SWEET DREAM PIE

People in houses are upended, and cats and dogs tumble down Willobee Street when Ma Brindle gets out her ``extra-large utensils,'' scratches up some dough, and rolls out a crust for her famous Sweet Dream Pie. Every known candy is mixed into an enormous batter, sending a chocolate tornado through the otherwise average neighborhood. A pie the size of a wading pool comes out of the oven as a clan of rotund, pop-eyed folks bring their giant appetites to gobble down not just one piece, but seconds, thirds, and more, despite Ma Brindle's warning. Wood parodies the gluttony as people and pets become sleepy-eyed sacks of potatoes from overeating—slumping over fences, lolling over windowsills, passing out under bushes. Giant-sized, round-bellied monsters overrun the streets until a broom-wielding Ma Brindle takes charge, setting things right. Teague, who previously collaborated with Wood on The Flying Dragon Room (1996), bends the rules and the landscape by using a distorted, skewed perspective with houses a-tilt, lampposts leaning, and beveled panoramic street scenes, often seen from an aerial view. It accentuates the author's fondness for the preposterous, and follows the badly paced text to a deflated ending. After the tall-tale build-up to the pie's alleged effects, the monsters amount to little more than a burp of indigestion. (Picture book. 4-8)