Read Online Bunnicula Strikes Again! by James Howe - Free Book Online Page B

words DEMOLITION SITE, DO NOT CROSS. All I could think was that somewhere inside that darkened, haunted-looking theater was a weak and sickly bunny searching for his mother. Was she even in there? Or was Bunnicula pursuing a memory, a wish, a phantom?
    â€œAre w-we g-g-going in there?” Howie stammered next to me. “It looks scary, Uncle Harold. Like
Night of the Living Gargoyles.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œNumber eighteen. There’s this boy, see . . .”
    â€œHowie,” I said, “we have to get Bunnicula out of there before the building is torn down tomorrow.”
    â€œWhat about his mother?”
    â€œYes, well, we’ll get her out, too, of course.” I didn’t tell Howie that I had serious doubts Bunnicula’s mother was in there.
    I also had serious doubts we would be in there anytime soon. This was a challenge that would have stumped Felony and Miss Demeanor. It was too dark to find a way in—and even if we did get past all the barricades and doors locked with chains, it would probably be pitch-black. Besides, I told myself, if we looked for Bunnicula now, the Monroes would miss us. No, it would be better to return first thing in the morning, when there was light.
    Howie didn’t give me an argument. He was as glad as I was to be out of there. And the Monroes were glad to see us when we returned.
    Howie, being young and without worries, slept soundly that night. I did not. When I wasn’t worrying about whether we’d be able to rescue Bunnicula before the wrecking crew did its work, I was thinkingabout what had happened between Chester and me. I kept thinking how only days before I had been so happy that things were normal around our house and how quickly everything had changed. Not everything, perhaps, but the friendship that mattered most to me in the world had been destroyed. And by my own doing. Had I been right to do it? I couldn’t let Chester harm Bunnicula. I had to draw the line somewhere. So why was it that every time I licked my lips that night I tasted salt?
    Just before dawn I fell asleep, only to be awakened a short time later by Toby’s cry of “Do I
have
to go?”
    â€œNo,” I heard Mrs. Monroe say, “you don’t have to go. You can go over to Jared’s house if you want.”
    â€œYou’re such a wuss,” Pete said to his brother. “Don’t you want to see it get knocked down? It’s going to be
so
cool!”
    â€œIf you’re going to cheer,” Mrs. Monroe said then, “maybe you should go to Kyle’s house, Pete. Our committee is going to register one final protest. No, it won’t stop the wrecking ball at this point, but it’s important for us to be there as a voice, as a conscience, Pete. The movie house is the most beautiful and architecturally interesting building inCenterville. It should be preserved, not torn down. We live in a throwaway society. Someone has to be there to say, ‘This is wrong.’ Do you understand?”
    â€œCan I have chocolate milk for breakfast?” Pete asked.
    Mrs. Monroe sighed. “It’s ‘may I,’ and yes, you may,” she said.
    â€œI want to be a conscience,” Toby piped up. “Like you and Dad. I’ll go.”
    Conscience. There was something about that word—and then my fuzzy, half-awake brain remembered.
    â€œHowie!” I cried.
    Howie jumped up from where he was sleeping and bumped his head on the underside of the coffee table.
    â€œOuch! What?” he asked.
    I answered with one word: “Bunnicula!”
    We were out of the house in ten minutes flat. Okay, we might have been faster if we hadn’t stopped off in the kitchen to have breakfast first. But we needed our strength. Besides, we didn’t want to make the Monroes suspicious.
    By the time we got to the theater, a crowd was alreadybeginning to gather. There were even a couple of reporters and TV cameras. And there,