Front Cover by Jennifer Hewitson
2 Drive My Car by Emiliano Migliardo
4 Doodlebug & Dandelion by Pamela Dell
9 City Song by Stephanie P. Marshall
10 Free Ride by M.J. Manning
15 Bug Adventure by Michael Chesworth
16 Way Up in a High-Rise
by Beverly McLoughland
17 A Tired Tire by Jacob Lockett
23 Charles Goodyear Makes an Accidental
Discovery by Marcia Amidon Lusted
24 Strawberry Spread by Susan B. Ouzts
25 The King’s Journey by Betsy Sterman
31 Rhyme Time Riddlers by Sharon R. Porterfield
32 Spider’s Corner and Spider’s Mailbox
34 Ophelia’s Last Word: Ramp Racer Champ
35 Buggy Bulletin
The Fun Zone: Road to Victory
by Stacey Lane
Mind-Buggler: Road Trip
by Maria Neradova
Spider and the Gang by Michael Chesworth
Good gravy, gracious
sakes alive, boys!
? Que` es? What is it?
Whoa!
July/August 2023
Volume 30 Number 6
Stacey Lane Smith, Editor
Emily Cambias, Assistant Editor
Hayley Kim, Assistant Editor
Julie Peterson, Copyeditor
Suzanne Beck, Senior Art Director
Shavan Spears, Designer
Michael Chesworth, Artist, SPIDER bugs
Adrienne Matzen, Permissions Specialist
Grateful acknowledgment is given to the following publishers and copyright
owners for permission to reprint selections from their publications. All possible care
has been taken to trace ownership and secure permission for each selection: Cover
art © 2013 by Jennifer Hewitson; “Drive My Car” text and art © 2018 by Emiliano
Migliardo; “City Song” art © 2004 by Aaron Boyd; “Strawberry Spread” art © 1996
by Aaron Meshon; “The King’s Journey” text © 2007 by Betsy Sterman, art © 2007
by Emma Shaw-Smith; “Rhyme Time Riddlers” art © 2017 by Merrill Rainey; “Road
Trip” art © 2016 by Maria Neradova.
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International Reading
Association
Educational Press Paul A. Witty
Association of America Short Story Award 2008
Golden Lamp Award
Distinguished Achievement Award
 Doodlebug & Dandelion
The Big City
by Pamela Dell Art by Dom Mansell

“THE CITY!” DANDELION Pinkley cried as her

uncle’s little convertible whizzed across the enormous
orange bridge and shot into a nearby parking garage.
“We’re here!” shouted her brother, Doodlebug, as
they all climbed out.
After a scenic drive, Dandelion, Doodlebug, and
their cousin Rudyard were excited to experience a real
big-city adventure.
“Yippee!” Rudyard exclaimed as his dad led them
out into the chaotic city morning.
All around, crowds of people hurried by on foot. Buses
bustled up and down every street. Cars and motorcycles
filled the air with the noise of roaring engines and
Oh, it's just my most
advanced project ever: Here, I'll start it up for you.
the Electric Bug Taxi. Vaya! But there's
!
Ta-da! no noise.

4
 honking horns. A dog yowled. The
air was soaked with a swirl of smells,
too. A lady’s strong perfume. Exhaust
fumes. Chocolate from a candy store.
All the kids’ eyes widened as
Rudyard pointed and asked, “What’s
that?”
An odd-looking vehicle with open
sides stood at the corner. Many people
were getting on.
“That’s a cable car,” Uncle Beasley
said. “It’ll take us to our first destina-
tion—the park where the bison roam.
Quick. Hop on!”
Right, and because it runs on batteries, It should go all around the
there are no exhaust fumes —
smoke or gas from an engine.
None of the kids had ever ridden a
cable car before. It was smaller than
a school bus and colorfully painted.
It ran on cables under the street. The
kids gasped as the cable car hauled
its way up a steep hill, then down
another. But by the end of the ride,
no park had appeared. They had
taken the wrong route.
Uncle Beasley studied his map,
confused. But the kids were thrilled to
be right where they’d ended up—a
place called Fishmonger’s Wharf!
The wharf was packed with people.
Meadow on one charge. Splendid! Arana
~
and I can be your
At five bucks a ride, Maybe you can
first customers.
we're gonna make bank. take us to the
fishmonger's —
fish seller's.
5
 Tourists hung along the wharf’s
railings, staring out at an island in
the bay. Some were fishing. Others
were stuffing their faces with fried
shellfish. Everyone was snapping
photographs. The salty air smelled
like tons of sea creatures must be
lurking in the waters below.
After an hour of exploring every
inch of the wharf, their little group
headed off. As they did, Dandelion
spied a skinny silver statue of a man
in a top hat. She stopped right in front
of it, gazing up. “Wow. It looks so real.”
Isn't he cute?
Oops, sorry guys,
I'm going to call
but Arana's
~
pet
him Pezito!
fish will use up
all my money.
6
“Yep, almost alive!” Uncle Beasley
chuckled.
The kids stared. The statue had
closed eyes and a hand on its cheek.
“It blinked!” Doodlebug blurted out.
“No way,” Dandelion said.
“I think its hand just moved,”
Rudyard whispered. He cautiously
stretched out his own hand.
All at once, the statue’s eyes
sprung open. A giant toothy smile
spread across its face, and it bent at
the waist to stare back at the kids.
The kids all screamed—then
No problem, Ophelia. Since
Attend! Bug Taxi!
Yoo-hoo!
it's our first ride, it's free.
Over here!
W hat!
laughed in relief.
The silver statue made a silent machinery came from a construction
laughing motion and winked. Then site. Flocks of pigeons and seagulls
the statue—really a living person— swept overhead. Some landed on the
went perfectly still again. sidewalks, pecking for tasty crumbs.
Doodlebug was thrilled. “That’s Everything seemed to be in a frenzy.
the best thing I’ve seen all day!” he As they walked along, Dandelion
said. “What’s next?” stopped to gaze into a shop window
Next was lunch in the heart of filled with treasures: tiny jade dragons,
Chinatown. Uncle Beasley took them fans painted with peacocks, a lucky
to a food truck there, owned by his old charm shaped like a black-and-gold
buddy Ming Shan. The kids wolfed kitty. Dandelion was entranced. But
down soft steamed bao while the adults when she turned to tell the others
drank strong tea and caught up. Then to come look, they were nowhere
off the Pinkley crew went again. to be seen.
It was now late afternoon, but
the city was still in its usual uproar.
The sounds of blasting drills and big
Mmm . . . warm bao — bread buns
filled with meat or vegetables,
originally from China. We're on it, Miro!
I need you to deliver ziss
order to zee Slug brothers.
Vite! Quick!
7
 Dandelion’s heart thumped hard.
All around were people but none
she knew.
“Uncle Beasley!” she wailed as
loud as she could.
Her gaze swept the street and
suddenly, there they all were, rushing
toward her. Dandelion exhaled deeply
as the four of them crunched together
in a big group hug.
The city had been a blast, but she
was ready to go home. They all were.
H HH
That evening, Doodlebug and
Yo, dude, we ain't got no five bucks.
You're gonna have to hit up
Miro for that, dude.
DRAT!
8
Dandelion sat in lawn chairs in their
backyard. The sun was setting. They
could hear mourning doves cooing
softly. Crickets were beginning to
chirp. The air smelled sweet and
clean.
“The city was great,” Doodlebug
yawned.
Dandelion sighed as the quiet
sunk into her bones. “It was,” she
agreed. “But I’m really glad to be
home.”
And Doodlebug felt just the same.
And we don't even get any yummy
warm bao for ourselves!
City Song
by Stephanie P. Marshall
Art by Aaron Boyd

City song—busy beat,

Syncopation in the street.
Sunrise washes wispy rays
Through the morning traffic maze.

Skyward buildings, stately steeple.

Dogs on leashes walk their people.
Bagels bake in sidewalk shops.
Eat one at the subway stop.

Buses rumble, big trucks pound,

Saxes hum, sirens sound.
Bikers pedal, workers hurry,
Vendors holler, pigeons scurry.

Over harbors, bridges stretch.

Sunny spaces—kids play catch.
Feed the pigeons, they will stay.
Run and wave, they fly away.

With the sunset, neon lights,

Jazzy notes, dizzy heights.
Through the night and all day long,
Listen—feel the city song.

9
 Free
Ride
Good day, gentlebugs. Might I
inquire how much is your fare —
the price to ride a taxi, bus, train,
plane, or other vehicle—
to my yoga class?
10
T HOUGH I’M NINE, Mama lets me ride the bus
alone because I’m responsible and I don’t do nonsense.
The boy getting on here at the trailer park is older than
me, a teenager maybe. Slumped with long yellow hair
like baby chick fluff blown over his pale blue eyes. Hands
stuffed in his jean jacket pockets. He doesn’t bring them
out to pay his fare. He speaks to the driver so low I can’t
hear. But riders up front, adults, are frowning. The driver
waves at the boy like he’s shooing a fly and then jerks a
thumb to indicate he should go sit down.
Five bucks.
Cash only.
by M.J. Manning
Art by Kristin Abbott
text © 2023 by M.J. Manning, art © 2023 by Kristin Abbott
 The boy walks past me, eyes on the I don’t know why he didn’t pay.
untied sneakers a size too big for him. It’s none of my business why he
Right behind me, I hear a man’s didn’t pay.
whisper, rough as sandpaper, loud I reach deep in my pocket for the
enough to be caught by all our ears. plastic baggie that holds the change
“Trailer park people never have the I’ve earned from chores and returning
money.” bottles to the corner store for deposits.
A woman’s voice, sharp as a needle,
answers, “They always expect a free
ride. And they get it, more’s the pity.”
I don’t understand what they mean
about “trailer park people.” I like
the trailer park. There’s a baseball
diamond and a swing set. Some of
the trailer homes have gardens lively
with flowers and plump with growing
pumpkins. Looks like a fun place to
trick-or-treat come Halloween. I don’t
see any reason for these grown folks to
scowl at it or a boy who lives there.
I glance around my seat, real
quick. I see the boy duck his head,
scowling under his chick-fluff hair,
his nose bright pink.
I know that feeling. I know about
being stabbed with mean words.
Because Daddy’s Black and Mama’s
Irish.
Silly me! I have forgotten my
coin purse. More's the pity —
that's disappointing or too bad. More we ain't getting.
Ya. Pity.

11
 The driver glares at me because
I’m out of my seat while the bus is
in motion. I whisper, “For that one.
In the back.” The dollar in quarters
clatters and clinks down the chute.
The machine beeps to say a child’s
fare has been paid.
The driver stares at me and raises
one thick brown eyebrow. The jut of
his chin tells me to go back to my seat.
I don’t look at anybody. When I
sit down, I hear the seat behind me
We've been driving all morning and
haven't made one plugged nickel.
Look! There's somebuggy waving!
12
squeak as someone leans forward.
In my ear is a rusty-saw-blade voice.
“Don’t expect him to be grateful.”
That’s not why I did it. I wasn’t
even thinking that. Don’t any of
them know how it feels to have
empty pockets? My folks used to all
the time, till Daddy got a new job.
I feel angry eyes all on me. Why
are they angry? Even when I get off
at my stop, I still don’t understand
why they’re angry.
 Two weeks later, it’s raining fit
to drown the town. I should have
said yes when my best friend Amelia’s
mama, Mrs. Pham, asked, “Would
you like me to drive you home, Bree?”
It wasn’t but a drizzle then, nothing
to mind, so I said, “No thank you.
A walk to the bus stop would be
real pleasant.”
It was, until the wind roared to
life, whipping branches and letting
loose the rain with a vengeance. By
the time the bus pulls up, my wavy
black hair is a wet curtain in my
face. I stand at the fare box, dripping,
digging in my pockets for my plastic
baggie of change.
It’s empty.
Only then I remember Amelia
and I spent it all seeing the matinee.
For the movie and popcorn and root
beer. I forgot to save some for the bus.
Passengers’ eyes narrow at my
empty hand. Their nostrils flare.

Sure thing, Thistle and Keet.

Help, Bill! Can you get Hop in and buckle up! It's way on the other side
us to the matinee — of the Meadow! We'll have to
daytime performance The movie starts drive with a vengeance —
in a theater—pleeez? in four minutes! with extreme energy.

13
 Someone snorts. Someone shakes
her head and mutters.
I look at the driver helplessly, at
his sharp eyes under his thick, bushy
brown eyebrows.
“I can’t pay,” I whisper.
His voice is astonishingly soft and
full. “You already did.”
His hand lifts. He pushes a button,
and the fare machine beeps, a beep
that says the fare for a child has been
paid. The smallest but warmest smile
Punch it!
14
in the world spreads on his face. He
nods to indicate I should sit down.
I hear disapproving murmurs
behind me. It’s only then that I
notice the sign that says what things
aren’t allowed on the bus. No spitting.
No eating or drinking. No playing
music. No free rides.
I look at the back of the driver’s
head as I realize that two weeks ago
he broke the rules by letting the boy
ride without paying. Maybe an angry
passenger could have complained
to his boss. Maybe he could have
gotten into trouble. But he did it
anyway.
A similar small but heartfelt
and grateful smile gathers on my
own lips.
From now on, I’m always going
to carry two fares worth of money
in my pocket.

15
16
I like living way up in a high-rise far from the rumble of buses and cars—
especially at night when I fall asleep next to the quiet of the moon and stars.

text © 2023 by Beverly McLoughland

Art by Noah Flynn
WAY UP IN A HIGH-RISE
by Beverly McLoughland
 A Tired Tire

F ARMER DAISY DROVE home from her fields. Her

truck hit a pothole.
“Ow!” complained Rollie, the truck’s front wheel.
“These holes sure are terrible!”
BAM! The other front tire, Clutch, hit one, too.
“I’m tired of it,” Rollie whined. “Bumpy roads day in
and day out.”
“Don’t forget dusty,” coughed Spokes, a rear wheel.
“What I wouldn’t give for smooth, slick roads,” Rollie
said. “Perfect roads would make for such a perfect life.”
Rollie took a gander at the countryside that stretched
before him. He sighed. Bad roads everywhere.
Daisy pulled into her garage. She washed each tire and
inspected each for cuts and scrapes. She did this every night.
And I think something happened
when we hit that pothole — hole in a
Well, they made it in time, but road caused by weather or overuse.
we forgot to get our money. I'll take a gander — look.
by Jacob Lockett
Art by Cristina Dan
text © 2023 by Jacob Lockett, art © 2023 by Cristina Dan 17
 “Get a good rest, fellas!” Daisy
said. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the
city. My sister, Poppy, is throwing a
huge shindig for her birthday.”
“What’s the city?” Rollie asked
his human, inflating with curiosity.
“Not the country. That’s for sure,”
she explained. “Wait and see.”
They headed out the next
morning, putting the pedal to the
metal. The farms, fields, and hills
that Rollie had known all his years
disappeared. Skyscrapers, bridges,
and sidewalks replaced them.
“Wheel, I’ll be!” Rollie hooted
in wonder.
Rollie discovered that his ride
wasn’t very bumpy anymore. could hardly travel in a straight
“City roads are smooth!” he line. He was too pumped up.
cried, delighted. “No holes!” The truck turned the corner and
His buddies agreed. arrived at Poppy’s apartment, which
“Don’t forget clean!” laughed Rollie noticed sat above a small
Spokes, his treads gunk-free. mechanic’s shop.
Rolling around in the city was City cars were parked next to
quite different from rolling around Rollie, their tires clean—not mucky
in the country. No bumps! No or yucky. Rollie longed to live like
humps! No crud! No mud! those tires.
For the rest of the trip, Rollie Right then, Rollie made up his
Yep. We tore off some treads — Good thing Sam put a Pardon me, buggies.
parts of a wheel that touch spare tire in his design. Is your taxi for hire?
the ground when it rolls.

18

mind. No more country living for
him. He had a hankering for city
life.
Daisy climbed out, holding gifts.
“Y’all are doing such a fine job! I’ll
be back at 4:00.”
“Wait!” Rollie sputtered.
“Yeah, Rollie?” Daisy always
listened to her tires.
“I’m revving with something
to say!”
“Oh?” Daisy’s eyebrows shot up.
“I’m all ears.”
Rollie took in some air. “I want
to be a city tire!”
Daisy nearly dropped her gifts.
Rollie said, “The roads here are
so . . . perfect. It’s my dream to stay.”
“I’m sorry,” Daisy said, shocked.
“After the party, we’re heading
back. The country is our home.”
“No pressure. I can just stay in
the city.”
Daisy looked deflated.
“Just drop me off at the mechanic’s
shop,” Rollie offered. “I can hunker
down there until a city human buys
me.”
Daisy stared over at the shop.
“Is this dream important to you?”
“More than anything!” Rollie
almost burst. “City life would be a
perfect life.”
Daisy kneeled down. “You’ve
been such a good tire all these years.
If you want to stay in the city, I’ll
help.”
Rollie rumbled with excitement.
“But are you sure you won’t
Cause I sure have a hankering —
strong, nonstop longing — to
It sure is! visit my cousins in Tick Town.
19
 change your mind?” Daisy asked.
“I’ve always tried to take good
care of you. I’ve cleaned and
patched you up whenever you got
hurt.”
“My mind won’t change,” Rollie
said flatly.
Rollie was removed from the
truck. Hub, the spare, took over his
old spot.
Rollie, with Daisy behind him,
went into the shop. Daisy told the
mechanic about Rollie’s dream.
“He’s a little used, but I’ll take
him,” the mechanic said.
Sadly, Daisy rubbed Rollie.
“Goodbye, my friend. I hope this
new life is everything you’ve ever
wanted.”
Daisy left, a tear racing down
her cheek. Rollie zipped to the tire
rack. The only other tire there had
flawless, shiny rims.
“Name’s Axel!” he said. “Fresh
off the factory floor. Waiting for a
new human, too, slick?”
Rollie’s smile was as wide as his
rim. “I reckon I’ll get one soon!”

All set, Mister Tick. Hop right in. Hold on there, cowboy! Tick Town is
a really long drive. How much do you
reckon — think — it's worth?

20
 He couldn’t wait to motor into a
bump-free, clean, perfect life.
Time ticked by. Customers came
and went.
A couple stopped. “Look at that
old one!” the man roared with laugh-
ter, pointing at Rollie. “If that was my
tire, I’d kick him to the curb fast!”
How rude! Rollie thought, shifting
uncomfortably. Daisy was never rude
to me.
A mother and her son looked
over Rollie. “He’s too worn,” the
mother said. “The other tire is in
better shape.” mechanic with frustration. “He’s
Worn? The word punctured not even new.”
Rollie. Daisy always called me “I’m afraid so.”
beautiful, he thought. She groaned. “OK, I’ll take him.
Axel was lifted away. “Good He’ll work until I get a brand-new
luck, slick!” he whispered. one. Then he’s off to the junkyard.”
Now, Rollie was the only tire left. Junkyard? Rollie thought, auto-ly
A woman came in. She looked offended. Daisy would never, ever
around Daisy’s age. take me to the junkyard, not in a
“I know she’s the one!” Rollie million years.
squealed softly. “I can feel it deep in Rollie’s mind spun as he realized
my rubber.” something. Maybe there was more
The woman examined Rollie. to life than perfect roads.
“Is this your last tire?” she asked the Rollie slammed the brakes on his

Would $25 be enough? T W E NT Y-F IVE BUCKS! Wait!

GE T IN, T ICK!

21
 city dream. He was going back to
Daisy. The clock in the mechanic’s
shop struck 4:00. He hoped he was
not too late!
Rollie made tracks, speeding
from the shop before the woman
could grab him. He rolled right in
front of Daisy’s truck as she was
about to drive away.
“Rollie?” Daisy exclaimed,
coming out to meet him. “Aren’t
you staying?”
“Nope!” he screeched, exhausted.
“The country is my home! You’re
my home.”
“Oh, Rollie!” Daisy cried, hugging
him. She fixed Rollie back to the
truck, where he belonged.
The family then hit the road. The
skyscrapers, bridges, and sidewalks
disappeared. Farms, fields, and hills
replaced them.
As Rollie tossed and turned on the
rough country road, he smiled. He was
still tired of all the dirt and bumps. But
he was happy. He was with Daisy.

Well, I don't have the money on me.

We will need the But my cousins will gladly pay
money now, please. you when we get there.

T W E NT Y-F IVE BUCKS!

You heard the tick!
22 LE T'S ROLL!
Charles Goodyear
Makes an Accidental
Discovery
IT’S HARD TO imagine a car that
doesn’t have rubber tires. But without
the discoveries of Charles Goodyear,
we wouldn’t have them.

Before Charles Goodyear began

experimenting with rubber, it was
known only as a sticky substance
that came from the sap of the
rubber tree. In cold weather, it was
brittle. In hot weather, it melted
into a gooey, soft mess. Goodyear
knew that there had to be a way
to make rubber useful, but how?
In 1834, Goodyear began
experimenting, but nothing
worked. Finally, in 1844, he had
a lucky accident. He had started
adding sulfur to the rubber. One
day, a fistful of sticky, gummy
rubber landed on a hot stove. Part
of the charred rubber was dry and
springy. This was the first example
of weatherproof rubber. The This process of making rubber is called
combination of heat and sulfur “vulcanization,” after the Roman god
added to the rubber made it able to of fire, Vulcan. With vulcanized rubber,
tires could be made that wouldn’t melt
withstand extreme temperatures. in summer heat or break apart in winter
cold. The first rubber, air-filled tire was
invented in 1911.
by Marcia Amidon Lusted
Art by Chris Hsu
23
 Strawberry Spread
SUMMER MEANS STRAWBERRIES! Surprise your family and
friends with this healthy treat.

What You’ll Need:

1 teaspoon unflavored gelatin potato masher
1 tablespoon water large saucepan
2 cups fresh or thawed frozen strawberries wooden spoon
1 tablespoon sugar container with lid
large mixing bowl

What to Do:
1. Put the gelatin in the bowl. Pour water over the gelatin.
Then set aside.
2. With the potato masher, mash the strawberries in the
saucepan.
3. Stir the sugar into the mashed strawberries.
4. Cover the saucepan. Ask an adult to cook it on low heat for
5 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent burning.
5. Pour the strawberry mixture into the bowl of gelatin and
water. Stir. Then mash again with the potato masher. Cool
slightly.
6. Pour into the container and refrigerate.
7. Enjoy on your favorite bread.

by Susan B. Ouzts
24 Art by Aaron Meshon
 The King’s Journey
T HERE WAS ONCE a king who
ruled over vast lands. Every summer, he
journeyed round his kingdom to visit
his people.
A long, hard journey it was. For
many days, the royal coach jolted
along a bumpy road that wound
through forests, inched over hills,
and splashed across streams. Always
the king arrived home weary and
worn.
At the end of one such trip, he
sighed and said, “Oh, what a fine
reward I would give to anyone who
could shorten my journey.”
Sir Highfeather Bragg, the vainest
man in the kingdom, pictured himself
wearing a great glittering medal. “What
you need is a new coach, Sire,” he
said. “I will have one made for you.”
The following July, Sir High-
feather drove an elegant open
carriage to the palace. Narrow
and sleek it was, and polished
so smooth that it scarcely
rippled the air as it moved.

Turn left here.

by Betsy Sterman
Art by Emma Shaw-Smith
25
 A pair of lively horses danced over
the cobblestones as they pulled it.
The king, who had traveled only in
his heavy royal coach, was amazed.
“This is the swiftest carriage in
all the land,” Sir Highfeather said
proudly. “A dozen men worked a
dozen months to make speed its very
name. It will surely shorten your
journey, Sire.”
So they set out. Sir Highfeather
sent the carriage skimming along like
a bright streak, and soon it outsped the
wind itself.
“Take care,” the king cried as he
held tight to his crown. “The road is
rough!”
But Sir Highfeather snapped his
whip at the horses and cried, “Faster!”
Before long, the wheels spun out
of control on the rutted road. The
carriage overturned, and Sir High-
feather and the king were tossed to
the ground. The horses broke from palace and once more set off in the
their harnesses and ran off before slow but safe royal coach. For many
the king and Sir Highfeather could days, he jolted round his kingdom
brush the dust from their eyes. until he arrived back at the palace,
The king stumbled back to the aching and weary.
Yikers! This is one rutted road —
bumpy road with long, narrow And we don't have
cuts made by wheels. another spare tire.

26

“Ohhh,” he groaned. “What a
great reward I would give to anyone
who could shorten my journey.”
Lord Puffpurse, the richest man
in the kingdom, pictured himself
You boys wait here, and I'll be right
out with your money.
surrounded by great piles of gold.
“What you need is a new road, Sire,”
he said. “I will have one built for
you.”
That very day, Lord Puffpurse set
hundreds of men to work.
With hundreds of axes, they cut
down trees.
With hundreds of shovels, they
dug into the earth.
With hundreds of planks and
lengths of rope, they built high,
swaying bridges over rivers and
streams.
They pried hundreds of rocks out
of mountains to make hundreds of
paving slabs that fit smoothly into
place.
The next summer, Lord Puffpurse
announced that the grand new road
was ready. “It slashes through forests,
slices through hills, and leaps over
streams,” he said. “This road will
certainly shorten your journey, Sire!”
The journey began pleasantly, but
before long, the bright day turned
into a scowling storm. The coach
lurched wildly, for now there were
27
 no sheltering trees to block the wind or stop piles of mud from
sliding down bare hillsides. The bridges were in ruins, their
planks ripped apart and their ropes whipping in the wind.
“Turn back!” the king shouted to his coachman, and
they continued the journey on the old road.
When at last the weary king reached the palace, he
moaned, “Ohhh, can this journey never be shortened for me?”
Now at this time and in this place, there lived a boy
named Jack. He was shabby and plain, with clothes full of
patches and a stomach pinched with hunger. But his eyes
shone with a merry light, and he had a smile that crept
into every corner of his face.
When the next July came, up stepped Jack, leading an
old brown horse.
“Come with me, Sire,” he said with a smile. “Together we
will make the shortest journey you have ever had.”
The king’s guards began pushing Jack away.
“Stop!” ordered the king, for he liked Jack’s merry look.
“Can you truly do such a thing?” he asked.
“Truly,” Jack promised.
“Then I will go with you,” the king said, and they set
out together.
As soon as they left the palace, Jack began to tell a story. A
small story it was but so funny that the king laughed and
asked for another. On they went with the king leaning close
to hear Jack’s voice. Each day, in calm weather or storm,
Jack had stories to tell.

We're finally going to be At last! I won't have to look

rolling in money, Bill. shabby — dressed sloppily in old
clothes. I can buy new socks!

28
 He told of flame-roaring dragons, of thundering
giants and cunning trolls, of pixies and fairies and
elves. Always the king wanted more, and always Jack’s
words tumbled on. He wove tales of wishes and spells,
of potions and cures, of magic and mischief and dreams.
Up hills and down hollows, all around the kingdom
the two went while Jack’s stories swirled round them.
Still the king asked for more.
So Jack told of people—of simple
folks rewarded and clever rogues
undone, of persons small and
weak winning over bullies
who mocked them.

They aren't home. They

Arg! My cousins are rogues — must have gone to
buggies who don't tell the truth the dog show.
and cause trouble.

29
 Then one day, just as a story ended,
Jack stopped.
“Look, Sire,” he said, pointing. “Your
own palace lies ahead. You have
reached the end of your journey!”
“So soon?” cried the king. “What magic
is this?”
Jack only smiled, and as the truth
dawned on him, the king began to laugh.
“What a wise lad you are!” he said.
“You have shortened my journey with
words! I will give you a fine medal and
as many bags of gold as your horse can
carry!”
“Thank you, Sire,” Jack said. “But I
need no honors or riches.”
So plain Jack he remained, though
never again did hunger pinch his stomach,
for the king ordered that there always be
ample food for him.
In time, a fine new road was built and
also a sturdy new coach, so whenever
the king went journeying, he went in
comfort. But still he always took Jack
with him, for it was stories that truly
shortened his journey.

Spider, can we
drive home now? Nope. The battery just died.

30
 Rhyme Time Riddlers
EACH OF THESE pictures represents a two-word rhyme.
Can you guess them all?

_ _L U
B _ E_ ____
__U
___ _____

_F _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _K
_ _____
_ _ _ _P _ _

___D
_ _____
_ _ _ _ _Y _ _ _ _ _ _
S ___ ____
by Sharon R. Porterfield
Art by Merrill Rainey Answers on page 35
31
 Missing Sock
Lyla G., age 7
Ocean City, Maryland
My Sock that Traveled Somewhere
I once had a pair of socks, and they were my
favorite pair. One night, I was going to a party
and got dressed in clothes that matched my
socks. So I got one out. I looked in my drawer
everywhere, and my other sock was missing.
My mom said, “It’s almost seven o’clock,
sweetie! We need to get going.”
I asked Mom to give me a few more
minutes, and I looked in my laundry basket and
saw a note that read:
Dear Human,
I traveled to Sockland for ten days. I’ll be
back on the twenty-first, soon. I needed a break
from your smelly feet, and I am traveling.
P.S. Find some other pair!
Olive W., age 6
Chatham, New York
The Runaway Sock
Once upon a time, there was a white sock
in the washer. Suddenly, the washer opened, and
the sock jumped out!
“Sock, where are you going? Are you running
away, so I can’t wear you?” The sock just kept
running. “What about the other one of you?”
The sock opened the door and dashed out.
He ran out the gate. He said to himself, “I’m
getting a little hot.”
Luckily, there was a pond nearby. Far
away, there were mountains. The white sock
jumped into the pond.
After swimming, he was very cold. He saw
a blazing campfire; he was heading toward it,
but when a snake slithered out from the woods,
he backed up. The snake backed up, too, and
then slithered away.
The white sock just skipped on. He saw a
little cottage and walked up to the door. He lay
down on a bed and fell fast asleep.
Lydia O., age 7
Manassas, Virginia
The Sock Mystery
One day, Lydia opened her drawer to see
if her socks were still there. A few days ago,
Rufus, the family dog, had slobbered all over her
socks. When she looked in the drawer, there was
only one sock. Lydia had searched the bedroom
all morning!
Meanwhile, Rufus, the dog, came into the
room looking mischievous.
Lydia said, “Have you seen my sock?”
Rufus just licked her.
Lydia saw dog slobber all over the hall.
She followed the dog slobber to the doghouse.
Lydia saw Rufus in her sock! He had stretched
the sock and gotten inside of it. Lydia gave
Rufus a scolding!
Meredith C., age 8
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
Gym Day Sock
On a Wednesday night, a little boy and girl,
whose names were Jonah and Lillyan, had gym
tomorrow, but Jonah couldn’t find his sock.
“Where is my sock? I cannot participate in
gym class without my sock!” cried Jonah.
Lillyan rushed over to try to help. All night,
they looked for Jonah’s sock, but they couldn’t
find it. It was bedtime, and it was nowhere to
be seen.
They woke up at seven o’clock but still
couldn’t find the sock. Jonah was getting worried
he would have to sit out of gym. Jonah started
to cry. Then he heard chewing and went into the
living room. He saw his dog eating his sock.
“You don’t see anything,” said his dog.
“My dog can talk!” Jonah said quickly with a
surprised face, and he forgot all about that sock.
Ava N., age 9
Topeka, Kansas
The Missing Sock
Once there was a little girl named Willaray.
Willaray wanted to make a sock puppet, so
she took one of her own socks and put it on
her crafts table. She drew eyes and a nose on
the sock and called her new sock puppet Miss
America. Willaray and Miss America went
everywhere together.

Dear Ophelia, Dear Sonya,

I love your magazine and the comics on
the bottom of it. I get them in the mail, and
my sisters are like, “Can I look at this after
you?” That’s how much I love them.
Virginia Eastburn, age 9
Shoreview, Minnesota
Dear Everybuggy,
Could you please adopt Cream?
She’s a banana boat python. She’s
super affectionate and loves everyone.
She only drinks hot cocoa. Please don’t
worry. She doesn’t eat bugs.
I love this magazine, even though I’m
getting a little old for it. I hope you like
Cream! Have a good day.
Alice Harrington, age 11
Bath, Maine
I love the magazines so much. I read
them every day! Why does Bill like candy so
much? Say hi to Thistle for me.
Lilian Loeckle, age 8
Dallas, Texas
Dear Spider and Everybuggy,
Is Sam a caterpillar? Thistle, can
you do a somersault? Miro, you’re so
funny! What’s Miro cooking? I love the
contests! How many sweet teeth does
Bill have? Bill should stop eating candy
and ride on a horse!
I would be glad to invite you guys over
to my house, but I don’t have any bug-sized
stuff.
J. D., age 7
Wallingford, Pennsylvania

Dear Ophelia, Hi, Lilian and J. D.! Yes, Sam is a

Will you take care of Carrots, my horse? caterpillar, and I can do a somersault.
She will only eat carrot food, like carrot juice Miro is cooking bao. Bill has one giant
and carrot cake. Also, this is my first time sweet tooth, plus a whole sweet mouth,
writing to you. and sweet stomach, and sweet brain!
Gemma D’Amico, age 9 Love,
Pattersonville, New York Thistle
32
 One day, Miss America went missing. Willaray
cried and cried until Willaray took one of her other
socks and put it on her crafts table. She drew eyes
and a nose on the sock and called him Pete.
Pete and Willaray went everywhere together
until Pete fell into the sewer.
Willaray cried and cried until she asked her
ever heard your owner say that the
other sock in a pair suddenly
disappeared? Well, this is the place
where all those socks go.”
I then heard the faint echo of my
owner saying, “My favorite sock is
missing!”

Con
dad for one of his socks. He gave her a new
sock, so Willaray did the whole thing again.

tes
Willaray didn’t lose this sock puppet this time.
Her
Haadi N., age 10 1. e are t
You he o raw a p
D
tR
Westlake, Ohio r
gua entry ly ru n
ule ictu
s
r l e re o
A Missing Sock a d i a m u s : fab
2. n d n , s t usy
I was squished between a load of clothes,
Be /or on author be sig city
hot air gusting while the dryer went round and sur l i n e i z i n n e d .
a n e
d ad to in nd s its p y aa g b
round. 3. c p
You dre a u a
Suddenly, I found myself in a huge city with
s lude y ying i blicat rent o
many other socks walking around. A sign read: We r entry s. our t’s y ion r
Welcome to Sock Land. Nov will pu must a com our in p legal
p o w r i
I noticed all the socks were different. Some Em emb blis rr l e te n n id nt
had polka dots and stripes, and others were ail y er/D h ou ive by ame ea.
sen r J
plain. d it our en ecemb favori uly 25 , ag
e,
I also saw many shops, banks, and to S try er 2 tes , 2
pid to sp 023 in th 023.
Cor ider@ ssue o
skyscrapers. But where was I? I decided to ask er’s i e
a shop employee about this strange place. I ner cric f Sp
O. B ketm
approached one of them and asked, “What is , P. ider
this place?” ox 3 edia .
The sock chuckled and answered, “You 00, .com
Per
know how people are always complaining that
u, I , or
their socks disappear in the dryer? Have you L6
135
4.

Dear Everybuggy, Dear Everybuggy, Dear Spider,

I get Spider, and I love to do the projects.
Can you please adopt Mr. Grum P.? He is
half muffin and half bear. He only eats honey,
so don’t feed him anything else or . . . Well,
bye. I see that people put their favorite color,
so mine is teal or black.
Sophia Amell, age 10
Lisbon, New York
Dear Everybuggy,
Can you adopt Moondrop and Sundrop?
Sundrop is a coyote, and Moondrop is a
wolf. Careful with Sundrop! She is going
to have cubs. Moondrop eats gems and
minerals. Sundrop eats sunlight or other
animals. Her cubs will eat meat and pork
chops. Please put them in the comics!
Moondrop came from Midnight Cave, and
Sundrop came from Emerald and Ruby Cave.
Can you adopt Lugia and Litwick? They are
about to have two cubs named Crystal and
Midnight.
Heather, age 7
La Palma, California
Hi! I love to read your magazines. My
favorite part is . . . can you guess? You
guys! I love the funny stuff you buggies do.
Oh, I was wondering if you dear buggies
would please adopt Blazi, Daisy, Flower,
Mazy, and Duke. They only eat grass, except
for Mazy. She eats grass and buggies! I am
just joking! She eats grass and carrots.
Elayna, age 10
Puyallup, Washington
Dear Sonya,
How are you? Nobody ever writes to
you. Are you a dragonfly? What’s your
favorite color? Mine is yellow. Will you
adopt Dot and Silver Streak? Please? They
are super friendly and do not eat buggies.
Dot eats marshmallows and crackers. Also,
make sure she has a bubble bath every
Saturday. If she doesn’t, she will turn
everything into ice. Silver Streak will only
eat rainbows and clouds. She is an FBI
agent. Dot is a unicorn, and Silver Streak is
a dolphin that can live out of water. What’s
your favorite animal? Mine is a dolphin.
Aleezah Peeples, age 8
Upper Darby, Pennsylvania
Hi! I think you (or Bill) might be my favorite
buggy. What’s Keet? Can you look after Boo
for a day or two? He is a two-year-old dog.
His favorite food is marshmallows (jumbo
size), and he usually rides on a hoverboard/
surfboard. Never put him on a leash, or he’ll
get really sad. Miro, what’s your favorite food?
Sonya, what’s your favorite color? My favorite
food is Bolognese. For color, it’s blue. See y’all!
Wyatt Brown, age 9
Fairfax, Virginia
Dear Aleezah and Wyatt,
I am a damselfly who likes jade green
and all animals, including dolphins and
dogs. Keet is a little cricket. Miro favors
mousse au chocolat. Thanks for Dot, Silver
Streak, and Boo.
Sonya
Send your letters to
Spider’s Mailbox
P.O. Box 300
Peru, IL 61354
Please write your complete name, age, and address
on your letter! You can also send us mail
at spider@cricketmedia.com.
33
 ,
OPHELI A S LAST WORD

RAMP RACER CHAMP

BUILD A SUPER slope. Then challenge your pals to a high-speed game.
WHAT YOU’LL NEED:
big cardboard box
small cardboard box
duct tape
scissors
wrapping paper
paper cups
marker
little toy cars
racing pals
WHAT TO DO:
1. Tape shut the small box. Flatten the big box. Tape over the flat box’s gaps
from its flaps.
2. Tape the flat box to the small box at an angle to make a ramp.
3. Cover the ramp with wrapping paper. Tuck and tape the wrapping paper
underneath the boxes.
4. Cut a cup in half longways. Line up the bottom of a cup half with the bottom
of the ramp, and tape down. Keep cutting and taping until there’s a line of
cups all the way across the ramp.
5. Write a 3 on both corner cups. Write a 2 on the cups next to them. Write
a 1 on the rest.

HOW TO PLAY:
Each racer holds on to a car at the top of the ramp. The group calls, “Start your
engines!” and releases their cars. If your car drops completely into a cup, you
get the points on that cup. If your car zooms off the ramp, gets stuck on top of
the cups, or only goes partway in, you get no points. Keep playing. The first racer
to earn 10 points wins!

e,
L ov lia
e
Oph
34
 Buggy Bulletin
e front tire say to
Q. What did th
n it was time
the back tire whe
to go?
A. See you a-ro
und.
Wheel Whiz Send your fa rit
vo e jokes to
Answers to Beside or below its picture, write edia.com!
spider@cricketm
ROAD TRIP
which vehicle each wheel goes on.

Mind-Buggler
4
1

R
5
2
Answers to
lers
T Rhyme Time Ridd
K
BLUE SHOE
3

S MOUSE HOUSE
G WET PET
FAT CAT
STUCK TRUCK
FUNNY BUNNY
LOUD CLOUD
SORE DOOR

Answers: 1 CAR, 2 TRAIN, 3 SKATE, 4 CARRIAGE, 5 BIKE

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35
 Road to Victory
by Stacey Lane Art by Ray Sing
A game for t wo players
RACE TO BE the first to finish constructing a rad racetrack.
Watch out for wild twists and turns on your journey.
Examples of Ways the
What You’ll Need: Road Pieces Line Up
scissors
What to Do:
1. Cut out the square road pieces on the left and the two
game boards below.
2. Put the road pieces facedown in a pile, and mix them up.
Shuffle the two game boards facedown, and set one in
front of each player. Examples of Ways the
Road Pieces DO NOT Line Up
3. Turn the game boards over. Whichever player has the game
board with the red race car goes first.
4. On your turn, flip over one piece from the pile. Add it to
either end of your track so that the sides of the road line
up.
Directions continued on the back.

game
boards
5. Keep taking turns with the goal of
building a racetrack that goes around Examples of Connected
Winning Racetracks
your game board and then connects.
6. If your winding road gets too off course,
you may choose during any turn to
put exactly three pieces from the ends
of your track back into the pile. If there
is no place to put your newest piece,
you must put three end pieces back.
7. The winner is the first player to connect
a racetrack around a game board. If all
the pieces in the pile are gone but
neither twisty track is connected yet,
both players must put ten pieces from
the ends of their tracks back into the pile.
Then mix up the pile, and keep
playing until someone builds
a wonderous winning
racetrack.
 SONYa ’s
Road

silly city scenes.

July/August 2023 Volume 30 Number 6 cricketmedia.com $6.95

Art by Maria Neradova Answers on page 35