The Frog Moon Festival begins at the time of day called dimmery, which is just after supper, when people like you and me begin to wonder if there is something good on TV. First, Ms. Winterbottom went outside the cave to do some Sneaking. This was to make sure no Humans were around, and there weren’t.
After that came the Thwacking of the Log. Mr. Villabaloo, who was one of the tallest and strongest Sasquatches in Widdershins Cavern, found a big log. He lifted it up with a mighty effort, then thwacked the log against the trunk of a great oak tree. BOOOOM! It made a noise like a clap of thunder. He thwacked the tree again. BOOOOM! And again. BOOOOOM!
The sound of thunder rolled through the North Woods. Humans who lived nearby heard it and said to their families, “Sounds like a real gullywhomper of a storm is heading our way.” Then they quickly shut all their windows, made sure their cat was inside, and tucked themselves in for a cozy evening at home.
After the Thwacking of the Log, all the Sasquatches piled out of Widdershins Cavern and the festivities began. There were relay races and log-throwing competitions and a somersault area. Sasquatches are terrible at somersaults, but they love to do them, they just do.
All sorts of delicious food was laid out on a long table—sweet walnut rumples and huckleberry trifles and rosehip crunchers. And so many pies! Blueberry and gooseberry and golden cloudberry pie, and buffalo-berry pie, all made from last summer’s berries that had been canned especially for the Frog Moon Festival. And at either end of the table were jugs of sweetened pine needle tea.
Some of the squidges wore their masks and some didn’t, but they were all laughing and screeching and running and having a great time. All except Hugo. He sat on an old tree stump with his chin in his hand, feeling rotten about what had happened with Boone.
Suddenly a monster ran up to him and stuck its face into Hugo’s.
“Grahhhh! RAAAAAA!” the monster said.
“Hi, Malcolm,” Hugo said glumly.
“How did you know it was me?” Malcolm asked from behind his mask.
“You have acorn butter stuck to your chest hair.”
“Oh.” He turned to lunge at a small squidge named Pandora. “GRAAAAAH!” he growled very ferociously.
Pandora began shrieking.
“It’s just Malcolm,” Hugo told Pandora.
But Pandora kept shrieking.
“Tell her it’s just you, Malcolm,” Hugo said.
“Don’t boss me, Captain Flapdoodle,” Malcolm replied.
“Captain Flapdoodle?” asked Hugo, squinching up his face. “What does that even mean?”
Pandora’s screeching grew so loud that Hugo finally stood up and whipped the mask right off Malcolm’s head.
“Hey! What did you do that for?!” Malcolm said angrily.
“She needs to see that it’s you under there or she won’t believe it,” Hugo told Malcolm.
Then two good things happened:
1. Pandora stopped shrieking.
2. Hugo had an idea.
