It Came from Beneath the Bed! (Tales from the House of Bunnicula)

Dear possible reader of this book,

I want to be a writer, just like my uncle Harold, who wrote a bunch of books about our friend Bunnicula. So I wrote this story. And boy! Did I ever get into trouble! My friend Delilah stopped speaking to me because I put her in my book. Uncle Harold stopped speaking to me because I didn't put him in my book. A writer's life isn't easy!

But back to my story: It's about how a talented and lovable (not to mention smart) wirehaired dachshund puppy named Howie saves the world from a disgusting, evil menace named...oops, that would give away the story. But trust me, this menace is disgusting and evil, all right!!!

Uncle Harold, who is speaking to me again, says it's an exciting book, even though it has too many adjectives.

I have no idea what he's talking about. I just hope you like the story.

Your friend,
Howie

Bud Barkin, Private Eye (Tales from the House of Bunnicula)

Dear Reader,

The guy who usually writes these letters asked me to do it instead. Maybe he was having a bad writing day. Maybe he wanted me to play the sap for him. Or maybe he ran into Trouble with a capital T.

Well, Trouble's my business. I'm a dog. I'm a detective. The name's Bud Barkin. And this book is about a case I had involving a dame named Delilah Gorbish, whom I would call Trouble with a capital T except I've used that metaphor already, and a clown named Crusty Carmady whose calling card is a teakettle that he heaves through windows. Nice pair of birds. The mystery deepens with another character called the Big Fish, who isn't really a fish and who's addicted to the Home Shopping Network.

Hey, I don't write 'em -- I just solve 'em. If you're interested you might want to come along for the ride, which is wilder than a bunch of English teachers at a grammar fair. Just remember: I do all the similes.

Yours truly, Bud Barkin, P.E.