Bride of the Living Dummy Read online

  “Hi, doll,” I made Slappy say.

  “Don’t call me doll!” Harrison made Mary-Ellen reply in a high, shrill voice. “I’ll slap your face!”

  “That’s okay with me. Why do you think my name is Slappy?” I made the dummy exclaim.

  A few kids laughed at that. I glanced down and saw Eddie make a disgusted face.

  “You’re a blockhead!” Mary-Ellen cried in her high voice. “I’ll bet you have termites!”

  “You shouldn’t call names,” Slappy replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s my job!” Slappy exclaimed. “You’re too dumb to call names, Mary-Ellen. Do you know the difference between a dead skunk and a peanut butter sandwich?”

  “No. What’s the difference?”

  I made Slappy shake his head. “Remind me never to ask you for a sandwich!”

  Several kids laughed at that joke.

  But I looked down and saw Eddie still frowning. “That isn’t very funny,” he called up to me. “Can’t you be funnier?”

  “You want funnier?” Slappy suddenly shouted. “I’ll show you something funnier, kid!”

  I gasped. I hadn’t made Slappy say that!

  Before I could do anything, the dummy tilted back his head. He opened his jaws wide.

  I heard a gurgling sound from deep inside Slappy’s stomach.

  And then I cried out as the gurgling grew to a roar.

  And a thick green liquid poured out of Slappy’s open mouth.

  It gushed out like water from a fire hose. Thick green gunk. Thick as pea soup.

  Slappy turned his head and sprayed the green goo over the kids. It splattered Eddie Simkin at my feet. Splashed over the walls, the floor. Sprayed over the other kids.

  “Ohhhhhh. The smell!” a girl cried.

  A foul, putrid odor rose up all around.

  Slappy tilted his head back further. Turned. The disgusting green liquid spewed over everyone.

  Kids squealed and cried out in disgust. I saw a boy stand up and try to run. But his feet slid in the green gunk, and he toppled back to the floor, facedown in the goo.

  “It’s in my eyes!” a boy screamed. “It’s burning my eyes!”

  “Ohhhhhh.” Moans of horror and disgust rose up over the basement.

  I tried to slap my hand over the dummy’s mouth to stop the spray.

  But Slappy jerked away from me. I cried out as he slid off my lap. He dropped to the floor. Stood on two feet. Tilted up his head and spewed out more of the stinking, thick liquid.

  Kids were trying to scramble away. Some were crying. I saw two boys bent over, vomiting on the floor.

  I turned to Harrison. “What are we going to do?”

  But before Harrison could answer, Slappy took two steps across the floor. He grabbed Eddie Simkin with both wooden hands.

  And with surprising strength, Slappy dragged the terrified boy across the room.

  “Slappy — stop!” I choked out.

  He turned to me, his evil grin wider than ever. His eyes ablaze with excitement.

  “This is MY party now!” Slappy screamed. “I want my bride!”

  “He’s hurting me!” Eddie shrieked. “Get him off! Get him off!”

  “Keep away from me!” Slappy barked. “I’ll hurt him! I’ll hurt him BAD!” He jerked Eddie hard, yanking him across the floor.

  I froze in horror. Kids were screaming and crying, slipping and falling in the sickening green gunk.

  This can’t be happening! I told myself.

  I turned to Harrison. His hair was soaked in the green liquid. It had splashed over his shirt and jeans.

  “What can we do?” I cried over the screams of the kids.

  He gave me a helpless shrug.

  “I’m going for help!” I told him. I took off toward the basement stairs.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Slappy demanded angrily. He jerked Eddie from side to side.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me!” Eddie wailed.

  My sneakers slid in the green goo. I raised both arms. Caught my balance. Started to run again.

  I didn’t see Slappy’s foot jerk up. He tripped me, and I fell forward.

  “Ohhhhh!” I let out a cry of disgust as I went facedown in the stinking liquid. I slid on my stomach for a few feet. Rolled onto my side. Pulled myself to my feet.

  I wiped the green gunk off my face. I was covered in it.

  “If you go upstairs, I’ll hurt them all!” Slappy rasped. His shrill voice sent chills down my back.

  I slid to a stop and spun around. “Don’t touch any of them!” I screamed.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” Eddie squirmed and struggled to break free. But the dummy’s wooden hands clamped harder on the boy’s shoulders.

  Slappy’s evil grin grew wider. His round eyes rolled with excitement.

  “This is MY party now!” he cried. “But I don’t WANT a birthday party! I want a WEDDING party! I’m ready to claim my bride!”

  I stared at him, my heart pounding. The sickening smell of the green gunk made my stomach churn.

  “I want my BRIDE!” Slappy demanded at the top of his lungs. “I want my bride — NOW!”

  “Okay!” I cried, my voice trembly and weak. “Okay. If we give you your bride, do you promise to go away with her? Do you promise you’ll take her away and not hurt anyone here?”

  The dummy’s eyes flashed. He nodded his grinning, wooden head.

  “Yesssss,” he hissed. “I will take my bride away!”

  “Okay. Okay. Okay,” I replied breathlessly, thinking hard. I turned to Harrison. “Give Slappy his bride,” I instructed him.

  Harrison gaped at me. “Huh?”

  “His bride,” I repeated, motioning with both hands. “Mary-Ellen. Give Slappy his bride.”

  “Oh.” Harrison caught on. He raised Mary-Ellen in both hands. Then he crossed the room to Slappy. And handed the big doll to him.

  Slappy stared at Mary-Ellen for a long moment.

  Then, to my shock, he let out an angry growl — and heaved the doll across the basement.

  “Are you CRAZY?” Slappy screamed. “That ugly piece of junk! She can’t be my bride!”

  Slappy reached out and grabbed me by the wrist.

  “Jillian, YOU are my bride!” he cried.

  “OW!” I cried out as the dummy’s grip tightened around my wrist.

  I tugged hard. Jerked my arm around. But I couldn’t pull free.

  Around the room, kids were screaming and crying. I saw two girls hugging each other against the wall, their legs trembling.

  Eddie stood in the middle of the room hugging himself, his teeth chattering from fear.

  I looked for Katie and Amanda. They were huddled by the stairs, covered in green goo.

  Harrison stood in shock, his mouth hanging open. He took a step toward me, his sneakers splashing in the green slime.

  Grinning fiercely, Slappy tugged me closer. He pressed his wooden face against my ear.

  “You will be my slave,” he whispered. “You will be my slave for the rest of your life!”

  “No!” I screamed.

  I tugged again. Tugged with all my strength to pull myself free.

  But the evil dummy’s grip tightened even more. I couldn’t move.

  I turned to Harrison. I opened my mouth to tell him to run up the stairs, to bring the parents from next door.

  But before I could say a word, a voice rang out through the basement.

  A female voice. An angry voice.

  “Let GO of that girl, Slappy!” the voice cried. “She isn’t your bride! I AM!”

  I turned to see who was screaming.

  Mary-Ellen!

  Kids screamed and cried. Four girls huddled against the wall, hugging each other.

  The big doll clomped across the floor, her frizzy hair flying behind her. She stomped right over two kids. Her hands were clenched into tight fists.

  “You worthless stick of rotting wood!” she screamed at Slappy. Sh
e strode up to him and gave him a hard shove with both fists.

  Startled, Slappy staggered back.

  His hand slid off me. Rubbing my throbbing wrist, I backed away.

  Mary-Ellen grabbed Slappy by the throat. “I didn’t bring you to life for HER!” she exclaimed furiously. “I am your bride!”

  “Huh?” I let out a gasp. I narrowed my eyes at the fierce doll. “You brought Slappy to life?” I choked out.

  The doll nodded. She shook Slappy hard. “You toothpick!” she snarled. “I’ll turn you into SAW DUST if you don’t shape up!”

  As I gaped in shock, Katie and Amanda came running up to me.

  “We wanted to tell you, Jillian,” Katie sobbed. “But Mary-Ellen wouldn’t let us. The first day Dad brought her home, she started talking to us. Ordering us around. She said if we told anyone, she’d hurt us. We didn’t know what to do. We were so scared. We never had a doll who was really alive!”

  “Mary-Ellen did everything!” Amanda cried. “She stuffed your lizard in Slappy’s mouth. She broke the dishes and threw the spaghetti everywhere. She scribbled those messages in your room.”

  “She carried the dummy everywhere,” Katie added. “Mary-Ellen made Amanda and me say it was the dummy who did everything. But Slappy wasn’t alive — until the party! He was never alive! Mary-Ellen did everything!”

  “She wanted to hurt you and get you in trouble,” Amanda told me.

  A doll and a dummy — both alive. Both evil. The room started to spin around me.

  I turned to Mary-Ellen. “Why?” I choked out. “Why did you do all those things to me?”

  The doll’s lips formed an angry sneer. “Because you said you hated me,” she growled. “Because you never wanted the girls to take me anywhere. You slapped me, Jillian, and tossed me away, and shoved my head into the macaroni.”

  Mary-Ellen’s eyes flared with fury. “Did you think I couldn’t hear you?” she screamed. “I heard every word you said about me, Jillian. And so I used the dummy to fool you and take my revenge. I didn’t bring him to life until tonight, just before the party. Our wedding party!”

  Katie squeezed my hand. “Amanda and I wanted to tell you the truth,” she sobbed. “But Mary-Ellen said she’d hurt us. She said we had to take care of her forever.”

  “We hated her! But she made us take her everywhere,” Amanda cried, taking my other hand. “She was so mean to us!”

  “Enough talk!” Mary-Ellen screeched. She spun Slappy around. “And now, Slappy and I will rule together. And you — Jillian — you will be our slave. I plan to make you suffer — for the rest of your life!”

  She turned to Slappy. “Right, my darling? Am I right?”

  “No way!” Slappy cried. “No way! I’m done with you, you’re only a doll.”

  Slappy reached out toward the doll’s head. He made a gesture with his hand like shutting off a light switch.

  “Night, night,” he said.

  Mary-Ellen uttered a shocked groan — and crumpled to the floor.

  “I will rule!” Slappy declared, raising both hands high above his head in victory. “But not with a rag doll like you!”

  Grinning in triumph, Slappy spun around and grabbed my wrist again. “Come with me!” he ordered.

  “Let go of me! Let go!” I shrieked.

  “Never!” he cried. “You are my bride now, Jillian. You will go wherever I tell you to go.” The wooden hand clamped around my wrist.

  “Oww!” I wailed. “Let go! Let go!”

  He tossed back his head and uttered a scornful laugh.

  “Ohhhhh.” I groaned.

  “What’s your PROBLEM, Jillian?” the dummy demanded. He tossed back his head in another high-pitched laugh.

  My head spinning, I struggled to force down the panic that froze me, struggled to pull free.

  But he squeezed my wrist until I screamed. “You’ll never get away, my bride!” he screamed. “Never!”

  Then, to my surprise, he released me. His heavy wooden hand shot up in the air. He cried out in shock.

  I staggered back. Rubbed my aching wrist.

  What had happened?

  I lowered my gaze — and saw that Mary-Ellen had revived. She had grabbed Slappy’s legs. Pulled him away from me. And jerked him down to the floor.

  The kids screamed and cried. Katie and Amanda huddled together against the wall. I stumbled back to Harrison as the doll and the dummy began to fight.

  They wrestled over the floor, rolling over and over through the disgusting green goo.

  Up on their feet, their arms tightening around each other, they wrestled, shoved each other against the walls, stumbled over terrified kids, knocked over the two wooden stools, toppled the birthday cake to the floor.

  Grunting and moaning, they wrestled, tearing at each other, slapping, pulling each other over the sticky green goo.

  Into Dad’s workshop.

  I stumbled after them. They bounced off the work table. Stumbled over the coffee table Dad had been working on for so long. Rolled on top of it, spreading green gunk over the polished wood.

  And then … then … it all happened so fast.

  I saw Slappy’s hand shoot out. Saw him flick on the buzz saw.

  The roar of the big saw made me cover my ears with my hands.

  And as I stared in shock, my hands to my head, I saw Slappy shove Mary-Ellen … shove her … shove her into the whirring buzz saw blade.

  The saw whined — a deafening, shrill whine — as it cut the big doll in half.

  The blade sawed through her easily. Her bottom half — her legs, her skirt — dropped to the floor beside the big saw.

  Slappy tossed back his head. And laughed. Laughed in triumph. His laughter rose above the roar of the saw.

  And then his laugh cut short. His grin faded. The dummy’s eyes bulged in horror.

  Mary-Ellen’s top half held on to Slappy.

  Her hands gripped him … gripped him tightly. And pulled him through the whirring saw blade!

  The blade sliced Slappy across the waist. Sliced him in half.

  Both halves fell to the floor.

  I stared down at the doll and the dummy. Both sliced in half.

  Both lifeless now. Lifeless once again.

  Struggling to catch my breath, to slow my pounding heart, I clicked off the saw. The blade whirred silently, slowing to a stop.

  I let out a long sigh of relief. Stared down at the lifeless doll, the lifeless dummy. Lying so still now.

  Walking on trembling legs, I stared down at Slappy. Bent over his top half. Bent down to make sure he had no life left in him.

  And his hand shot up — and grabbed my leg.

  “Ohhhhh!” I uttered a cry of horror. I fell back.

  Slappy’s hand crumpled. Clunked lifelessly to the floor.

  He didn’t move again.

  I took a deep breath and held it. I shut my eyes and counted to ten, struggling to calm myself.

  A commotion behind me made me open my eyes and spin around. I saw Harrison running down the stairs. Several parents followed him. I realized he had run next door to get them.

  Kids were screaming and crying. I hugged Katie and Amanda.

  Mom and Dad stopped halfway down the stairs. “Jillian — what’s all the noise?” Mom called. “What is this disgusting mess?”

  “Well,” I replied, “it’s kind of a long story….”

  * * *

  “Harrison — what are you doing with that?” I asked.

  “Just reading it,” he replied.

  It was nearly ten o’clock that night. I was finally starting to feel better. My heartbeat had returned to normal. My legs had stopped trembling.

  We had spent the rest of the day apologizing to Mrs. Simkin and the other parents. Then we all pitched in to clean up the basement.

  Mom and Dad were still demanding a full explanation. I wasn’t sure how I could ever explain.

  Now Harrison and I were on the couch in the den. Katie and Amanda were sprawled on
the floor, watching TV.

  Harrison was leaning over the ventriloquist’s diary, reading it slowly, carefully, with great interest.

  “I can’t believe you stole that old diary,” I said.

  He raised a finger to his lips. “Sshhh. This is very interesting.”

  I groaned. “Why are you still reading that thing? It’s all over. We don’t have anything more to worry about.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Harrison replied softly.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “Listen to what the diary says,” Harrison replied. “It says that even if the dummy is destroyed, the evil may not die.”

  “Huh?” I cried. “It says what?”

  Harrison held the little book closer to read it. “It says the dummy’s body may be destroyed — but the evil spirit may not be killed. It will just move on to another body.”

  I shook my head. “Well, that’s ridiculous,” I said. “Slappy is dead. Dead, dead, dead.”

  Harrison shrugged. “The diary says the evil can be passed to someone who was close to the dummy.”

  I turned to Katie and Amanda. “That’s ridiculous — isn’t it, girls?”

  They looked up from the TV and grinned at Harrison and me.

  I narrowed my eyes and studied them. Why do they have such strange grins on their faces? I wondered.

  I stared at them for a long while.

  “Harrison,” I whispered. “Guess what? I’m finally going to get my revenge.”

  I titled back my head, opened my mouth wide, turned to my sisters — and spewed thick green gunk all over them.

  “Where are you going, Elf?” Dad called from the den.

  “Don’t call me Elf!” I shouted back. “My name is Drew.”

  Dad thinks it’s real cute to call me Elf, but I hate it. He calls me Elf because I’m tiny for a twelve-year-old. And I have short, straight black hair and sort of a pointy chin and a pointy little nose.

  If you looked like an elf, would you want people calling you Elf?

  Of course not.

  One day my best friend, Walker Parkes, heard my dad call me Elf. So Walker tried it. “What’s up, Elf?” Walker said.