Bunnicula Meets Edgar Allan Crow

“Pete wrote to M. T. Graves?”

“Yes, Howie, Pete wrote to M. T. Graves, and M. T. Graves wrote back, and—”

“M. T. Graves wrote back?”

“Yes, Howie, and that envelope—”

“And that envelope?”

“Howie!” Chester snapped from the stairs. “You’ll give me a migraine.”

“Okay, Pop,” Howie said, “I will just as soon as I can find one. But first I want to hear about—”

“M. T. Graves!” Pete shouted, his hands shaking as he held the open letter out in front of him.

“So it is from him!” said Toby.

“Not only that,” said Pete. “It says I won the contest! I can’t believe it! M. T. Graves is coming to visit our school! And get this: He’s going to stay at our house!”

Howie began to howl.

“And he’s bringing Edgar Allan Crow!”

Chester began to hiss.

Toby and Pete looked at them. “We really do have very weird pets,” Pete said.

He grabbed his backpack and raced Toby up the stairs, nearly knocking Chester over in the process.

“I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad!” I heard Pete shout. “But first I’m going to call Kyle and tell him that M. T. Graves is real! Ha!” Pete’s door slammed shut.

Chester’s eyes met mine. “The crow is coming,” he murmured. “The crow is coming, Harold. Do you know what that means?”

“Um, it means . . . we’ll be having corn for dinner?”

“No, Harold. It does not mean we’ll be having corn for dinner. It means we’re doomed. That’s what it means.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s a relief. Corn gets stuck in my teeth.”