Slappy Birthday to You

by R. L. Stine

  The dummy wore a red-and-black flannel shirt under blue denim bib overalls.

  “This is Farmer Joe,” Dr. Klausmann announced. He motioned for Ian to sit down. Then he set the dummy down on Ian’s lap. “Do you know how to control him?”

  He didn’t wait for Ian’s answer. He pushed Ian’s hands into the opening in the dummy’s back. Ian fumbled till he found the controls.

  “Go ahead. Try him out,” Dr. Klausmann said. “Try to make him talk without moving your lips.”

  Ian made the dummy’s mouth move up and down. “This is way cool,” he said.

  “Ian has always liked puppets,” Mr. Barker said. “Remember those clown marionettes you had when you were younger?”

  Ian nodded. He’d spent hours putting on puppet shows with those marionettes. He tilted the dummy on his lap and put on a funny voice: “I’m Farmer Joe. I have to go milk the pigs now!”

  His dad and Dr. Klausmann laughed. “Very good, Ian,” Dr. Klausmann said. “Feel free to explore the room. Try any dummy you’d like.” He turned back to Mr. Barker. “Let me show you a few interesting things …”

  Ian practiced moving Farmer Joe’s mouth up and down. He moved his fingers until he found the control for the dummy’s eyes. After a few tries, he could get the eyes to blink.

  “I’m Farmer Joe,” he said, keeping his teeth together, trying not to move his lips. “Who are you staring at? Are you staring at me just because I need dental work?”

  He practiced working with the dummy for a few minutes. Then he placed it back on its chair and tried another one. This dummy was very dressed up in a tuxedo, white shirt, and bow tie. It had a black top hat on its head. Its shoes were shiny black leather.

  “I’m Mr. Fancypants.” Ian gave him a deep, throaty voice. “I like to smoke cigars. But lighting a cigar is very dangerous since I have a wooden head!”

  Ian laughed, cracking himself up. “These dummies are more fun than marionettes,” he told himself. “You can really make them come to life.”

  Next he tried a dummy with blond braids and big blue eyes. He named her Molly, after his sister, and he gave her a shrill, whiny voice. Ian gazed around the room. The dummies—dozens of them, all different—stared straight ahead. “Totally cool,” he murmured.

  He turned back to the front of the room. “Hey, Dad—look at this one.” He bounced Molly the Dummy on his lap.

  Silence. No reply.

  “Hey—Dad?” Ian stood up and looked around the big room. “Dad? Where are you?”

  He set the dummy down and took a few steps toward the door. He suddenly felt tense. His throat tightened. His hands were cold.

  “Dad? Did you leave? You didn’t say you were leaving. Dad?”

  He knew he shouldn’t be afraid. But he couldn’t help it. The dummies had been fun to try. But he didn’t really want to be left alone in this room with so many of them.

  “Dad? Hey—Dad?” he called, his voice trembling.

  He took a few more steps toward the door. Then he sensed something moving.

  He turned back in time to see the dummies move their heads. All of them, all around the room. The dummies all tilted back their heads, opened their mouths, and began to laugh.

  Ian gasped, staring in disbelief at the dozens of cackling dummies. Their mouths clicked and their cold, ugly laughter rang in his ears. He forced himself to spin away from them. He lowered his head and ran.

  He shoved the door with both hands. It didn’t budge.

  Frantically, he pulled and pulled, and it finally creaked open.

  Ian ducked into the dimly lit hall. He was standing at the very end. Squinting into the gray light, he called for his dad. “Where are you? Can you hear me?” His voice echoed off the stone walls.

  Silence. No reply.

  “Dad? Where are you?”

  The only sounds were his ringing voice and the thuds of his pounding heartbeats.

  He forced his legs to move and began to trot down the middle of the hall. This long corridor had no doors or windows, no brightly lit displays. He ran past solid gray walls. He felt as if he were running through an endless tunnel.

  Ian stopped when the hallway turned. He found himself in another long corridor, this one lined with doll displays. “Dad? Are you down here?”

  The dolls stared out at him from their glass cases. A weird forest scene was jammed with dolls with bear faces. They wore suits and dresses and stood on two feet, but their faces were furry, with long bear snouts. The next case showed angels with filmy wings and halos over their heads, flying in a cloudless sky.

  “Dad? Hey—can you hear me?”

  Ian’s side hurt from running. He slowed to a walk as he made his way down this hall. It turned into another. He stopped.

  Maybe I should go back. Maybe I should wait for Dad in the room with the ventriloquist dummies. He might be back there now, expecting to find me there.

  But Ian realized he was completely turned around. He stood in the middle of this new hall, gazing one way, then the other. Which way? Which way?

  He started walking again—and stopped at the end of the hall. Ian peered into a brightly lit glass office. A young woman sat at a desk, typing on a laptop. Ian saw posters of antique dolls on the wall behind her. A large brown teddy bear was propped up in a folding chair beside her desk.

  She had short brown hair and was dressed in a dark blouse and jeans. She looked up and saw Ian staring in at her, and her mouth opened in surprise.

  He stepped into her doorway.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, her face still tight with alarm. “We are closed today.”

  “I know,” Ian said. “I … I’m looking for my dad.”

  The young woman squinted at him. “Your dad?”

  “Dr. Klausmann was showing us around,” Ian explained. “And we got separated.”

  She studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry. Please repeat. Who was showing you around?”

  “Dr. Klausmann,” Ian said.

  The woman frowned at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s no one named Dr. Klausmann who works here.”

  “Why don’t you wait right here?” the woman said, standing up. “I’ll have the security guard show you the exit.”

  I have to find Dad first, Ian thought. There’s something very strange going on in this museum.

  He spun around and ran back into the hall. He heard the woman shouting for him to stop. But he took off, running down the long corridor, dolls staring at him all the way.

  Breathing hard, he turned a corner. And that’s when he saw the figure in the far distance. So far down the hall, Ian could barely see him. “Dad?” Ian squinted hard, struggling to see.

  The man was walking slowly, half hidden behind the haze of white ceiling lights. He walked steadily, arms down at his side.

  Ian waited for him to come into focus. It had to be his dad. Had to.

  But why was he walking so slowly?

  “Dad? Here I am. Dad?” Ian’s voice rang off the walls, echoed down the hall.

  He started to trot toward the approaching figure. But after a few steps, he stopped with a gasp. The man was wearing the baby-doll mask.

  “Dr. Klausmann?” Ian called, his voice high and shrill.

  The masked man didn’t answer. Just kept walking. Slowly and steadily. Moving toward Ian like some kind of machine. Or like a puppet, Ian thought.

  “Dr. Klausmann? Have you seen my dad?” Ian cried.

  No answer. The man came slowly walking closer. The baby-doll mask glowed pink under the ceiling lights.

  Why isn’t he answering me? Ian wondered. Fear suddenly tightened his throat and froze him in place.

  The man came toward him, hands at his sides. Slow, steady steps, his shoes scraping the marble floor.

  Panic kept Ian from turning and running. The grinning baby doll with its red lips was only a few yards away. And then the man stopped inches in front of Ian.

  “Dr. Klausmann? Where is my dad? Can you tell me—?”<
br />
  Silence.

  “Please,” Ian cried. “Answer me. ANSWER me!”

  With a desperate cry, Ian raised both hands. He raised both hands—and ripped the mask away.

  He tore the mask off and stared at the man’s face. And then Ian uttered a roaring scream that echoed down the endless hall.

  “Dad!” Ian cried. “Dad—why didn’t you answer me? Why are you wearing the mask?”

  His dad’s face was red and dripping with sweat from being under the rubber mask. He gazed at Ian a long time. And then his eyes flashed and a grin slowly spread across his face.

  “Happy birthday, Ian!” he cried.

  The young woman from the office appeared behind them. “Happy birthday, Ian!” she called. She waved to an older man in a black suit. “I’m Linda. And this is Barney. He played the part of Dr. Klausmann.”

  “Happy birthday,” Barney said in his whispery voice.

  Mr. Barker slapped Ian on the back. “Gotcha,” he said. “That was your birthday adventure, Ian. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Enjoy it?” Ian cried. “I—I was terrified!”

  “Success!” his dad said. He gave Barney and Linda a big thumbs-up. “It took a long time to plan this for you.”

  Ian shook his head. “Wow. I mean, wow. When those dummies all came to life and started to laugh, I totally freaked.”

  Mr. Barker turned to the two museum workers. “I want to thank you for your time.”

  “Do I get one of those awesome dummies as a birthday present?” Ian asked.

  “No way,” his dad answered. “Those dummies are museum pieces, Ian. Maybe someday you can have a dummy of your own. Maybe someday …”

  As they turned to leave, Ian saw Barney’s silvery eyes flash. And in his whispery Dr. Klausmann voice, Barney murmured, “Be careful what you wish for, Ian. Be very careful.”

  Some people may think Mr. Barker’s birthday surprise for Ian was mean. He scared the poor kid half to death.

  I thought it was a scream. Hahaha!

  Did Ian honestly think all those dummies in that museum could come alive?

  Whoever heard of such a crazy idea! Hahaha.

  Well, it was a birthday Ian never forgot. And he never forgot how much he liked working a ventriloquist dummy and making up jokes with it.

  When he got home, he made his own little dummy in art class, with a papier-mâché head and white gloves for hands. He named him Corky and made up a lot of jokes to perform with him.

  But the mouth didn’t move and neither did the eyes. And the head kept falling off the body. It wasn’t the same as a real dummy. And hand puppets just weren’t as much fun.

  Ian asked his dad to buy him one. Mr. Barker said they were expensive and hard to find. But now, three years later, here we are at Ian’s twelfth birthday party. And he’s got the real deal—ME! Hahaha.

  Ian couldn’t wait to practice with Slappy. His birthday wish was to become a great ventriloquist. (His other birthday wish was for Jonny and Vinny to go home.)

  Now there was the dummy’s torn-off hand to deal with.

  Mrs. Barker made her way to the kitchen to get lunch ready. Molly disappeared with her doll. The three boys followed Mr. Barker downstairs to his doll hospital to watch him attach Slappy’s hand.

  Slappy’s head thumped hard as Mr. Barker stretched him out on the worktable. “His head weighs a ton,” he said. “The puppet maker used very hard wood.”

  The dolls on the shelves all appeared to stare at them. Their tiny eyes glowed in the bright light from the ceiling.

  Vinny picked up two doll legs and made them walk across the table. Jonny found a tall action figure, a doll with a red mask and blue cape. He grabbed it and stabbed his brother in the stomach with it.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Vinny grabbed another doll. The two brothers used them as swords, slapping each other in a fast swordfight.

  “Hey, guys, that’s my work,” Mr. Barker said, sighing. “Put them down. Please.” He didn’t get angry easily. But Ian could see that he was starting to get really annoyed with the two cousins.

  Jonny gave his brother one last hard poke in the ribs with the action figure. Then he set it down. Ian watched as his father slid the dummy hand into the jacket sleeve.

  “Hey, check this out!” a voice called from the stairs.

  Ian turned to see Molly burst into the basement, holding her iPad in front of her. “I looked it up,” she said breathlessly. “Do you believe it? Slappy has his own Wikipedia page.”

  “You’re joking,” Mr. Barker said. “What does it say?”

  Ian stared at his sister. She loved looking things up. She carried her iPad everywhere so she could share information with everyone. She took notes about every doll in her collection. She liked to know all kinds of facts.

  “This is so weird,” she said. She lowered her eyes to the screen. “It says that Slappy wasn’t made by a doll maker or a puppet maker. It says he was built by a sorcerer.”

  “Huh?” Jonny murmured. “You mean like in Harry Potter?”

  “Wikipedia says a sorcerer made him a hundred years ago. And his head was carved out of wood from a coffin. And get this.” Molly tapped the screen with her finger. “The coffin was stolen, and it had a curse on it. And so the dummy carries a curse.”

  Ian squinted at her. “I don’t get it. What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re doomed,” Vinny answered. “You’re cursed. You’re dead meat.”

  The two brothers giggled and bumped knuckles again.

  Ian kept his eyes on Molly. Was she making this up? He didn’t think it was funny.

  “There’s more,” Molly said, returning to the screen. “Wikipedia says if you read six magical words out loud, Slappy will come to life.”

  Ian’s mouth dropped open. He suddenly remembered the laughing dummies in the Castle of the Little People. Of course, those dummies hadn’t come to life. It was all a trick. But thinking about them gave Ian a chill.

  “Magic words! Awesome!” Vinny cried. “What are the words? Let’s try it. Read us the words.”

  Molly bit her bottom lip as she scanned the page. “The words aren’t here,” she said, shaking her head. “No. No words. They don’t have them here.”

  “Good,” Ian said. He felt another chill at the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s too dangerous. Maybe they didn’t put the words in because the dummy is too dangerous to bring to life.”

  “You’re crazy,” Molly told him. “You don’t really believe a dummy can come to life—do you?”

  Mr. Barker twisted the wooden hand. He pushed it, then pulled it. “It’s attached. All fixed,” he said. “The hand is on to stay. Just don’t have a tug-of-war with it.”

  He started to sit the dummy up, then stopped as something fell out of the jacket sleeve. “Hey, what’s this?” A folded-up slip of paper fell onto the worktable. Mr. Barker reached for it—but Jonny got there first.

  Jonny unfolded the paper and squinted at it. “Hey, this has to be it. Six weirdo words. These are the magic words to bring him to life.”

  “Jonny, don’t!” Ian cried. “Don’t read them. I’m kind of scared. Please—don’t read them! Please!”

  Jonny chuckled. Then he raised the paper close to his face. And shouted the words one by one:

  “Karru Marri Odonna Loma Molonu Karrano!”

  Ian gasped. A hush fell over the basement. Jonny’s words seemed to linger in the air.

  All eyes were on the dummy. It lay on its back on the worktable. Its glassy black eyes gazed blankly up at the low ceiling. Its arms hung limply at its sides.

  Ian realized he was holding his breath. Was the dummy about to raise his head and speak to them?

  Vinny broke the silence. “Maybe you didn’t read the words right,” he told his brother. “Let me try.” He grabbed the paper from Jonny’s hand.

  But before Vinny could read the first word, Ian took it from him. “I’d better put this in a safe place,” he said.

  “But it di
dn’t work,” Vinny protested. “The dummy didn’t move at all.”

  Mr. Barker smiled. “Not everything on Wikipedia is true,” he said.

  Ian tucked the paper away in a corner of the worktable. He breathed a sigh of relief. He and some of his friends had watched a horror movie on Netflix about a ventriloquist dummy that came to life and started killing people with an ax. He knew it was just a movie, but he couldn’t shake that creepy feeling.

  Ian scooped up the dummy and tossed him over his shoulder. “Thanks for fixing him, Dad,” he said. He started up the basement stairs to the living room.

  The others followed. Molly picked up Abigail and began fiddling with her dress. Jonny and Vinny swiped cupcakes off the tray. They didn’t bother to chew, just gulped them down.

  Then Vinny made a grab for Slappy. “My turn,” he told Ian.

  “Not happening,” Ian said. “You already broke him once.”

  They started to argue, but the front door opened and Vinny and Jonny’s dad appeared. “Hey, happy birthday, Ian,” he called.

  “Thanks, Uncle Donny.”

  Mr. Harding looked a lot like his sons. He was a big, red-faced man, with straight blond hair brushed away from his forehead and striking blue eyes. His face was lined and his expression always reminded Ian of a sad clown he had seen at the circus.

  Mr. Harding’s stomach bulged under his gray sweatshirt. His matching gray sweatpants were ripped at one knee.

  “Time to go, boys,” he told them. “Did you have jackets or anything?”

  “No. It’s too hot,” Vinny answered.

  “We don’t want to go,” Jonny whined. “We didn’t get a turn with Slappy. And I’m still hungry.”

  Mrs. Barker laughed. “Donny, don’t you feed these boys? They ate everything but the wallpaper!”

  Mr. Harding shook his head. “I’m raising monsters. Seriously.”

  “You know, next week is the family talent show,” Mrs. Barker told Vinny and Jonny. “Maybe you can play with the dummy then.”