Bunnicula 01 - Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery by James Howe Deborah Howe

Author:James Howe, Deborah Howe [Howe, James Howe, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-04-02T07:00:23+00:00

Chapter 5 - Chester Goes into His Act

The next morning, I was awakened by a scream.

“Robert! Robert, come down here right away. There’s something wrong in the kitchen!”

For a moment, panic seized me. I thought she’d run out of dog food. But then I remembered the events of the previous evening.

Mr. Monroe came bounding down the stairs. “Chester! Chester!” I cried. “Did you see Mr. Monroe? His face has turned white! It’s Bunnicula, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said calmly, “it’s shaving cream, you idiot.”

By now, the excitement in the kitchen was at full throttle. The table was covered with Bunnicula’s handiwork. There were white beans and white peas and white squash and white tomatoes and white lettuce and white zucchini.

“What can it mean, Robert?” Mrs. Monroe was saying. “I’m getting worried. One tomato is a curiosity, but this is unheard of.”

“There must be something wrong with our refrigerator. That’s it. It’s turning all the vegetables white.”

“But look,” she said, “I left these tomatoes on the windowsill, and they’re white, too. And this squash I left in the bowl on the table.”

At that moment, Pete and Toby came into the kitchen.

“Holy cow! What’s going on?”

“Hey! Maybe it’s a vegetable blight, Mom.”

“Could that be, Robert? Did you ever hear of anything like that?”

“Well … uh … no, actually … that is, I’ve heard of blight, but nothing like this.”

Chester leaned my way. “This will take forever if we leave it up to them. Sometimes, human beings can be so slow.” I started to answer him, but he was heading for the table.

“What about that friend of yours in the Agriculture Department?”

“Oh, Tom Cragin?”

“Could we call him and ask him if we’re doing something wrong?”

“It’s DDT, Mom,” Peter interjected. “I know about this stuff. It’s because you buy vegetables that aren’t organic.”

“All vegetables are organic, Peter,” Mrs. Monroe replied.

“That’s not what my teacher says. See, Toby, I told you this would happen. They’re using chemicals on our food, and if you’re not careful, you’ll turn white, too.”

“Like Dad?”

“Robert, couldn’t you take that shaving cream off your face?”

“Oh yes, of course. Where’s my towel? I know I brought it down with me.”

For that matter, where was Chester? I’d seen him going toward the table, but I’d lost track of him listening to all that talk about DDT. I just hoped they didn’t use any of that stuff where they grew chocolate cupcakes.

“Pete, did you take my towel?”

“Why would I take your towel, Dad? I don’t shave.”

Just then, the door swung open. I could not believe my eyes. There was Chester, with Mr. Monroe’s towel draped across his back and tied under his neck like a cape. That was strange enough, but on his face was an expression that sent chills down my spine. His eyes were wide and staring. The corners of his mouth were pulled back in an evil grimace. His teeth were bared and gleaming in the morning light. He cackled menacingly and threw back his head as if he were laughing at all of us.

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