by R. L. Stine
“Ohhh,” I moaned as I started to sink into the chocolate again. Panic gripped me, and I froze for a few seconds. Then I started to thrash my arms again, pulling myself up over the hot surface.
I spewed a spray of chocolate up into the air. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe.
Then I saw arms reaching for me. White-uniformed workers had climbed to the top of the vat. They stretched their hands toward me.
Slapping the thick surface, I pulled myself to the side and grabbed a pair of hands. I felt as if I weighed two hundred pounds. The worker pulled me closer to the side of the vat. Then more hands dragged me up and out.
The sirens kept wailing. Workers were running around frantically. My whole body shuddered and shook. I was covered from head to foot in a thick layer of chocolate.
I was still trying to wipe the goo away from my eyes when Dad came rushing up. “Are you okay? Can you breathe? What happened? How did you fall?” he demanded.
“I … I …”
I couldn’t speak.
Dad shook his head. “We have to throw out the entire batch,” he said. “It’s ruined. It’s a total loss.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. What else could I say?
I raised my eyes and saw that the class was back down on the factory floor. They were all staring at me. Mr. Plame stood off to the side with Travis and Kelly. The teacher had a stern look on his face.
Both boys were gesturing with their hands and talking at once.
“We didn’t touch him. I swear,” I heard Travis say.
“We didn’t bump him,” Kelly said. “He fell on his own. Honest.”
“Seriously. I saw him start to fall,” Travis told the teacher. “I tried to catch him but I was too late.”
“We didn’t bump him!”
I turned away and saw Dad pull two workers over. “Get Barton to the showers,” Dad ordered. “Hurry. The chocolate is starting to harden. It’ll never come off!”
The next day was Saturday. I was so happy I didn’t have to go to school and face everyone in my class. I’m sure they’d all have a lot of chocolate jokes for me.
I kept thinking about Travis and Kelly. Did one of them deliberately shove me over the side of the railing? The thought was totally scary.
They were mean kids. But they weren’t that mean—were they?
Dad went out in the morning. When he came back, he was carrying a large case. It looked like a guitar case.
“Barton, I brought you a present,” he said. “I thought it might cheer you up.”
He set the case down on the dining room table. “Go ahead. Open it.”
I clicked the two clasps on the side of the case and lifted the lid. “Oh, wow,” I murmured. I stared down at an old ventriloquist dummy and smiled.
The dummy lay on its back, its arms crossed over its chest. It wore a stained gray suit and a tilted red bow tie over a white shirt. Its lips were painted red, and it grinned right back at me.
“A new puppet for your collection. I thought it might help cheer you up,” Dad said. We both leaned over the case, studying the dummy.
“He’s weird looking,” I said. “See his grin. It’s not really a smile. It looks kind of evil.”
Dad chuckled. “Barton, with your wild imagination, I’m sure you’ll give him a good personality.”
I reached into the case and carefully picked up the dummy. His shoes and hands were carved of wood. “He’s heavy,” I said.
“I think the dummy is pretty old,” Dad said. “His name is Slappy.”
“Slappy?” I said. “What a lame name.”
Dad shrugged. “That’s what I was told. He comes with a couple of sheets of instructions. They’re tucked into his jacket pocket.”
I balanced Slappy on one arm and reached inside his back with my other hand. I found the controls and made his mouth move up and down. “Hiya, Dad. I’m Slappy. I’m kinda ugly!” I made the dummy say in a high, squeaky voice.
Dad smiled. “I thought maybe you could work up some kind of act with Slappy,” he said. “You know. Like a comedy act you could perform at school or birthday parties or something.”
His smile faded. “It could help you be less shy.”
There Dad goes again. He never can drop the subject of how shy I am. He has to keep pushing me … pushing me to be more like him. Loud and bold. Not afraid of anything.
He didn’t buy this dummy to cheer me up. He gave it to me because he thought it might help make me better.
I felt a flash of anger, but I fought it down. “Hey, thanks, Dad,” I said. “I’m sure I can do something with him.”
I tossed the dummy over my shoulder and carried him up to my room. I sat him on the windowsill and propped him up against the glass.
I didn’t feel like playing with him. I was too depressed. And I still felt achy and weird from my fall into the chocolate vat.
I stepped back and took one last look at the dummy. “Hey, dummy, why did someone decide to make you so ugly?” I said.
Then I gasped.
Did its eyes blink up and down?
No. That didn’t happen.
That had to be my crazy imagination again, right?
Well … finally! An interesting character appears in this story. ME! Hahaha.
Don’t call me Slappy. You can just call me Schoolteacher. Because I’m about to teach Barton a few lessons! Haha.
If he thinks I’m ugly, wait till he sees what he looks like when I get through with him!
Oooh! It gives me happy shudders just thinking about it!
That afternoon, I was gazing out the front window, watching dark storm clouds move across the sky. Lizzie came into view, walking at the end of the block. She wore a long black rain poncho. The black coat against the gray trees and houses made her look like she was in an old black-and-white movie.
She was halfway along the block when she stopped. Even from this far away, I could see the terrified look on her face. I knew why she was afraid.
Kraken, the Grimm family’s huge dog, was charging toward her, barking like a monster. Luckily, Kraken was chained up on a short leash.
Kraken really is like a monster. He snarls and growls and dives at everyone who passes by, snapping huge teeth. People in the neighborhood have all complained about how dangerous Kraken is. But the Grimms say they need a good watchdog. And Kraken could never get off his chain.
Ha.
I’m scared every time I walk by him. Lizzie and I almost always cross the street so we can pass the big beast on the other side.
Lizzie is so kind. Once she said she thought Kraken was just lonely. “He’s always alone, chained up in the front yard, without anyone to show him any attention,” she said.
Maybe she’s right. But there’s no way she and I were brave enough to get close and make friends with him!
Lizzie loves dogs. But her parents won’t let her have one because she’s allergic. Instead, she has a huge collection of stuffed dogs in her room. There are at least a hundred of them, and every one of them has a name.
Some of her friends think a stuffed dog collection is babyish. But Lizzie doesn’t care. She likes her stuffed dogs!
Peering out the window, I saw Kraken charge at Lizzie, snapping his jaws. He’s so huge, his paws thunder against the ground when he runs. I could hear the thud of his footsteps through the closed window.
Kraken ran to the end of his chain and nearly choked himself straining against it, howling and growling at Lizzie. When she saw that he couldn’t reach her, she took off running.
I watched her race up my driveway, and I pulled the front door open before she had a chance to ring the bell.
She was breathing hard. She blinked as she stared at me, catching her breath.
And then she let out a loud, shrill scream.
“Lizzie—what is it?” I cried.
She took a deep breath and held it. “Oh. Sorry, Barton. Your face—it’s so weird. I didn’t realize you were burned so badly in the vat of hot choco
late.”
I shook my head. “I’m not burned,” I said. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
“Oh, wow. Too bad, Barton.” She pushed past me into the house. “You really look like a hideous monster.”
“Thanks. You’re cute, too,” I muttered. “Did you come over to cheer me up or what?”
She tossed her rain parka onto the back of a living room chair. “Sorry. Does it hurt? Do you feel bad?”
“Well … this red rash broke out all over my body,” I said. “And my skin itches and burns everywhere.”
Lizzie took a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the coffee table. “Sad,” she murmured.
I sighed. “I’ll bet the whole class is laughing at me.”
She swallowed some pretzels. “Well … some kids are calling you Daffy Taffy.”
“Yaaaaiiii.” I wanted to scream. “That’s worse than Sluggs,” I moaned.
Lizzie shrugged. “They’ll forget about it … someday.”
“This is terrible,” I said, dropping onto the edge of the couch. “My skin is red and blotchy. The kids are all laughing at me. And my dad is furious because I ruined thousands of dollars’ worth of chocolate.”
Lizzie took another handful of pretzels. “Barton, let me tell you a story that will cheer you up,” she said. “It’s about a time when I fell, too.”
“You had a bad fall like me?” I said.
She nodded. “I was at a birthday party. In fourth grade. At my old school. And it was at this girl’s house. I really wanted to impress her.”
“And what happened?” I asked.
“I was walking by the table with her birthday cake on it,” Lizzie continued. “And I wasn’t watching where I was going because I was staring at a boy I liked across the room. And I tripped and fell over my own shoes.”
“Headfirst into the birthday cake?” I said. “You destroyed the birthday cake?”
“Almost,” Lizzie said. “I almost fell into the cake, but I just missed it.”
My mouth dropped open. “Is that the story? Is that the story that’s supposed to cheer me up?”
She nodded.
“Lame!” I cried. “It’s totally lame!”
Lizzie lowered her head. “Sorry. I was just trying to help.”
I sighed. “You can’t help me with a lame story like that. This is serious.”
She reached for the pretzel bowl. Changed her mind. Clasped her hands in her lap. “Yes, I know. Barton, do you think Travis and Kelly deliberately pushed you off the catwalk?”
The question made my breath catch in my throat. I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I really can’t be sure.”
Lizzie didn’t say anything. She shut her eyes behind her glasses.
“Is it possible they really wanted to hurt me?” I said. “Is it possible they hate me so much … that I’m not safe?”
“I … I don’t know,” Lizzie stammered.
“I could have drowned in that chocolate, Lizzie,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I know someone pushed me. I’m scared. I really am.”
Lizzie went home. From the front window, I watched her walking back to her house. As usual, Kraken went nuts as she came near. The big monster dog pulled so hard on his chain, he nearly strangled himself again.
Lizzie took off and ran across the street just to be safe.
I felt bad. I wasn’t very nice to her. She had come over to help cheer me up. And I yelled at her and told her that her falling-down story was lame.
I tried to stop thinking about the class trip. But I couldn’t get my mind back to normal. I kept seeing myself flying off the factory catwalk again and again. I felt dizzy just from the memory of that headfirst tumble into the vat. I mean, how could anyone stop thinking about that?
I went upstairs to my room to do my homework. Maybe that would take my mind off things. But I finished all my assignments in just ten minutes.
What can I say? I’m a brainiac!
A lot of good it does me.
I’m a brainiac, and I’m the class joke.
I paced back and forth for a few minutes. My room is long and narrow, so it’s good for tromping back and forth. But there’s only so long you can do that without getting bored.
I lifted the big case that held the dummy Dad bought me and set it on my bed. I opened the lid and stared down at the grinning dummy. Its glassy green eyes were wide open and seemed to stare back up at me.
I saw a small chip in the paint on its nose. The grinning lips were rose red.
I reached into the pocket of the suit jacket and pulled out two folded-up sheets of paper. Dad said the dummy came with some kind of instructions.
I glanced at the first page. All it said was Hi. My name is Slappy. Do you want to be my friend?
I unfolded the other sheet of paper. It had a bunch of words on it in a strange foreign language. I started to read the words out loud: “Karru Marri Odonna …”
But then I stopped.
I wasn’t in the mood to think up a ventriloquist act. I had to wait till I felt in a funnier mood.
I tucked both papers into the dummy’s pocket. Then I dropped him onto the bed. I walked to the closet and pulled out my two favorite marionettes.
One of them is a tall, awesome-looking dude in a khaki soldier’s uniform. I call him Bart, after me. I know it’s weird, but sometimes I pretend I’m a tough guy like him.
The other puppet is a clown with a round red nose and wild red hair that stands straight up. He wears a baggy blue-and-white-striped costume with a big ruffle around the neck, and he has a dopey grin painted across his face.
I call him Travis.
“Get him, Bart!” I shouted. And I made the soldier puppet attack the clown.
Pound. Pound. Pound. Bart slapped Travis with his wooden fist. I made Travis fall to his knees.
Pound pound pound. “No mercy!” I shouted. “No mercy for a clown like you!”
Maybe you think it’s babyish. But a good puppet fight always makes me feel better.
“Please don’t hit me! Please!” I made the clown whine. Pound pound pound. Sure, it wasn’t real revenge. But it was the best I could do.
I stood the puppets up and was about to start the fight again—when I heard the front doorbell ring.
Is it Lizzie? I wondered. Did she come back to try to cheer me up again? I draped the marionettes over my bed and ran downstairs to open the front door.
“Oh.” I uttered a startled cry when I saw who was standing there.
Travis and Kelly.
“Wh-wh-wh—” I tried to speak, but I was too shocked.
Travis shoved a big chocolate bar into my hands. He grinned. “We thought you might like this.”
Ha ha. Very funny. What do they want? What are they going to do to me now? Kelly squinted at me. “What are those sores on your face?” he demanded.
“It’s a rash. From the fall,” I said.
“Looks good on you!” Kelly said. Laughing, they slapped knuckles.
“Good-bye,” I said. I started to slam the door shut. But Travis blocked it with his wide body.
“We want to talk to you,” he said.
“We have a deal for you, Barton,” Kelly added.
Barton? He didn’t call me Sluggs? Travis tried to step into the house, but I blocked his way. “What kind of deal?”
“You’ll like it,” Travis said. “Come on. Let us in. We’re not going to hurt you.”
I didn’t move. “Hurt me? You tried to kill me! You pushed me—”
“No way!” they both cried at once.
“I didn’t push you. I swear!” Travis said, raising his right hand.
“I didn’t do it, either,” Kelly said.
I stared at them. Were they telling the truth? I didn’t believe them. Somebody bumped me. I didn’t just fall.
“Can we come in? We just want to talk,” Travis said.
I thought about it for a few seconds. Then I stepped back and let them into the house.
; No one was home but me. Was I making a big mistake?
They followed me up to my room.
“Are those puppets?” Kelly asked, pointing to the two I had draped over the bed.
“They’re marionettes,” I said. “I’ve been collecting them since I was five. Some of them are valuable.”
Kelly picked up the controller for the soldier. He lowered the puppet to the floor and tried to figure out how to make him walk.
Travis snickered. “Hey, are these your friends?”
I could feel myself blushing. “It … it’s just a hobby,” I said.
Before I could stop him, Travis picked up the controller for the clown and lowered the puppet to the floor. “The clown ATTACKS!” he cried. He swung the puppet into the soldier.
“Hey, stop—!” I shouted.
Too late. The strings were all tangled.
I grabbed the controllers from them and carried the tangled marionettes to my closet. When I turned around, Travis had picked up Slappy.
“Barton, is this another buddy of yours?”
“Do you talk to him?” Kelly asked, grinning. “Do you tell him all your secrets?”
Travis grabbed the dummy’s head and spun it around so it was facing backward. “Haha. Look! He looks better this way!”
“Put it down. Please,” I said. “He’s very old.”
Travis twisted the head around some more.
“I thought you wanted to talk to me,” I said, grabbing Slappy away from him. I walked to the window and set him down on the windowsill. “You said you had a deal for me?”
Kelly dropped down onto the edge of my bed. He picked his nose and wiped his finger on my bedspread.
Travis laughed. “That’s gross.”
I pointed to the door. “You have to go,” I said. “I’m serious.”
“No. Wait,” Travis said. “We have a deal. You’ll like it.” He spun my desk chair around and sat down on it.
I stood watching them both, my arms crossed tightly in front of my chest. “What’s the deal?”
They exchanged glances. “We’ll stop picking on you,” Travis said. “We’ll stop giving you a hard time.”