Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery
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BEWARE THE HARE!
Is he or isn't he a vampire?
Before it's too late, Harold the dog and Chester the cat must find out the truth about the newest pet in the Monroe household -- a suspicious-looking bunny with unusual habits...and fangs!
same thing. Now, Bunnicula does not bite people on the neck. At least, not so far. But he does bite vegetables . . .” “On the neck?” I asked. “Vegetables don’t have necks, Harold. Vegetables are like that. It’s like dogs. Dogs don’t have brains. Dogs are like that.” “Oh yeah?” I said. “Of course he bites vegetables. All rabbits bite vegetables.” “He bites them, Harold, but he does not eat them. That tomato was all white. What does that mean?” “It means . . . that he paints vegetables?” I
floor. Chester flattened his ears, wiggled his rear end, and smiled in anticipation. To cat observers, this is known as the “attack position.” “Run, Bunnicula!” I shouted. Bunnicula turned in my direction, as if to ask where. “Anywhere!” I cried. “Just get out of his way!” Chester sprang. Bunnicula jumped. And in the flash of a second, they had changed positions. Chester now found himself flat on his back (owing to the slipperiness of the salad dressing) in the bowl. And Bunnicula, too dazed
house for him out of an old crate and some heavy-duty wire mesh from the garage. For the night, the boys would make a bed for him in the shoebox. Toby and Pete ran outside to find the crate, and Mrs. Monroe went to the kitchen to get him some milk and lettuce. Mr. Monroe sat down, a dazed expression in his eyes, as if he were wondering how he came to be sitting in his own living room in a wet raincoat with a strange bunny on his lap. I signaled to Chester and the two of us casually moseyed over
know, Chester, you were never exactly charming in the morning, but lately you’ve become downright grumpy.” Chester growled in response. “What are you doing this for anyway? What are you looking for? He’s just a cute little bunny.” “Cute little bunny!” Chester was amazed at my character analysis. “That’s what you think. He’s a danger to this household and everyone in it.” “Oh, Chester,” I said, with an indulgent smile, “I think your reading has gone to your head.” “It’s just because I do read
one good smack. I darn near broke my arm. It’s still tender; see how swollen it is.” He showed me his little paw. I couldn’t see anything wrong. But I knew better than to argue with him. “Oh yes,” I said, “that looks terrible. You must be suffering awfully. You’d better go easy today.” He limped dramatically, just far enough to display his new handicap, and continued. “I couldn’t even get to the pendulum. Somebody had put glass in front of it, and I was pretty mad. I was all set to go back, but