by R. L. Stine
As she leaned over the chair to grab the window frame, Slappy reached up and grabbed her arm.
“Hey, slave — is that other guy gone?” the dummy asked in a throaty growl. “I thought he’d never leave!”
BEHIND THE SCREAMS
NIGHT of the
LIVING DUMMY
CONTENTS
About the Author
Q & A with R.L. Stine
Fright Gallery: Slappy the Dummy
A Dummy’s Guide to Ventriloquism
Slappy’s Greatest Wisecracks
Treasers
Bonus material written and compiled by Joshua Gee
About the Author
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street, the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Q & A with R.L. Stine
What inspired you to write Night of the Living Dummy?
R.L. Stine (RLS): I’ve always thought dummies are scary. There’s something about those dead wooden eyes staring at you and then suddenly coming to life. Creepy!
Do you own a ventriloquist’s dummy? If so, has it ever insulted, chased, or attacked you?
RLS: I do own a ventriloquist’s dummy. It looks just like me! So far, it hasn’t ever chased me or attacked me. But you know, people have told me that dogs always sense ghosts and evil things before humans do. Well, my dog, Minnie, who is normally a very quiet, calm dog, is absolutely terrified of the dummy. She barks at it and shivers with fear whenever she sees him! So now I can’t help wondering if she knows something about the dummy that I don’t know… .
Slappy is a villain that the fans love to fear. What makes him so popular?
RLS: Face it — all of us would like to be a little mean and a little rude sometimes. Slappy is mean and rude ALL the time. I think that’s why the fans love him.
You’re presently writing the first all-new Goosebumps books in a very long time. Will new villains appear in Goosebumps HorrorLand?
RLS: You bet there will be new villains and some old favorites in HorrorLand. Some are so scary I don’t even want to THINK about them! (Watch out for Dr. Maniac and Mister Slither!)
How many Goosebumps HorrorLand books will there be? Can you reveal one secret about future books in the series?
RLS: There will be twelve new books in the Goosebumps HorrorLand series. Here’s a secret that you’ll be the first to hear: Don’t let anyone tell you there’s no such thing as quicksand. In HorrorLand, Quicksand Beach is a popular attraction at the Black Lagoon Water Park. But kids who innocently step out onto the sand quickly learn there IS such a thing as quicksand! In Book One, the sinking kids are given good advice: When you start to drop underground, the best way to survive is to HOLD YOUR BREATH for as long as you can!
To find out why R.L. Stine is afraid of the ocean, pick up the new collector’s edition of DEEP TROUBLE and look in the back of the book.
Fright Gallery: Slappy the Dummy
FIRST APPEARANCE Night of the Living Dummy
OTHER APPEARANCES Night of the Living Dummy II and III; Goosebumps 2000: Bride of the Living Dummy; Goosebumps 2000: Slappy’s Nightmare
ORIGINS In the late 1800s, an ancient sorcerer built two dummies from the wood of a stolen coffin. The wood was cursed. Very cursed! Many years later, one of the wicked dummies, Mr. Wood, was finally defeated. But it only made the other dummy twice as wicked … and a thousand times ruder! That other dummy was Slappy.
SPECIAL POWERS Some people believe that Slappy has the power to control people’s minds and turn people into puppets.
WEAKNESSES “Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.” Those six words have an eerie and often surprising effect on dummies.
LIVING OR DEAD? Both!
FAVORITE PHRASE “Thanks for waking me up, SLAVE!”
HOBBIES & INTERESTS Daydreaming about what he’ll do when he becomes Supreme Ruler of the Human Race
LAST SEEN Goosebumps HorrorLand #1: Revenge of the Living Dummy
* * *
A Dummy’s Guide to Ventriloquism
Ventriloquism is the art of “throwing” your voice so that it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. You don’t need to be a smarty-pants to learn how. Dummies do it all the time.
1. ) Shut your mouth.
Look in a mirror and part your lips slightly. Relax your jaw so that your top teeth just barely touch your bottom teeth.
2. ) Know your A-B-Cs!
Here comes the hard part: speaking without moving your lips. That might sound impossible, but some ventriloquists can actually make it look like they’re drinking a glass of water while their dummies talk at the same time. Beginners usually start by pronouncing 19 letters over and over again:
A, C, D, E, G, H, I, J, K, L, N, O, Q, R, S, T, U, X, Z
Keep looking in the mirror. Can you see your lips move?
3. ) Practice makes perfect.
Most full sentences are extremely tough to say at first. (In fact, one good example is “Practice makes perfect.”) If you want to become a true Puppet Master, keep practicing individual letters. When you’re ready, try seven more letters… .
B, F, M, P, V, W, Y
They’re the toughest letters of all.
4.) Cheat!
Instead of saying the toughest letters like you normally would, try making sounds that are similar.
5.) Find a puppet … before it finds YOU!
Actually, old-fashioned ventriloquist’s dummies are pretty rare these days, and the nice ones cost as much as $1200.00. However, you can practice ventriloquism with almost any type of puppet. You can even draw some eyes on an old sock. Night of the Living … Sock Puppet? It won’t be as evil as Slappy, but it will be just as creepy!
Slappy’s Greatest Wisecracks
Sticks and stones will break your bones, but Slappy’s insults hurt even more. Don’t believe us? Keep reading! And just be glad that Slappy wasn’t talking to you. …
“Is that your head — or are you hatching
an ostrich egg on your neck?”
Slappy: “Knock knock.”
Human: “Who’s there?”
Slappy: “Jane.”
Human: “Jane who?”
Slappy: “Jane jer clothes. You stink!”
“Is your hair red? Or are you starting to rust?”
“Hey — you’re pretty. Pretty ugly!”
“I like your perfume. What is it —
flea and tick spray?”
“Pinch me. I’m having a nightmare.
Or is that really your face?”
“How about a game of Kick the Dummy Down
the Stairs? We’ll take turns being the dummy.
You can go first!”
“I’ve seen PIMPLES that were prettier than you!”
Don’t miss the return of
Slappy the Dummy in
#1 REVENGE OF THE LIVING DUMMY
Turn the page for a peek at the all-new,
all-terrifying thrill ride from R.L. Stine.
1
You may wonder why my best friend, Molly Molloy, and I were in the old graveyard late at night.
I shivered as I thought about what we were doing. Wind howled through the trees, and pale streaks of lightning cracked the sky.
“Hurry, Molly,” I whispered, hugging myself as the moon disappeared behind the clouds. “It’s going to storm.”
“I am hurrying, Britney,” Molly said. “But the ground … it’s really hard.”
We were digging a grave. We took turns. One of us shoveled while the other stood lookout.
I felt cold raindrops on my forehead. I kept my eyes on the low picket
fence near the street. Nothing moved. The only sounds were the scrape of the shovel in the dirt and a drumroll of thunder, deep but far away.
Across from me, an old gravestone made a creaking sound as it tilted in the wind.
I sucked in my breath. I suddenly pictured the old stone toppling over. And someone crawling out from the grave beneath it.
Okay, okay. I have a wild imagination. Everyone knows that about me.
My mom says I’ll either be a writer or a crazy person.
She thinks that’s really funny.
Sometimes having a strong imagination is a good thing. And sometimes it just makes things more scary.
Like tonight.
Molly stopped shoveling to push the hair out of her eyes. Raindrops pattered on the blanket of dead leaves on the ground. “Britney, does this look deep enough?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
I glanced at the glass coffin on the ground. “Keep digging. We have to totally cover it,” I said.
I turned back to the street. It was late, and the neighborhood stood dark and still. But what if someone drove by and saw us?
How could we ever explain the grave we were digging?
How could we explain why we were there?
Molly groaned and dug the shovel blade into the dirt.
The dead leaves crackled. I held my breath and listened. Footsteps. Someone creeping quickly through the leaves toward us.
“Molly —” I whispered.
Then I saw them, huddled low, moving in a line. Raccoons. A pack of them, little eyes glowing. The black fur on their faces made the little creatures look like they were wearing masks.
They froze when they saw us. And then stood up taller.
Do raccoons ever attack?
These raccoons looked really hungry. I imagined them stampeding Molly and me. Swarming over us, clawing and biting.
A bright flash of lightning brought them into clear focus. They were staring at the little glass coffin. Did they think there was food inside?
A clap of thunder — closer now — startled them. The leader turned and scuttled away over the leaves. The others followed.
I shivered and wiped rain off my forehead.
Molly handed me the shovel. “Your turn,” she said. “It’s almost finished.”
The wooden handle scratched my hand. I kicked dirt off the blade and stepped up to the shallow hole. “No one will ever find it here,” I said. “Once we bury the evil thing, we’ll be safe from it.”
Molly didn’t answer.
I had the sudden feeling something was wrong.
I turned and saw Molly staring with her mouth open. Staring at the tall gravestone next to us. She pointed. “Brit —”
And then I heard the old stone creak. And saw the pale hand slowly reach out from the grave. No time to move. No time to scream. I stood frozen — and watched the hand wrap its cold, bony fingers around my ankle. And then I started to scream.
2
Two weeks earlier, I had other things on my mind. I wasn’t thinking about the old graveyard down the street. I had other problems.
Well, one big problem. And his name was Ethan.
Ethan is my cousin, and it isn’t nice to hate your cousin. So let’s just say he isn’t one of my favorite people on this planet.
I like to make lists. And if I made a list of My Top 5,000 Favorite People in the World, my cousin Ethan wouldn’t be on it.
Get what I’m saying?
It was almost dinnertime on a Friday night. And I was perched on the edge of the bed in my new bedroom.
Why did I have a new bedroom?
Because Mom and Dad kicked me out of my awesome room in the attic to make room for guess who — Ethan. So now I had to sleep in Mom’s sewing room. And the sewing machine was still against the wall. So how much room did I have? Try not much.
I was talking on my cell to Molly. Molly is maybe the only person who understands what a pain Ethan is. Because she’s met him. And she had two bruised knees to prove it.
Whoever told Ethan that kicking people is funny?
Molly and I are like sisters. If you mention Molly Molloy, you have to mention me, Britney Crosby, too. We are both twelve, and we live on the same block, and we’ve always been in the same class since third grade.
We both like to draw and paint. We both like to make lists of everything. We are always finishing each other’s sentences — like we have one brain!
Molly is a little taller than me and more into sports. We both have coppery hair, although hers is lighter and curlier. And we both have brown eyes.
I’m the funny one. It’s hard to make Molly laugh.
I think she’s more serious than me because her parents split up, and she lives with her dad. He travels a lot, and he’s kind of a flake. So she feels like she has to be the grown-up in the house.
Obviously, I’ve thought about it a lot.
I once made a list of my good qualities and my bad qualities. And one of my good qualities is that I really try to understand my friends.
“I can’t come over now,” I told Molly. “That brat Ethan will be here any minute. Dad went to the bus station to pick him up.”
Molly groaned into the phone. “Maybe you’ll get lucky. Maybe he missed the bus. Why is he coming to stay with you anyway?”
“His parents had to go away or something,” I said. “He’s even coming to our school. I think he’s in third grade.”
“He’s such a sicko,” Molly said. “Maybe you should move over here till he leaves.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like my mom would go for that.”
“She knows you hate him,” Molly said.
“I’m supposed to feel sorry for Ethan because he’s had such a tough life,” I said. “You know. His parents were both sick for a long time and didn’t pay any attention to him.”
Molly shook her head. “Yeah. I remember.”
I groaned. “So Mom and Dad say I have to take good care of him. Every ten minutes, they remind me I have to be nice to him.”
“Hel-lo!” Molly said. “Do they know he kicks people when the grown-ups aren’t looking? Do they know how he kept trying to trip you and make you fall down the stairs? Did you tell them he tricked you into eating a sandwich that had dead bugs in it?”
“He’s totally bratty, but they don’t believe me,” I said. “Last time Ethan stayed here, he started messing with my computer — and he deleted my whole term paper. He said it was an accident. Then he burst out laughing.”
Molly groaned again. “What a creep.”
“Molly, what am I going to do?” I wailed. “He’s coming to live with us for weeks.”
Molly was silent for a moment. Then she said softly, “Face it, Britney. Your life is over.”
“OHHHH!” I let out a cry as I heard a deafening crash. From downstairs?
I nearly dropped the phone.
Was Ethan here already?
3
I hurried into the kitchen — and saw Mom bent over, picking pieces of china off the floor.
“I can’t believe I dropped that plate,” she said, shaking her head.
Mom has short dark brown hair with a streak of white in the front. She is small and skinny and totally high energy. And she’s kind of pretty, except her black-framed glasses make her look like a philosophy professor or something.
She’s always in a hurry, and she always drops things. And then she says, “I can’t believe I dropped that.”
“Maybe you’re nervous about Ethan,” I said, bending to pick up a jagged piece of china. “I know I am.”
“Hey.” She pinched my cheek. I don’t think she meant to hurt me, but she pinched too hard. I’m the only person in the world she pinches. I don’t really get it.
“Good attitude — remember?” she said. “Good attitude at all times. You promised.”
“I had my fingers crossed,” I said.
How could I have a good attitude?
The last time Ethan visited, we got into an actual f
istfight. Can you imagine? Quiet little Britney Crosby giving her cousin a bloody nose and making him cry in front of all her friends?
That’s not like me at all. But he just makes me crazy!
“Give Ethan a chance,” Mom said, brushing off the front of her jeans. She wears tight designer jeans, and she looks pretty good in them. She’s so small, we can almost share clothes. Weird.
“He’s had a lot of problems,” Mom said. “And now his parents have left him for who knows how long. He’s not bad. He just acts out because he’s lonely.”
Yeah. Right.
I heard a car door slam. Then Dad’s voice in the garage.
“They’re here,” Mom said. “Remember, Britney, you’ve got to be the grown-up in this situation. Get off to a good start with Ethan, and everything will be fine.”
“I’m going to try. Really,” I said, and I meant it.
The door from the garage swung open. Dad stepped into the kitchen, carrying Ethan’s two suitcases. “Our new family member has arrived,” he said.
Ethan came bouncing in behind him, a big grin on his face. Ethan looks like a sweet little boy. He is short and pale and very blond. He has bright blue eyes and a cute, pointed little chin. He wore a gray hoodie over baggy jeans.
And what was that thing slumped over his shoulder?
I squinted at it. A grinning ventriloquist’s dummy.
“Hi, Aunt Roz,” Ethan said.
Mom shook a finger at the dummy. “Ethan — what is that?”
He pulled the dummy off his shoulder and held it up. It had an ugly face with painted blue eyes, a chipped lower lip, and an awful grin.
“This is Mr. Badboy,” Ethan said. “Mr. Badboy is my best friend.”
Totally pitiful, I thought.
But I put a smile on my face and said, “Hey, Ethan.”
