Nighty-Nightmare (Bunnicula and Friends)
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THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM....
Are Harold, Howie, and Chester simply lost in the woods with Dawg, their strange new friend? Or have they been lured away from their campsite intentionally, leaving the Monroes at the mercy of evil spirits with mayhem on their minds? Lulling Dawg to sleep with a bedtime story may be their only hope of escaping -- but is the hare-raising tale of the origins of Bunnicula, the vampire bunny, really a bedtime story?
close as Diabolicus slipped out of the room. But the sound of a heavy bolt falling into place jolted them awake. “ ‘We’re locked in,’ Fritz whispered in alarm. ‘I told you we shouldn’t have spoken so freely on our way here. He knows we plan to leave him, Hans.’ “ ‘How could he have heard?’ Hans said. ‘We talked of our plans only during the day when he was sleeping in that crazy box of his. Boy, what a nut case he is.’ “ ‘Yeah? What about Erda?’ said Fritz. ‘She’s as weird as he is. And those
less cheerfully, “Channel Six says it’s going to clear by morning.” The third day of Pete whining about what a rotten summer it had been and Toby asking When was it going to stop because how could he try his new skateboard? and Were they going to go on vacation even if it kept raining? and Why couldn’t they ever rent the movies he wanted at the video store? Not that the Monroes were the only ones getting, shall we say, edgy. No, even we pets—we who ordinarily exemplify a calm acceptance of fate
Tales from the House of Bunnicula It Came from Beneath the Bed! Invasion of the Mind Swappers from Asteroid 6! Howie Monroe and the Doghouse of Doom Screaming Mummies of the Pharaoh’s Tomb II Bud Barkin, Private Eye The Amazing Odorous Adventures of Stinky Dog Sebastian Barth Mysteries What Eric Knew Stage Fright Eat Your Poison, Dear Dew Drop Dead Pinky and Rex Series Pinky and Rex Pinky and Rex Get Married Pinky and Rex and the Mean Old Witch Pinky and Rex and the
next meal. In case I get distracted, a second alarm goes off around five so I can begin panicking. That day, however, I decided to start my panicking a little early. On a camping trip, I had no idea when I’d be fed. As it turned out I didn’t have to worry about it. But my panicking wasn’t in vain. It was good practice for everything that happened later. I also needn’t have worried about ticks and mosquitoes. By the time we’d driven to the other side of the lake and were finally out in the woods,
the wind. A branch snapped somewhere off to my left. “A scary story,” Dawg said. “Yer good at that, Chester. If you want me to go to sleep, you’d better tell me a scary story.” His words sounded like a threat, like he knew that we knew. If you want me to go to sleep, he’d said. I looked to Chester, whose eyes were focused on the house in the distance. The quivering yellow light faded and went out. The house was dark and still. “All right,” Chester said, “I’ll tell you a story. A story of Saint