A boy discovers the answer to one of the great urban mysteries: why are pigeons always pooping in parks? A second-grade class learns why they should always be nice to their math teacher….An ancient predator uses the internet to search out its prey… A young girl and her little brother escape a campfire weenie only to encounter something even more terrifying: a troupe of Girl Scouts singing campfire songs.   For this, his third collection of warped and creepy “weenie” tales, critically-acclaimed author and master of the macabre David Lubar traveled deep into the shadowy corners of his mind, looking for new ways to amuse and terrify his readers. And in the tradition of In the Land of the Lawn Weenies and Invasion of the Road Weenies , he reveals the inspiration behind each of the thirty-five stories at the end of the book. Praise for Invasion of the Road Weenies : "Lubar strikes again. Another winning round-up."-- Booklist "This spring's most coveted title."-- The Arizona Republic "Pleasingly short, well-crafted pieces…mixes the comic and the creepy, the merely weird with the truly haunting. "-- San Francisco Chronicle "Whether read alone under the covers with a flashlight, or shared in a darkened classroom on a rainy day, these tales will elicit their fair share of chills, thrills, and nervous laughter, and keep readers looking over their shoulders in broad daylight."-- The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books David Lubar created a sensation with his debut novel, Hidden Talents , an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. Thousands of kids and educators across the country have voted Hidden Talents onto over twenty state lists. David is also the author of True Talents , the sequel to Hidden Talents ; Flip , an ALA Best Book for Young Adults and a VOYA Best Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror selection; five short story collections, including  In the Land of the Lawn Weenies , Invasion of the Road Weenies , The Battle of the Red Hot Pepper Weenies , and  Attack of the Vampire Weenies ; and the Nathan Abercrombie, Accidental Zombie series. Lubar grew up in Morristown, New Jersey, and he has also lived in New Brunswick, Edison, and Piscataway, NJ, and Sacramento, CA. Besides writing, he has also worked as a video game programmer and designer. He now lives in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. Curse of the Campfire Weenies MR. HOOHAA!I can stare a werewolf in the face and laugh. I can step up to a vampire and shake his cold, undead hand without trembling. No problem. I've sat through every horror movie that's ever come to our town and visited dozens of Halloween haunted houses. Monsters don't even make me twitch. But clowns creep me out big-time.That usually isn't a problem. I mean, most days, you just aren't going to run into a guy with a round red nose, a huge painted smile, and wild green hair unless you live in a circus town or something. But my little brother's birthday was coming up, and Benji was determined to have a clown."That's a waste of money," I told my mom. "I can entertain the kids." How hard could it be to keep a bunch of six-year-olds amused? I could just push my palm against my mouth and make fart sounds. That alone would keep them happy for at least fifteen minutes."It's nice you want to help, Andrew," my mom said."But Benji has his heart set on a clown. And I found this ad in the paper." She held up the local weekly. There was a small ad that just read: "Mr. HooHaa! The perfect clown for parties.""Looks kind of cheesy," I said.But Mom wouldn't listen. She made the call and booked Mr. HooHaa! for Benji's party."You don't need me, then, right?" I asked after she'd hung up."Of course I'll need you," she said."But ...""And Benji will want you there."So, two weeks later, I found myself filling bowls with potato chips, lining up plastic cups, and helping Mom string streamers and balloons in the living room.About fifteen minutes after the brats--I mean guests--arrived, I glanced out the window just as a van pulled up to the curb. The van was white, with a big smile painted on the side. Above the smile was the name "Mr. HooHaa!""Everything's set," I said to Mom. "Can I go hang out with my friends now?""You can't leave," she said. "You'll miss the clown." That's my plan. The doorbell rang."Would you get that?" she asked.I tried to think of an excuse. The bell rang again.One of the kids screamed as he spilled half a cup of purple juice on his shirt. Two other kids dumped their juice on him. Mom dashed over, then glanced back at meand said, "Get the door, please." She turned to the kids and said, "The clown is here."As shouts of "Yay!" filled the air, I headed for the door. I really didn't want to open it, but I guess I had no choice. It won't be that bad, I told myself. I was wrong. He was standing on the porch. A clown. A creepy, spooky, shivery clown, who smelled like medicine and mildew. I couldn't pick out any one part of him that, by itself, was scary, but the sight of him stil