Attack of the Fluffy Bunnies

by Andrea Beaty

  It’s nothing, thought Joules, hoping it didn’t count as Famous Last Words if you didn’t say them out loud.

  As the twins walked farther into the woods, the air grew thicker. So did the ferns that swelled up from the forest floor, reaching green fingers into the still air. They were as high as Kevin’s chest, and he wondered if wild animals were hiding in the ferns, watching…. He could almost feel their stares.

  He shuddered.

  Get a grip, he thought. You’re acting like Annoying Movie Character Number 1.

  Annoying Movie Character Number 1 is the first person in a movie to say something stupid like, “I feel like someone’s watching me.” This is almost always followed by someone saying Famous Last Words like, “It’s nothing” or “Don’t be a baby” or “It’s just your imagination.” Which is—of course—followed by Annoying Movie Character Number 1 being eaten by the thing that is actually watching them. On the upside, Annoying Movie Character Number 1s are well-known for their fabulous screams.

  Kevin was pretty sure he had a fabulous scream, based on his reaction to the raspberry SPAM birthday cake his mom had made the twins when they turned seven. At the moment, though, he wasn’t interested in showing off his fabulous scream. Instead, he made a mental note to start a new chart once they reached camp. He would call it a Field Guide to Annoying Movie Characters and it would help him remember not to act like one.

  Now the trail dwindled from a double track into a single one. It went on a few feet, then stopped at an enormous fallen log.

  It was the end of the road.

  “This is so wrong,” said Joules, throwing her backpack down in disgust.

  Kevin dropped his pack and sat on the damp log. He thumped at one of the tiny mushrooms clinging to the soft wood. On the third thump, the mushroom flew into the air and disappeared in the giant ferns. Something rustled in the undergrowth.

  “Grmmblemrrrrmm.”

  Kevin thumped another mushroom into the ferns. Again there was a rustling noise.

  “Grmmblemrrrrmm.”

  Joules and Kevin looked at each other.

  “What is it?” Joules whispered.

  “I don’t know,” whispered Kevin.

  “Go find out,” Joules said.

  “I have a better plan,” said Kevin. “You do it.”

  “Wimp,” said Joules.

  Like most people who poked new situations with a stick, Joules was very good at finding sticks when she needed them. She picked up a stick and tiptoed toward the grumbling noise.

  “Grmmblemrrrrmm.”

  She jabbed the stick into the ferns.

  A fluffy white bunny about the size of a small dog bolted out and bounced off Kevin’s leg. Its tail was singed and blackened.

  “Aaah!!!” Kevin yelled and fell back into the ferns, startling two more large bunnies with blackened rumps. They bolted after the first one and disappeared into the foliage.

  Joules doubled over with laughter. “You dork!”

  “Not funny,” Kevin said. He pulled on his pack and tromped off through the woods.

  “Wanna bet?” yelled Joules.

  She pulled on her backpack and hiked after him. Had she not been laughing so hard, she might have remembered a few basic facts of nature. Namely, that:

  A. Rabbits don’t grumble.

  B. Rabbits don’t have blackened rumps or tails.

  C. Rabbits are almost never the size of a small dog. And we’re not talking one of those annoying, tiny nervous-wreck “dogs” that equally annoying famous people carry in purses. We’re talking the size of a real dog that’s small but is going to get bigger. (Possibly much bigger.)

  Had Joules not been laughing so hard, she might also have noticed the breeze that blew through the forest and rustled the tall ferns, revealing—for just a heartbeat—eyes. Six of them, to be exact. All of them swirly.

  Kevin and Joules hiked for what seemed like forever with no sign of a camp. They stopped by an outcropping of boulders.

  Kevin set his pack on a boulder.

  “This stinks,” he said.

  “Sure does,” said Joules, dropping her pack and leaning against the rocks.

  “This really, really stinks,” said Kevin.

  “You already said that,” said Joules.

  “No. I mean it really stinks! What’s so smelly?” Kevin said.

  Joules sniffed. A strange mix of rotten eggs and dead rodents filled the air.

  “Oh, yeah!” Joules cried. “Lake Whatsosmelly!”

  She clambered up the boulders.

  “Wahoo!” she yelled from the top. “We are here!”

  Kevin climbed up, too, and looked out over the sparkling waters of Lake Whatsosmelly. A canoe peacefully glided across the calm surface. On the shore stood a cluster of small tents and two large ones. A group of campers hiked up the shoreline. In the clearing near the tents, four kids and a woman with a tall beehive hairdo worked on some kind of craft project at a picnic table.

  A banner stretched above the tents:

  “Camp Whatsitooya. Home Sweet Camp.”

  A Very Brief History of Camp Whatsitooya on the Shores of Lake Whatsosmelly

  Camp Whatsitooya was established in 1805 by the explorer Rodney K. Whifflesniff and his friend and bean enthusiast Benny “Beans” Malone. Following the advice of his mother, who famously invented the phrase “Get off the couch already,” Whifflesniff set out to discover the elusive Northeast Passage. (Whifflesniff briefly considered seeking the elusive Northwest Passage, but honestly, it seemed kind of far and it was almost dinner and what was the big deal about the West anyhow and …)

  On the shores of a pleasant lake, the duo paused for a medley of baked beans, boiled beans, and burned beans. (Beans Malone, while noted for his enthusiastic embrace of beans, was not known for his skill at cooking them.) Unbeknownst to the duo, the rocks on which they dined vented fumes from an underground sulfur pit (and place where small rodents liked to die). Whifflesniff sniffed the air, glared at Beans Malone, and commented, “Whatsosmelly?” Malone turned bright red, gave an embarrassed little cough, then pretended not to know what could possibly make a smell like that and said, “Whatsitooya? Let’s camp.”

  Note that Whifflesniff and Malone’s attempt to discover the Northeast Passage ended with the discovery of Boston. Population 200,000. Thrilled to learn that they existed, the citizens of Boston elected Whifflesniff as mayor and adopted Malone’s bean medley as the city’s favorite food to offer tourists so the locals could eat all the lobster. To this day, Boston baked beans are “enjoyed” by millions of tourists each year.

  Following the establishment of Camp Whatsitooya, some historical things happened, followed by some other things that happened, and then time passed and probably some other things happened, too. All of them were boring.

  It was early evening. Joules and Kevin arrived in camp just as the dinner bell rang. Campers streamed into a large tent at the edge of the clearing. A sign hung above the door with the words “Mess Tent” crossed out and replaced by “Café du Lac.”

  The woman in the beehive hairdo walked up to the twins.

  “Oh, lovely!” she said. “You must be the Rockmans. We expected you ages ago. I’m Ms. Jones, the owner and head counselor here at camp.”

  “We got lost,” said Joules.

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Ms. Jones. “You’ve had a chance to explore the grounds and enjoy our beautiful scenery here at Camp Whatsitooya. I hope you got to experience the Aroma Rocks.”

  “The stinky boulders?” asked Kevin.

  “Yes indeed!” said Ms. Jones. “They are one of our most famous features. People hike for miles just to avoid them. Well, you must be starving. Why don’t you drop your gear in here.” She pointed to one of the small tents. “Then come dine with us at Café du Lac. It’s steak night. Tube steaks! All the campers just love them, and we just love our campers! Always the best at Camp Whatsitooya!”

  “I think she means hot dogs,” whispered Kevin.


  “Works for me!” said Joules, tossing her pack into the tent and running to join the other campers in the mess tent.

  “Wait for me!” yelled Kevin, dropping his pack and running after her.

  Café du Lac was surprisingly large. It held four large picnic tables and was lit by camp lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Three boys sat at one table. At the end of the tent was a camp kitchen where three girls with ponytails and pink T-shirts were busy serving the other campers. In a corner, behind the stack of trays, was a large stack of boxes marked “marshmallows.” Oh, yeah!

  Joules and Kevin got in line for hot dogs behind a skinny, freckled boy with rumpled reddish hair, droopy socks, and a wrinkled T-shirt.

  “You picked the right day to come to camp!” said the boy. “Tube steaks are the best! I never get to have them at home because my mom says that cylinder-shaped foods are unnatural and can cause goiters. I’m not sure what goiters are, but I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll write Mom about the tube steaks. Do you think I should write Mom about the tube steaks? I’m Nelson.”

  “Uh …,” said Joules.

  “Well …,” said Kevin.

  “I didn’t think so,” said Nelson. “I’ll tell her about the potato chips. They’re kind of oval. Who are you?”

  Joules and Kevin introduced themselves.

  “Twins are cool,” said Nelson. “I’m not twins. There’s only one of me. Mom says that there could never be anyone else like me. I think she’s right. ’Cause then there would be two of me.”

  “Wow,” said Joules.

  The three girls handed Nelson his tray of food, which included a hot dog, chips, some homemade baked beans, and salad. He carried his tray to an empty picnic table by the door and sat down.

  “You can sit by me!” he called to the twins.

  “Great,” whispered Kevin.

  The girls serving dinner looked up. Even though their faces looked nothing alike, the three girls seemed identical. Or more accurately—they seemed interchangeable. They wore matching pink shirts and had their hair pulled back in pink sparkly scrunchies. Even their pink hiking boots were decorated with matching hearts and stars.

  “Hi,” said Kevin. “I’m Kevin and this is Joules.”

  “I’m SmellyCat,” said the girls, and they giggled.

  Actually, they said, “I’m Sam. I’m Ellie. I’m Cat.”

  Unfortunately, they all said it at the same time, and it sounded like SamEllieCat, which sounded just like SmellyCat to Kevin and Joules. The twins thought about asking them to repeat their names, but frankly it took more energy than they could muster after a long day of being lost and nearly starving to death.

  “Thanks for the tube steaks,” said Joules.

  The twins took their trays and lemonade to Nelson’s table and sat down. SmellyCat loaded up their trays and sat at another table.

  The tent buzzed with the chatter of happy campers retelling the tales of the day’s adventures. The smell of baked beans and tube steaks, tent canvas and wood smoke filled the air. For the first time all day, Joules and Kevin Rockman relaxed. Camp Whatsitooya looked just like camp should. Lots of fun. Lots of food. And none of it brick-shaped. Things were going to be fine. Just fine.

  Joules and Kevin raised their glasses of lemonade in a silent toast and took a sip.

  Camp Whatsitooya. Home Sweet Camp.

  Perhaps you are wondering what has happened since we left the Fluffs on their smoldering marshmallow planet thinking, “Evacuate!!!!”

  Perhaps you are not.

  If not, what are you doing? Really. This is an interesting topic. What could you possibly be doing that is more interesting than this? Are you cleaning your room? Because really, that’s not at all interesting. Are you playing a video game? Are you wishing you had a chocolate triple-dip ice-cream cone?

  Or maybe a mint chocolate chip dip cone.

  Mmmmmm. Hold that thought—

  The Fluffs rounded the corner of their planet and arrived at an aging rocket. The rocket had arrived several years before and sent out small robotic rovers that drove over the planet gathering pictures via their cameras and small dirt samples via their pinchy-grabby robot arms. The rovers were not dangerous. But they tasted pretty good with chocolate sauce.

  The Fluffs boarded the aging rocket.

  “Do you guys know how to fly this thing?” thought Floopsy.

  “How hard can it be?” thought Moopsy. “Push some buttons. That one looks big.”

  “Push in case of Swedes?” thought Commander Cottonswab. “They sound tasty. Let’s go.”

  Commander Cottonswab pushed the large red button.

  The rocket shook and rumbled. The rocket fuel tanks ignited with a deafening roar. (For those of you gifted at sound effects, insert an extremely loud rocket blast kind of roar here.)

  Then

  The rocket lifted into the air, flames torching the fluffy marshmallow surface of the planet, which burned orange, then blue, and finally crumbled into a powdery black ash and shattered into the nothingness of space.

  The Planet of the Fluffs was no more.

  “Wow,” thought Floopsy.

  “Wow,” thought Moopsy.

  “Swedes,” thought Commander Cottonswab. “Yum.”

  After dinner, Kevin and Joules Rockman returned to their tiny tent and flopped onto their cots, which were surprisingly comfortable. The twins had not realized how tired they were, but within moments, they were fast asleep.

  It was dark outside when Kevin woke and realized that he needed to use the bathroom. He also realized that he had no idea where the bathroom was. He shook Joules by the shoulder.

  “Wake up,” he said. “I need to find the bathroom.”

  “Spa,” Joules grumbled. She flopped over on her cot and started snoring. “Thanks bunches,” muttered Kevin.

  He pulled a flashlight out of his backpack, slid into his sneakers, and slipped out of the tent. The other campers were asleep in the surrounding tents, and the camp was dark and silent. Well, not exactly silent. There were no people noises, but the forest was like a soundtrack from Attack of the Jungle Monsters of Death. Crickets and frogs and—quite possibly—werewolves and human-sized Gila monsters creaked and croaked and howled and breathed heavily in the trees. Other creatures, Kevin was sure, were waiting silently for their chance to chew his kneecaps off.

  Wandering aimlessly in the dark in a strange place was at the top of Kevin’s list—and yes, Kevin kept an actual list in his notebook—of things to avoid. Kevin was not a fan of the dark. In fact, though he would not admit it, the dark was one of the reasons Kevin Rockman liked plans so much. As a young kid, he had been scared of the dark. He overcame his fear by drawing and memorizing maps of his room so he could remember where to run in case of ghost attack or bedbug invasion. Plans comforted Kevin.

  What did not comfort Kevin was stepping into the darkness of Camp Whatsitooya without knowing where he was going. He could kick himself for not figuring it out earlier. He shined his flashlight over the tents and noticed a beaten path between two of them. Kevin followed it past the dining tent to the edge of the clearing.

  This can’t be right, he thought.

  He was about to turn around when his flashlight beam hit a small, sparkly sign with an arrow and the word “SPA” printed on it. Kevin followed the trail into the woods. As the forest sounds grew louder and louder, Kevin added more creatures to the list of possible noisemakers: anacondas, zombies, and termites. Each had an evil way of killing a person. Kevin tried to figure out which would be the best way to go. He decided that being eaten by the giant snake would be best. At least if he was eaten by an anaconda, Joules would see the Kevin-shaped snake happily sunning itself (while digesting its midnight snack) on the trail to the spa and figure out what had happened to him.

  Kevin walked faster. At last, the path broadened in front of a small rickety building. It was the outhouse—a.k.a. the spa—from the brochure. It was old and rickety, but Kevin had never been happier
to find a place.

  There were two entrances to the building. A small, crooked sign hung over the left entrance. It was an icon of a figure wearing a skirt. The other had no sign at all. Since he was neither a girl nor a boy wearing a kilt, Kevin opted for the second entrance. He pulled open the door and walked inside.

  Here’s a thought. Why don’t we give Kevin some privacy? We could build a campfire and sing some songs and tell some spooky stories and eat some s’mores. Did anyone bring marshmallows?

  No? C’mon folks! We’re at a camp!

  Okay. Well, never mind.

  Besides, he shouldn’t be in there that much longer. Right?

  On the other hand, he could be in there all night. So why don’t we chat a little. This would be a great time to clear up any questions you might have so far.

  What? Oh, sure. Now he’s ready. No time for questions. But here are some answers just in case you have questions later:

  1. The blue-footed goonie bird

  2. May 27, 1992

  3. Causes an unsightly rash and swelling

  Meanwhile, back to our story …

  —reaching for the door to leave the spa, Kevin heard rustling outside and a strange chomping noise.

  Kevin froze. The sounds grew closer and closer unti they were just outside the screen door.

  Kevin held his breath. He couldn’t see what was making the noise, but he could tell by the sounds that it was big. Very, very big. And, frankly, it didn’t sound very nice. Kevin was about to duck back into a stall when the sound stopped. The rustling chomping thing chomped and rustled off into the woods behind the spa and was gone. Kevin heard a new sound and saw a flashlight beam in the dark. Someone was stumbling down the path toward the spa.

  “Kevin!?”

  It was Joules.

  “Here!” he called.

  “What’s taking you so long?” she asked.

  “Just enjoying the spa,” said Kevin. “What do you think?”