by R. L. Stine
People were moving all around the enormous studio. Sliding lights and sound equipment into place … rehearsing in small groups … talking and arguing … standing around, eating sandwiches and drinking coffee.
But Dad’s words made everything freeze in front of me in a flash of white light.
I don’t know how long I stood there, blinking at my dad, trying to understand what he had just told us … Trying to make my brain start working again.
Finally, it was Jamal who broke the silence. “Y-you took the tank?” he stuttered.
Dad nodded. “Yes, I did. I was afraid the tank was too close to the house. So I moved it in back of the garage.”
I blinked a few more times. I’ve heard about people in shock. I guess this was what it felt like.
Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “No dummies coming to life, Luke. No dummies plotting against me … planning to blow up my studio. Do you see why I don’t believe your horror story? Do you see why I’m angry that you tried to fool me? That you came here with that wild, insane plot and ruined my scene this afternoon?”
“I—I—” I stammered. I glanced at Kelly and Jamal. I could see they were as shocked and confused as I was.
“It was me,” Dad said. “I moved the tank. So you can see how ridiculous your story is.” He scratched his beard. “I really don’t understand the three of you. But I’ll be home later, and I’ll be expecting your apology.”
“What are you going to do now?” I asked in a tiny voice.
“Send you home, of course. I have a car outside. It will take you home. And I don’t expect you to go anywhere. Wait till I get home, and we’re going to have a long, long talk. You too, Jamal.”
I sighed. Okay. Okay. We were wrong about the propane tank. Maybe it was a crazy story to begin with. But we were right about the dummies. They were alive, and they were evil. And they were plotting against Dad.
We were right and Dad was wrong.
But as we rode home in the black Town Car Dad had shoved us into, we agreed there was no way we could ever convince him of the truth.
“He’ll never trust us again,” Kelly said, shaking her head. She had tears in her eyes. “No matter what we tell him, he’ll think of the dummy story, and he won’t believe us.”
“But what if we prove to your father that the dummies are alive?” Jamal asked.
I had my head propped up in my hands. I groaned. “How do we do that? We already tried like a million times, remember?”
Jamal nodded.
“The dummies go limp and lifeless whenever they feel like it,” Kelly said. “We can’t prove anything to Dad. We’re sunk. Totally sunk.”
We rode the rest of the way home in glum silence.
It’s a terrible feeling to know your dad thinks you are a liar. I guess I don’t need to say that. Everyone knows it. But as the car climbed the Hollywood Hills to our house, I had to fight back the tears. I don’t think I’d ever felt worse in my life.
We passed the low wall at the front of our yard, and the car turned and began to crunch over the gravel driveway. We came to a stop at the stone walk that leads to our front door.
I leaned over the seat and thanked the driver. He had a cap over his head and I couldn’t see his face. “Have a good one,” he called, without turning around.
The sun still shone brightly as the three of us piled out of the back seat. The flowers swayed and shimmered in the flower beds at both sides of the walk.
I sighed again and started to slump toward the house.
“Look on the bright side,” Jamal said. “At least no one is going to get blown up at your dad’s studio.”
I started to reply—but stopped when I heard a clank from the driveway. Startled, I spun around in time to see the trunk lid on the black Town Car pop open.
“Oh no!” A cry burst from my throat. Slappy and Snappy sat up.
The driver had already started to back down the driveway. But the two dummies scrambled out of the trunk. The trunk lid slammed shut as they landed on their feet on the gravel, their legs bobbing until they caught their balance.
Then they both staggered toward us as the car disappeared down the hill.
“Aren’t you going to welcome us home?” Slappy shouted. He tossed back his head and laughed. “Now it’s time for a REAL horror show!”
Jamal’s mouth hung open. Kelly took a step back and shot her arms out as if getting ready for a fight.
“What do you want?” I cried. “Why did you follow us home?”
“We don’t like you talking about us to your dad!” Slappy shouted. “And … we just plain don’t like you! Hahaha.”
Snappy swung an arm up and bumped his wooden hand against his twin’s shoulder. “Why are you such a hater, Slappy?” he demanded. “You have to deal with your anger issues.”
“Here’s how I deal with my anger issues!” Slappy cried. He leaped forward, arms raised in front of him. And before I could move, he jumped onto my back.
“Get OFF!” I screamed.
I tried to twist and toss him away. But the dummy wrapped his arms around me and held on. “Owww!” I cried out in pain as he bashed his wooden head into the back of my neck.
I ducked. I dropped to my knees. I spun around hard. But I couldn’t throw him off.
Kelly screamed. I saw Jamal hunched beside her, frozen in horror.
Slappy head-butted me again. And slapped my face with a hard wooden fist. “Well, well, Luke!” he cried. “Who’s the dummy now?”
He gave me a hard shove and I toppled face-first to the grass. My head hit the dirt. Pain shot down my body. He drove a fist into the back of my neck.
“Stop it, Slappy. You know I don’t approve of violence!” Snappy shouted.
And then to my surprise, Snappy bent over us and began tugging Slappy with both hands. Tugging Slappy off me.
I felt Slappy’s hands loosen and slide away. The two dummies tumbled into a heap on the lawn. I backed away, dizzy, my head still throbbing.
They untangled themselves and scrambled to their feet. Slappy gave his twin a hard shove. “Guess what I’m going to do on the next cold night?” he cried. “Use your head for firewood!”
“Now, now, Slappy,” Snappy scolded. “You know you have a temper problem.”
“My only problem is YOU—you weak piece of kindling!” Slappy screamed.
Before Snappy could react, Slappy swung his fist and punched him in the head. The punch made a loud clonnnk.
Snappy staggered back, lost his balance, and fell to the grass. He let out a long groan and shook his head, dazed.
Kelly, Jamal, and I cried out as Slappy strode up to his twin and kicked him in the head with his heavy wooden shoe.
Snappy groaned again. He dodged another kick and scrambled to his feet. He staggered forward and wrapped his arms around Slappy’s shoulders, and dragged him to the ground.
The three of us watched in shock as the dummies wrestled, rolling around, punching, head-butting, groaning, and screaming angrily.
“They’re going to tear each other apart!” Jamal cried, hands pressed against his cheeks.
But then Snappy freed himself from Slappy’s grip. He pulled himself up, shook his whole body hard, then started to run.
Slappy leaped to his feet. His jaw clicked up and down. And then he shouted, “Run, you crybaby! I’ll chop you into splinters!”
He took off after his twin, shaking a fist in the air.
“Where are they going?” Kelly demanded.
We watched them run along the side of the house. “Come on,” I said. I began to run after them.
“Should we call the police or something?” Jamal asked, trotting beside me.
I squinted at him. “Huh? Call the police and say what? Two dummies are fighting in our backyard?”
“They’re going into the garage!” Kelly cried, pointing.
I lowered my head and ran faster. I was desperate to see how this was going to end up.
To my surprise, the dummies
reached the garage but didn’t go inside. Instead, they ran alongside it, heading around back.
“Oh nooo!” A high wail burst from my throat. “The propane tank. That’s where it is!”
Behind the garage, Slappy caught up to Snappy and spun him around. He landed a hard punch in Snappy’s belly. Snappy grabbed his twin’s head in both hands and pulled. The craaaack of the head-butt echoed off the trees.
They fought along the garage wall. Then they stumbled into the yard behind the garage.
“The propane tank!” I shouted. “Stay away from the propane tank!”
Gasping for breath, I reached the back of the garage, turned—and saw the tall tank tilting slightly away from the garage wall.
“Stay away from it!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Stay away!”
But the two dummies were too involved in their battle to hear me.
“Oh noooo!” I heard Kelly’s long moan behind me. And I heard Jamal’s wheezing breaths.
And then, without saying a word to one another, the three of us were diving behind the low hedges at the side of the yard. Ducking for cover. Hurtling ourselves behind the safety of the hedges—because we saw what was about to happen.
We saw the battling, punching dummies stagger and stumble toward the tank. Screaming and groaning, they punched and wrestled—and tumbled closer … closer …
And then all three of us cried out as Slappy picked Snappy up off the ground—and heaved him with all his might into the tank.
I shut my eyes tight. I held my breath.
Would the tank explode?
Yes, it did.
I heard a bump as the heavy tank hit the ground. Then I heard a crackling sound, like the crack of distant thunder.
And then the thunder wasn’t distant. It was right overhead. Then it was all around, a deafening boooom that hurt my ears, shook the ground, and made the hedges in front of us tremble.
I opened my eyes in time to see a wall of flame shoot up like a tall wave over the back of the garage. I felt a powerful burst of heat against my face. Like a strong, hot wind, it pushed me back and flattened me on the ground. It swept over me with a roar, drowning out my shrieks of horror.
I raised my head in time to see the garage burst apart. The roof flew up, and the walls crumbled and fell. And as the roof sailed to the sky, spinning as it rose, I heard shrill screams.
The dummies screamed and wailed as they were blasted into the air. Their arms and legs fluttered in the explosion as if they were swimming.
One of them sailed high and far. Squinting into the hot flames, I saw him swoop over the trees, down the sloping hill. It looked like he might fly forever. He was gone in a few seconds, out of sight.
The other dummy landed with a thud on the grass at the back of our lawn. He bounced twice, then didn’t move.
“The garage is on fire!” Kelly’s scream shook me from my daze.
I could still feel the heat of the explosion on my face. I turned to Kelly and Jamal. “Are you okay?”
Kelly’s cheeks were red and her hair was standing straight up on her head. Jamal kept blinking his eyes and swallowing. He pulled a jagged stick of wood from his hair.
Flames danced over the broken, crumpled ruins of the garage. Lawn tools were scattered over the grass. A wheelbarrow floated in the swimming pool. The fire crackled and spit.
“Got to call 911!” I shouted. I turned toward the house—and gasped.
There stood Dad at the edge of the driveway.
I could see the flames reflected in his dark eyes. He had the angriest expression I’d ever seen on his face.
“Dad—” I started. “You’ve got to believe us …”
He hurried over to us. “Are you all okay? You didn’t get hurt?”
“We’re okay,” I said.
“Just a little shaken,” Jamal said.
Kelly rubbed her cheek. “My face feels sunburned.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Dad said. He wrapped the three of us in a hug.
Then he pulled out his phone. “Let me call 911. Get the fire department out here before the fire spreads.”
I waited until he stopped talking and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Boards crackled as a section of the burning rafters collapsed.
I took a deep breath. “Dad, I know you won’t believe us,” I said. “But we didn’t blow up the garage. The dummies—”
He raised a hand to silence me.
“No, Dad,” I protested. “You’ve got to let us talk. The dummies knocked over the tank and caused the explosion.”
He still had his hand raised. “I know,” he said.
All three of us cried out.
“What did you say?” Kelly demanded.
“I know the dummies did it,” Dad said.
We stared at him. I let out a long sigh of relief.
“I decided to follow you home,” Dad explained. “I was worried about you because of all that crazy dummy talk. I thought you three were living in some kind of fantasy world. When I got here, I saw the dummies fighting.”
I gasped. “You saw them?”
Dad nodded. “So …” He rubbed his beard. “So I realized I’d been wrong. I’d been acting like a jerk. I should have believed you kids right from the beginning.”
I heard sirens in the distance. The fire trucks were on the way.
The flames had died down a bit. Clouds of black smoke rose from the smoldering boards.
“I saw the dummies wrestling and trying to kill each other,” Dad continued, speaking softly. “I was too much in shock to try and stop them. And I never dreamed their fight would end up blowing our garage to pieces.”
“We tried to tell you—” Jamal insisted.
Dad nodded. “I know. I owe you kids a million apologies. I really do.” His expression brightened. “But don’t worry. I’m going to take care of these two evil dummies—right now.”
“One of them was blown away in the explosion,” I said.
Dad nodded again. “I know. I saw him go. Good riddance. And now I’m going to get rid of this one, too.”
He reached down and lifted the dummy off the grass.
“Dad—what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Toss him in the fire,” Dad said, taking a few steps toward the crackling flames at the back wall.
“But you said the dummies are valuable,” Kelly said.
Dad raised the dummy in front of him. “I don’t care. They’re not as valuable as believing in my kids. Say good-bye to this evil thing.”
He raised the dummy above his head and started to heave it into the flames.
“No—Dad!” I cried, grabbing his arm. “Wait!”
Dad hesitated with the dummy raised in the air. “Luke? What’s your problem?”
“One of the dummies is good,” I explained. “The one named Snappy is the good one. He’s always trying to get his brother Slappy to be nice.”
“Luke is right,” Kelly chimed in. “If this dummy is Snappy, Dad, you don’t have to destroy him. It’s Slappy who is the evil one.”
Dad lowered the dummy in front of him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m sure. Really. You can believe us.”
Dad turned the dummy around in his hands and studied it. “Well, how can you tell? They’re identical. How can you tell one from the other?”
“It’s easy,” Jamal spoke up. “Slappy, the evil one, has green eyes. The good twin has black eyes.”
All three of us turned to study the dummy’s eyes. Black.
“This is Snappy,” I told my dad. “You don’t have to burn him. He’s okay. He’s the good one.”
Dad squinted at the dummy. “Well …”
Fire trucks roared to a stop at the bottom of our driveway. The sirens all wailed their shrill warning, making birds fly up from all the trees. Black-uniformed firefighters in boots and long rubber slickers came leaping off the trucks.
Dad shoved Snappy into my arms and hurried to meet them. “This way, guys!” he
shouted, waving wildly. “This way!”
I gazed at Snappy. The collar of his white shirt was burned brown from the fire and one jacket sleeve had a ragged black burn at the cuff. Otherwise, he seemed untouched by the flames.
I carried him up to Dad’s horror museum in the attic and sat him down on the top of the glass display case. The three of us stood watching him.
“Snappy,” I said. “Are you still alive? Can you hear us?”
His jaw clicked noisily up and down. His black eyes blinked.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” he said. “Now I don’t have to pretend to be nice anymore.”
I swallowed. “Pretend?”
He nodded. “Slappy thought it was fun for me to fool you. But do you have any idea how hard it was for me to be the good one? But he’s gone now, and I’m here … and it’s no more Mr. Nice Guy. Line up, slaves! Stand at attention when your new master speaks to you!”
“But—but—Snappy—” I stammered.
“Let’s start our new movie!” he cried. “What shall we call it? How about SNAPPY RULES!”
Wow, dudes. That ending was a BLAST—wasn’t it?
I was sorry to fly off without saying good-bye. No one even wished me “Happy landings!” Hahaha!
At least those kids got their drone to fly. Too bad the rest of the garage had to fly with it! Haha.
Well … don’t worry about me, slaves. I don’t go to pieces when these little accidents happen. I’ll get myself together real soon.
Don’t think you can escape Slappy. I’ll be back before you know it with another Goosebumps story.
Remember, this is SlappyWorld.
You only scream in it!
I took a big bite of the fluffy blue candy. I could feel the powdery sugar stick to my face.
Karla pointed to the cone in my hand. “Jordan, you have a spider in your cotton candy,” she said.
I let out a loud “ULLLLLLP!” and the cone went flying into the air. I watched it land with a soft plop onto the pavement.
Karla tossed back her head and laughed. “You’re too easy!”
Mom shook her head. “Karla, why are you always scaring your brother?”