Nighty-Nightmare (Bunnicula Series)
  • Nighty-Nightmare (Bunnicula Series)
  • Nighty-Nightmare (Bunnicula Series)

Nighty-Nightmare (Bunnicula Series)

4.3 12
by James Howe, Leslie Morrill
     
 

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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

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Overview

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?

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"Humor is brilliantly blended with vampire lore...a suspenseful, well-paced read aloud." — Publishers Weekly
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
In this campsite adventure, part of the Bunnicula series, "humor is brilliantly blended with vampire lore," said PW. Ages 8-12. (Aug.)
Children's Literature - Sharon Salluzzo
When the Monroes decide to go on an overnight camping trip in the woods, they meet two peculiar characters, Bud and Spud and their dog, Dawg. Chester, the Monroe's cat with the overactive imagination, is sure these fellas are up to no good. Dawg takes Chester, puppy Howie and narrator Harold into the woods and announces that they are lost. This convinces Chester that Bud and Spud intend to harm the Monroes. That night he tells the three dogs "a hare-raising tale" of two brothers from Transylvania and their vampire rabbits. In the morning light, the mystery of Bud and Spud is solved. Bunnicula fans will enjoy this addition to the series. Humorous wordplay and puns are interwoven with suspense, making this ideal for the newly independent reader ready for chapter books. 1997 (orig.
School Library Journal
Gr 3-6 It's another outing for the companions of Bunnicula (Atheneum, 1979) the (supposedly) vampire rabbit. This time, they are on a camping trip with the Monroes, their cheerfully oblivious owners. Chester suspects danger from the outset, and his worst suspicions are confirmed when the Monroes set up camp near Bud, Spud, and their dog, Dawg, a sinister threesome right out of Deliverance. When Dawg leads Howie, Harold, and Chester on a chase deep into the surrounding forest and they become lost, Chester tells them a scary story to lull Dawg to sleep so that they can escape to rescue the Monroes who, they are sure, are in mortal danger. The story, of course, turns out to be about Bunnicula, Chester's favorite subject, and his origins, which turn out to be similar to the plot of any standard vampire movie and which, curiously, seem to involve Bud and Spud. Dawg brings about logical explanations which convince even Chester until he learns about Pete's secret merit badge project: breeding Bunnicula. . . . This fourth story in the series is the weakest, relying too much on readers' familiarity with vampire movie cliches and tolerance for weak puns. The journey into Bunnicula's roots is labored at best. The central conceit of this is done wittily but is getting threadbare. Is Chester right or merely hysterical? Readers would like to know. Christine Behrmann, New York Public Library

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781416939665
Publisher:
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Publication date:
08/07/2007
Series:
Bunnicula and Friends Series
Edition description:
Repackage
Pages:
144
Sales rank:
271,088
Product dimensions:
7.64(w) x 10.88(h) x 0.39(d)
Lexile:
680L (what's this?)
Age Range:
8 - 12 Years

Read an Excerpt

When the Monroes arrived right after us, the man by the fire looked up.

"Well, howdy," he said. "You folks out camping?"

"We...we thought we'd camp over there," Mrs. Monroe said, pointing to a sandy patch near the water's edge. "That is, if you don't mind."

"Mind? Heck, no. We never do get to see people in these parts. I'm Bud. And that there is Spud."

Spud, I thought. How fitting.

The Monroes introduced themselves and us. Spud looked everybody over, turned the knife in his hands, and spat on the ground.

"Nice-looking animals you got there," Bud said, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans. "Yes'm. Nice looking. Now, you take Dawg, he's seen better days. He cain't help it, he's been around by life, and sometimes he jes gets downright mean and orn'ry. But he's a good dawg, Dawg is."

"That's your dog's name?" said Mr. Monroe. "Dog?"

"Dawg," said Bud.

He flipped the fish in the frying pan. Spud spat. Dawg dragged himself to his feet and, drool and all, headed in our direction.

"He looks a little like Max," I commented, trying to cheer myself by bringing to mind a friendly bulldog of our acquaintance.

"Yeah, the way a rattler looks like a garter snake. Happy Saint George's Day," Chester said, and the hairs continued to rise all the way down my back.

"What kind of mutt do you call yourself?" Dawg growled as he came closer. His teeth were stained and pitted like old linoleum.

"Nonviolent," I said, hoping he wouldn't catch the tremor in my voice.

He snorted, sending a waft of rancid breath my way, and started to circle me, sniffing. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's this humiliating sniffing routine that passes for a handshake in the dog world. I would have suggested that he "give me five," but I was a little too nervous. Besides, I didn't have the feeling Dawg was the kind of old dog who was keen to learn new tricks. In fact, I didn't have the feeling Dawg was too keen at all.

"Watch this," he said, when he'd tired of sniffing. He sauntered over to the campfire, stopping only when he was so close that his mangy fur took on a red glow. I exchanged puzzled glances with Chester and Howie, wondering what it was we were supposed to be watching.

The Monroes, meanwhile, had moved down the slope to their campsite. Bud, who had gone back to his fish, ignored Dawg, while Spud just stared off into space, slowly turning his knife in his hands. After a moment, Dawg barked. The two men looked up and Bud started to shout, "Lookee, Spud. Hot dawg! Hot dawg!" His wild laughter made him sound like a demented goose. From the way Dawg and Spud curled their lips, I gathered that this was meant to be a big joke. Suddenly, I had the feeling I knew how prehistoric cavemen might have entertained themselves. I decided maybe television wasn't such a bad invention after all.

"Gee, Uncle Harold," Howie said, "What do you think?"

"I think Chester's right," I replied. "The woods are full of spirits tonight."

"Evil spirits?"

"Stupid spirits," I said.

Chester mumbled something, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of the can opener in the distance. Dinner was about to be served, and I wasn't going to miss it.

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