Дебора Хоу - Bunnicula

As for me, Mrs. Monroe spent the evening petting me and the family chatted with me all night long. And of course, I’d had my yummy steak dinner. So … it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Except that now my steak was all gone. Poor Harold.

Chapter 7 - A (New) Friend in Need

In the days that followed, Chester’s behavior was exemplary. He purred and he cooed and he cleaned his paws. And he rubbed up against everyone’s legs to show what a good boy he was. I was getting worried. Chester acts that way only when he has something devious in the back of his mind. But I didn’t know what it was. He had tried everything in the book to get rid of vampires, and all his efforts had failed. But I knew from the expression on his face that something was definitely up. Of course, I didn’t know for certain because he had not spoken to me since the steak incident. I guess he realized that my heart just wasn’t in the destruction of the bunny vampire.

In fact, I was beginning to like the little fellow.

The Monroes were relieved by Chester’s improved behavior. They didn’t know how to account for his strange doings but, to their credit, they were willing to let bygones be bygones. The only disturbing factor in all our lives was the reappearance of the white vegetables each morning in the kitchen. And yet, after a few days, even that stopped and life seemed to return to normal.

One evening, I dropped by Bunnicula’s cage to chat. I’d found myself doing that more and more since Chester had stopped talking to me. Of course, Bunnicula didn’t talk back, but he was a good listener. I’d begun to think of him as a friend—a strange one, granted, but one can’t always choose one’s friends. I was distressed this particular evening to see that he was dragging his ears, as it were. He looked tired and listless. I felt his nose and it seemed a little warmer than it should have been. I became alarmed.

I ran over to Toby who was doing a picture puzzle on the floor and began to bark—something I do only in cases of extreme emergency, since even I do not care for the sound.

“What’s the matter, Harold?” Toby asked without moving. “Are there burglars?”

I ran to the cage and looked at Bunnicula. I looked back at Toby and whimpered. Toby just looked confused.

“Do you want to play with Bunnicula? Shall I take him out of the cage?‘

“Woof,” I responded, indicating, I hoped, that that was indeed what he should do.

“I’ll ask Mom and Dad, Harold. You wait here.” He was back in a minute, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Harold, but Mom says you can’t play with the rabbit. It causes too much commotion.”

I looked down at the floor and whimpered again.

“Sorry, Harold, maybe later when we’re all in here together.”

I regarded Bunnicula whose eyes met mine. He gave a little shudder, and I felt like crying. My friend was sick, and I didn’t know what to do. I wished I could tell Chester, but I knew it was no use. He was just too mad at me. I would have to sort this one out on my own.

That night, I couldn’t sleep worrying about Bunnicula. I decided to go downstairs and check on his condition. What I saw when I entered the living room horrified me. Bunnicula was out of his cage on the floor, while Chester stood in front of him, a piece of garlic around his neck and his arms outstretched, blocking the kitchen door. Suddenly, it all fell into place. Chester was starving Bunnicula! Of course, that’s why he seemed so listless, and that’s why the vegetables had stopped turning white. Chester had made it impossible for Bunnicula to eat.

“Chester!” I cried.

Chester jumped a very high jump.

“What are you doing down here?” he spat at me as he landed.

“I know what you’re doing, Chester, and the jig is up. That little bunny never hurt anybody. All he’s doing is eating his own way. What do you care if he drains a few vegetables?”

“He’s a vampire!” Chester snarled. “Today, vegetables. Tomorrow … the world!”

“I think perhaps you’re overstating your case,” I suggested cautiously.

“Go back to bed, Harold. This is larger than the two of us. It may seem harsh, but I’m only being cruel to be kind.”

Who’s he being kind to? I wondered, as I went back upstairs. The tomatoes and zucchinis of the world? Maybe a few cabbages? It just didn’t make sense. But I could see I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Chester tonight. Tomorrow, however, would be another story, and I was determined that, by hook or by crook, my friend Bunnicula would eat by sundown the next day.

Chapter 8 - Disaster in the Dining Room

I realized that there was nothing I could do for Bunnicula during the day, since he was sleeping. But that gave me time to plan my strategy. At first, I thought I would bring food to his cage, but then it occurred to me that Chester must be taking everything away that was given to him. Pete and Toby usually left lettuce for Bunnicula during the day while he was sleeping, and Chester, ever watchful, probably nabbed it each evening just before the rabbit woke. No, there would have to be another way.

I thought and thought all afternoon, and I could see that Chester had done a good job of isolating Bunnicula from his food. There was no way I could think of to overcome Chester’s game plan. As evening drew closer and I grew more and more frantic, I stumbled into the dining room … and saw the answer to my problems sitting before me on the table. It was a big bowl of salad! All I had to do was get Bunnicula to the salad and let him get his fill before the family came in to eat. With that funny white dressing on it, they would never notice if a few vegetables were white.

I ran to the hallway to check the clock. Six fifteen. It would be fifteen minutes before the sun went down and Bunnicula woke up. I would then need at least five minutes to get him from his cage to the table and feed him. All I had to do was make sure no one came into the room until he had finished. I needed a good twenty minutes, at least.

I went back into the living room. Chester was asleep on his brown velvet chair, shedding in his sleep, still worn out from the previous night’s activities. I checked upstairs. Toby was reading in his room, the last chapter of Treasure Island , I noted. Pete, who should have been doing his homework, was listening to records in his room.

I ran down to the kitchen.

“Hello, Harold,” Mrs. Monroe said as I came through the door. “What’s new?”

Other than a rabbit starving in the next room and an imminent attack on your salad bowl, nothing, I thought. I stood at her feet and panted. She scratched my head. This gave me a moment to check out how far she was in her cooking.

“Sorry, Harold,” she said. “I have to baste this chicken.” I noticed the oven timer still had thirty-five minutes to go. It’ll be tight, I thought, but I can make it. Now, where is Mr. Monroe?

I went to the front door and whimpered loudly. Mrs. Monroe followed me.

“Are you waiting for Daddy, Harold? He’ll be home soon.”

Soon isn’t good enough. How soon? I whimpered again.

“Patience, boy. He’s late at a school meeting. He should be here any time.”

She went back into the kitchen and I checked the clock. Six twenty-five. It was getting dark and Chester was still asleep. Time to swing into action.

Having watched Chester undo the lock on Bunnicula’s cage and having participated in that unfortunate steak episode some days earlier, I knew I would have no problem getting Bunnicula out. I just had to be a little more careful where I positioned my head so that I wouldn’t find myself in the humiliating predicament of getting stuck a second time. My timing was perfect. With Bunnicula swinging peacefully from my teeth, I made my way stealthily toward the dining room as the last rays of sunlight gave way to the dark of night. Once inside the dining room door, Bunnicula awakened in great bewilderment. It is not everyday, after all, that one finds oneself, upon awakening, hanging from the jaws of a fellow creature—even so caring and gentle a creature as myself.