ground and charged, aiming directly for Olga's back side. Danny followed quickly behind him, sharp hooves at the ready in case Murry missed.

Olga never heard a thing. She was too engrossed in glaring up into the tree at Ollie the Owl to notice the thudding of Murry's feet on the ground behind her. Murry's head connected exactly in the middle of Olga's overly-large rump and sent her flying.

Olga the Ogress hit the ground with a resounding thud, skidded several inches along it on her nose and lay there groaning. At that precise moment, Sammy the Skunk peeked out from under a bush. He grinned broadly, then primly stepped out into the open. Marching daintily up to Olga, he turned his back to her, lifted his tail, and let her have a full measure of spray directly in her face!

Olga the Ogress leapt from the ground with a shriek, clawing wildly at her eyes. She dashed madly about the forest, crashing into trees, tripping over bushes and bashing her skull against low hanging branches. The forest friends watched in satisfaction as Olga fled, gasping for breath, from their domain.

"I think," Danny the Deer mused as he listened to the last of her clatter fade to nothing. "That we have seen the last of her."

"I believe you're right," Murry the Moose agreed. "I think we have."

The Forest Friends grinned at each other happily, then went back to a nice, lazy day of nibbling on leaves, secure in the knowledge that skunk smell takes a very long time to wear off. A very long time.