Chapter One

It was a blistery, winter afternoon and Miss Lady, the anti-litter bug, was nestled in a small crevice in the right hand corner of the Leighton's living room windowsill. She was drinking a hot cup of tea made from the snow's leaky condensation, a pinch out of a bag of herbs she had stored under her right wing during the fall, and she warmed it, piping hot, with her thoughts of the coming summer. The Leighton's children sat reading by the crackling fire. And while the gray sky was fading to black beyond the glass, Miss Lady could not think of a better way to spend her later years.

Miss Lady, at first glance, may have looked like your ordinary, elderly ladybug. Black spots speckled her vibrant red skin. Her antennas, while the left one was crooked, still performed their jobs successfully, directing Miss Lady down safe paths. However, Miss Lady was far from your ordinary ladybug. Miss Lady had a strong will and a superb sense of good and bad. But, above all, Miss Lady knew that life was about what you believed in. Life was not, for instance, about following others in order to please them or to fit in. Miss Lady always knew that the path to goodness was often walked alone, following your beliefs and staying true to yourself.

For these reasons, anyone could tell you that the old ladybug in that corner sill was far from ordinary. She was Miss Lady, the anti-litter bug.

Chapter Two

And as this ordinary afternoon fell into twilight, Miss Lady, dozing off to the hum of the Leighton children's voices, was abruptly awakened by a rap-tap-thump, smacking on the glass window panel.

"Oh my!" she shouted, nearly dropping her tea. The saucer was still wobbling in her hands when she managed to turn around and, there, face smashed up against the panel, was Mr. Polka-Dot Sr. himself, the local ladybug Sheriff and gold medal winner of this years Spring Beauty Pageant for the most spots ever seen on a male ladybug. He was beginning to slide down the glass when Miss Lady got to her feet and with all of her strength lifted the window open with a loud, agonizing grunt.

Mr. Polka-Dot Sr. was panting, attempting to straighten his crooked antennas, as he approached Miss Lady, knelt down and kissed her hand.

"My dear madam, I mean, Lady," he said.

Miss Lady blushed and then motioned for him to rise.

"What is it Sheriff? Why the panic?" she questioned.

Mr. Polka-Dot, while trying to shrug it off as "nothing. Oh, nothing at all! Just stopped in for some tea. Thought you might want company," did not succeed. His expression spoke a thousand words. Not to mention that whenever Mr. Polka-Dot Sr. got nervous and worried, he grew more spots on his wings (Rightly so, some beauty pageant contestants thought this nervous tendency might have been the only reason he had won the gold but, alas, there aren't many ladybugs eager to go against the Sheriff). "Is it them, again?" Miss Lady questioned, starting to panic. "Oh! Dear me! It must be! What have they done now?"

Mr. Polka-Dot gave Miss Lady a sorrowful look and shook his head, yes. "Yes. It is them. There is no time to waste! I could think of only one Lady to fix this problem. Are you up to it, old gal?"

Miss Lady looked back at the Leighton children and the warm, burning fireplace. Then, she turned to the sheriff.

"Who are you callin' old gal?"

And they were off.

Chapter Three

The "them" whom Mr. Polka-Dot Sr. and Miss Lady had spoken of were a mean band of litter bugs. Most ladybugs Miss Lady's age referred to them as hoodlums and troublemakers. Yet, the elders never seemed to spend any time educating the little rascals on how to act properly. The elders thought speaking to the youth of the valley was a waste of time. After all, this was not the heyday of Miss Lady and her Anti-Litter Campaign. This was a time of plastic bottles and napkins left on park benches, bubble gum stuck to great oaks and half eaten lollipops washed up with the tides.

Unfortunately, for the little scoundrels, not everyone took a blind eye to the litter bug's antics. Sheriff Polka-Dot and Miss Lady had been on their spotted tails for months now. The litter bugs were going to be taught a lesson they would never forget.

"So what are you thinking?" Mr. Polka-Dot questioned.

Mr. Polka-Dot and Miss Lady were squatting behind a large, crispy Maple leaf, every now and then sticking their heads out to survey the damage and to keep a look out for more littering revelers.

"Well, I say, we play a little game I used in the Anti-Litter Bug Campaign of 67," said Miss Lady.

"But, Miss Lady, do you really think these litter bugs are going to fall for that one?" asked Mr. Polka-Dot Sr.

"They did back in 67, sheriff. I'm willing to try it again."

Read Chapter Four.