Bride of the Living Dummy

by R. L. Stine

Jimmy O’James laughed too. But I saw more sweat pour down his forehead. “Very funny, Slappy. But — no more insults. Be nice — or I’ll have a new job for you.”

  “New job?” Slappy asked. “What new job?”

  “I’ll get you a job as a crash test dummy.”

  “Haha. Remind me to laugh,” Slappy growled. “You’re about as funny as stomach cramps.”

  “Slappy — please. Give me a break,” Jimmy pleaded.

  Suddenly, Slappy turned sweet again. “Want to hear a compliment?” he asked. “Can I give you a compliment, Jimmy?”

  The ventriloquist nodded. “A compliment? Yes. That’s better. Let’s hear it.”

  “YOU STINK!” Slappy shrieked.

  Jimmy looked hurt. “That’s not a compliment,” he said.

  “I know. I lied!” Slappy exclaimed. He tossed back his head and opened his mouth in a scornful laugh.

  Katie and Amanda were on the edge of their seats, leaning over the seats in front of them, laughing. I turned and saw that Harrison was laughing too.

  “This guy is really funny,” Harrison said. “That dummy has a baaad attitude!”

  “Yeah. I guess,” I replied.

  “You can’t even see the ventriloquist’s lips move,” Harrison said. “He’s pretty awesome.”

  “Jimmy, you should be on the dollar bill,” Slappy was saying. “Because your face is all green and wrinkled!”

  The twins laughed and slapped the seats in front of them.

  “Or maybe you should be on the penny!” Slappy screamed. “Know why? Know why? Because you’re practically worthless! You’re worthless, Jimmy! Worthless!”

  Sweat poured down Jimmy O’James’s forehead. He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes as the dummy screamed at him.

  Why does Jimmy look so unhappy, so upset? I wondered.

  Why does he look so afraid?

  “Let’s stop the insults and talk to some of the kids,” Jimmy suggested to the dummy. “You’ll be nice to the kids — won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Slappy replied. “I’m a nice guy.”

  The ventriloquist stood up and leaned over the front of the stage. “Who would like to come up and meet Slappy?”

  Dozens of hands shot up. Before I realized what was happening, Katie and Amanda were pushing to the aisle. Then they went running onto the stage. Katie dragged Mary-Ellen with her.

  “Oh, wow,” I murmured. “This should be interesting….”

  “That doll is almost as big as you are!” Jimmy O’James exclaimed.

  Slappy leaned down toward Mary-Ellen. “You’re pretty,” he told the doll. “Pretty ugly!”

  The audience laughed hard. My little sisters didn’t laugh. Katie struggled to hold up the big doll.

  “So you’re twins, huh?” Slappy growled. “What do you call yourselves — The Gruesome Twosome?”

  Slappy tossed back his head and let out a high- pitched giggle. A few kids in the audience laughed. But most of them didn’t think that was funny.

  “I’ll bet you share everything, don’t you?” Slappy said to my sisters. “Which one of you is using the brain today?”

  Slappy laughed again. Jimmy grabbed him with both hands and shook him. “Stop it, Slappy!” he screamed angrily. “Stop insulting the kids!”

  “They love it!” Slappy declared. “They love me — and hate you!”

  I leaned forward, my heart pounding. Katie and Amanda looked really unhappy. Why was the ventriloquist making Slappy say those mean things to them?

  Beside me, Harrison was laughing hard. “This guy is a riot!” he declared.

  “I don’t think it’s very funny,” I confessed.

  “Girls, I think you’re a lot like Niagara Falls,” Slappy growled.

  Katie and Amanda exchanged confused glances.

  “Slappy, you say they’re like Niagara Falls, the waterfall?” Jimmy asked. “Why do you say that?”

  “They’re both big drips!” Slappy cried.

  “That’s not very nice!” Katie protested.

  The audience grew silent.

  “Girls, I think you’d better go back to your seats,” Jimmy O’James said, shaking his head. “Slappy isn’t in a very good mood today.”

  The girls turned and hurried off the stage. Katie tripped and nearly dropped Mary-Ellen.

  “Get your doll a flea collar!” Slappy called after them.

  The girls pushed their way back through the row and plopped into their seats. Katie scowled angrily. Amanda shook her head. I could see she was blushing.

  Katie leaned over to talk to me. “That was really mean,” she whispered.

  “He wasn’t funny,” Amanda added. I could see teardrops form in the corners of her eyes. “I — I was so embarrassed.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassed. I was just angry,” Katie whispered.

  Two teardrops rolled down Amanda’s cheeks. Katie never cries. But Amanda cries if you look at her funny.

  “That’s just his act,” I told them. “Some people think insults are funny. If I was up there and Slappy said those things about me, you’d laugh your heads off!”

  They didn’t reply. They settled back in their chairs, and we watched the rest of the show. Amanda stared up at the stage, frowning, her arms crossed over her chest. Katie hugged Mary-Ellen tightly. Neither girl smiled once.

  Harrison was the only one who seemed to enjoy the show. “Being a ventriloquist looks like fun,” he told me. “You get to say horrible things to people — and everyone blames the dummy!”

  The ventriloquist finished his act with a song. He sang one line, and then Slappy sang the other.

  “Let’s all give it up for Jimmy O’James and his funny friend Slappy!” a voice boomed from offstage.

  Everyone clapped and cheered. Everyone but Katie and Amanda.

  Then we started to make our way along the row to the aisle. Katie and Amanda led the way. “Sorry you didn’t enjoy the show,” I said to them.

  “We’re going to tell that ventriloquist he’s mean,” Katie declared.

  “Excuse me?” It was so noisy in the big theater, I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly.

  “We’re going to tell him he shouldn’t do that to kids,” Amanda said.

  “He isn’t funny at all,” Katie complained. “And we think he should say he’s sorry.”

  “No, wait — ” I started.

  They pushed their way into the crowded aisle. Everyone was heading to the exits. The girls turned the other way and scooted toward the stage.

  “Wait — !” I cried. “I don’t think that’s a good idea! Hey — Katie? Amanda? Come back!”

  Too late. I saw them pull open a little door at the side of the stage and disappear behind it.

  I stopped short. Harrison bumped right into me.

  “Ow!” He’s so big. It was like being bumped by an elephant.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Where did your sisters go?”

  I pointed to the door beside the stage.

  “But everyone is leaving!” he cried.

  “They want to talk to the ventriloquist,” I told him. I had to shout over the loud voices of the kids. Two little boys scooted in front of me, swatting at each other as they ran.

  I grabbed the sleeve of Harrison’s T-shirt. “Come on. Help me find them,” I said.

  I tugged him to the door and pulled it open. We both tried to go through at once — and got jammed together in the doorway.

  “Haven’t you had enough comedy for one day?” I wailed.

  He stepped back, and I moved through the doorway. We found ourselves in a long, narrow hallway. I squinted into the darkness, but I could barely see a thing.

  “Weird,” Harrison muttered. His voice echoed off the concrete walls. “It’s like a tunnel. Are you sure that was the stage door?”

  “How should I know?” I snapped. “I just know the girls went in here.”

  We started walking into the hall. I trailed one hand along the wall. Harrison stayed close beside me. />
  “Where are they?” I cried. My voice echoed. “They couldn’t have gone far.”

  “Hey — Katie? Amanda?” Harrison called.

  We stopped and listened. No reply.

  “They’re always doing this to me!” I declared through gritted teeth. “Remember when they disappeared after the circus? I was so worried. I was so scared they were lost or hurt or something. I searched and searched for them. And they were hiding in the bleachers, watching me the whole time!”

  “Katie? Amanda?” Harrison’s voice boomed down the long, dark hallway.

  Silence.

  “Why don’t they have any lights back here?” Harrison demanded. “If this is the stage door …”

  “YAAAIIIII!” I let out a scream as something soft and scratchy wrapped around my arm.

  Harrison spun around. “Jillian — what is it?” he cried.

  I shook my hand hard. I scraped at it with my other hand.

  “A — a spiderweb!” I choked out. “Yuck. As thick as a bedsheet.” I struggled to pull it off me. “Ohhh.” I uttered a low moan. My whole body prickled and itched.

  “This can’t be the stage entrance,” Harrison muttered.

  “Katie? Amanda?” I shrieked. “They’re probably hiding,” I told Harrison. “I’m going to kill them this time. I really am.”

  Harrison suddenly grabbed my arm. “Jillian — duck!”

  I lowered my head. More cobwebs hung down from the ceiling.

  The tunnel curved to the right. We stepped into a wash of gray light. I heard voices up ahead.

  “Hey — !” I called. “Katie? Amanda? Where are you?”

  I heard a girl laugh. But it didn’t sound like one of my sisters.

  “I think the dressing rooms must be back here,” Harrison said. We passed a door marked STAGE CREW ONLY and then a door with the word PROPS stenciled at the top.

  I heard a woman yell, “Hurry up.”

  And then two boys laughed and sang part of a song.

  We started to jog. I knew we were getting close.

  “Katie? Amanda?” I called. “You’d better not be hiding from me!”

  The hall split into two narrower hallways. Harrison and I stopped and stared in both directions. The hall that led to the right was brightly lit. I started to lead the way to it — but then I heard voices in the other hall.

  “Let’s split up,” I said. I pointed to the right. “Take that one. If you find them, drag them to the front of the theater. I’ll meet you there.”

  I trotted into the hall on the left. “Take no prisoners!” I heard Harrison call. Then he disappeared from sight.

  I moved quickly past doors with stars’ names stenciled on them. These must be the dressing rooms, I told myself.

  I slowed down when I heard voices up ahead.

  “You promised me — ” a man whined.

  Light spilled out from a door opened halfway. I crept up to it.

  “You can’t do that to me!” the man continued. He sounded very angry, very frantic.

  “You’re blowing hot air on me!” another voice replied. A shrill, tinny voice. Slappy’s voice!

  I crept up to the half-open door. Keeping myself hidden, I leaned my head forward and peeked inside.

  “You ruined everything!” Jimmy O’James cried angrily. He held Slappy in his arm, just as he had onstage. “You really hurt me. I mean it. You hurt me.”

  “Your face hurts me!” the dummy snarled back.

  What’s going on here? I wondered. I took a step closer. I leaned into the doorway.

  They really seemed to be arguing. But that was impossible!

  Why on earth was the ventriloquist doing this?

  Jimmy O’James took a long drink from a bottle of water. “I can’t let you do this!” he sputtered. “I have to stop it — now.”

  The dummy let out a low growl. “Stop this!” he grunted.

  And to my shock, the dummy swung his arm — hard.

  His wooden fist slammed against the ventriloquist’s face.

  Jimmy O’James staggered back. He grabbed his nose. Blood trickled down his chin.

  Huh? I gaped in amazement. The dummy had given him a bloody nose!

  Something is wrong here, I told myself.

  Something is very wrong.

  I raised my eyes — and cried out.

  Jimmy O’James was staring at the doorway.

  He saw me.

  The ventriloquist’s eyes bulged.

  The dummy turned too. Slappy’s mouth dropped open. Then his head drooped, and his whole body collapsed.

  Jimmy O’James set Slappy down on a table. Then he turned back to me. “I didn’t see you there,” he said. His dark eyes studied me. He grabbed a tissue off the table and wiped at his bleeding nose.

  “He — he hit you!” I stammered, pointing at Slappy.

  “Huh?” The ventriloquist glanced at Slappy, then shook his head. “No. He didn’t hit me. He slipped from my arm, and his hand bumped me. That’s all.”

  “But — but I saw you arguing!” I sputtered.

  Jimmy O’James snickered. “I was just rehearsing. Just practicing. I’m doing another show with Slappy tonight.” He dabbed at his nose with the tissue.

  I felt so confused. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought — ”

  “He’s just a dummy,” the ventriloquist said. “He’s not alive.”

  I gazed at Slappy, folded on the table. He’d looked kind of cute onstage. But now I could see his crooked, painted smile and cold, staring eyes. Even though he smiled, his expression appeared angry, almost cruel.

  “I really thought you were fighting with him,” I told Jimmy O’James.

  He lowered the tissue and smiled. “I guess that makes me a great ventriloquist!” His smile faded. “Are you lost or something?”

  “Oh. No.” I suddenly remembered why I had wandered back there. “My sisters ran away,” I told him. “They were looking for you. Have you seen them?”

  He shook his head. “No. Nobody.”

  “I’d better find them,” I said. “Sorry I bothered you.” I turned from the doorway.

  “No problem,” the ventriloquist called after me.

  “No problem,” a shrill, hoarse voice — Slappy’s voice — repeated.

  * * *

  I found the twins at a water fountain near the rest-rooms at the back of the lobby. I rushed up to them breathlessly. “I’ve been searching all over for you!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “Giving Mary-Ellen a drink,” Katie replied. She and Amanda held the big doll up to the fountain and squirted water on her face.

  “You shouldn’t have run away,” I scolded.

  “We didn’t! We walked!” Katie insisted. “We got lost in a long tunnel and ended up here.”

  I grabbed each of them by an arm. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  “But Mary-Ellen is still drinking!” Amanda cried.

  “And we’re not going home,” Katie added.

  “Excuse me? What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “You promised you’d take us for ice cream,” Katie replied. She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “You promised.”

  “Okay, okay,” I muttered. The lobby was nearly empty. The overhead lights were dim. “Have you seen Harrison?” I asked.

  “He was talking to some guys,” Amanda reported. She slung the big doll over her shoulder. The doll’s face was dripping wet.

  “He probably met some friends,” I said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  I took them to the Dairy Queen on the corner. We had chocolate-vanilla swirl cones. They made me buy one for Mary-Ellen too.

  We sat in a booth in the corner, and they pretended to feed it to her. They talked to Mary-Ellen the whole time and never said a word to me.

  Do you understand why I hate that doll? Ever since Dad brought the ugly thing home from a yard sale, the twins have totally ignored me. And they use the doll to drive me crazy!

  “Mary-Ellen likes the chocol
ate better than the vanilla,” Katie reported.

  I groaned. “Can’t we talk about something else? I really don’t care what Mary-Ellen likes.”

  They ignored me and pretended to feed her more ice cream. I checked my watch. The whole day was wasted! I had a ton of homework to do. And I wanted to call some friends to see what they were doing tonight.

  Finally, they finished their cones. They had more ice cream on their faces than in their stomachs! Mary-Ellen too! It took an entire pack of napkins to get them cleaned up.

  Then I practically had to drag them home. They kept stopping and pointing out houses and trees and cars to Mary-Ellen. It took hours to walk four blocks!

  By the time we reached home, I wanted to tear that doll apart. Tear her apart and stuff her pieces in the trash.

  The girls hurried to find Mom. I was so glad to get away from them. I made my way into the living room.

  And stopped with a gasp.

  Slappy was sitting on the couch!

  I let out a sharp cry.

  “How … how did you get here?” I stammered.

  The dummy stared back at me with that crooked smile and those cold eyes.

  Then he snickered. His laugh started softly, then grew louder.

  I gasped. This isn’t happening, I told myself.

  Harrison popped up from behind the couch. His dark eyes flashed gleefully. He was grinning so hard, I thought his face would break!

  “Jillian, did you really think the dummy was laughing?” Harrison demanded.

  “No. Of course not!” I lied.

  “Then why did you talk to him?” Harrison asked.

  I stepped up to the couch. “Where did you get that thing?” I cried. “What is he doing here?”

  “He followed me home.” Harrison laughed.

  “No. Really,” I insisted.

  The dummy stared up at me from the couch. Close up, I could see small cracks in his forehead. His painted hair was chipped. Pieces of the red-brown paint had flaked off.

  He had a small chunk of wood missing from his bottom lip. His sports jacket was frayed. Two buttons were missing.

  “Yuck. He’s so ugly,” I declared.

  “You’re cute too!” Slappy shot back.

  No. Harrison pretended to be Slappy.

  “Stop it,” I snapped. “You’re not funny. Now answer my question. How did this dummy get here?”