Slappy Birthday to You

by R. L. Stine

  Mr. Barker pushed the front door closed and turned the lock. “The dummy isn’t in your closet?”

  Ian shook his head. “No. He’s gone.”

  Ian’s dad scratched his head. “There’s got to be an explanation.”

  “Yes, there is, Dad,” Ian said. “Slappy is alive. He’s alive and he’s dangerous. And he’s out prowling the neighborhood on his own.”

  Smart kid, that Ian. He spoke the truth.

  Slappy is alive and he’s dangerous.

  I couldn’t describe myself any better if I tried. Hahaha.

  It’s about time Mr. Barker caught on, don’t you agree? He’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box. I don’t want to say he is dumb—but tell me why his IQ is the same number as his belt size? Hahahaha.

  Of course, what do you expect? The man spends all his time playing with dolls!

  He didn’t pay much attention to me when I was in his doll hospital. I don’t think he appreciated how cute I am. I’m better than cute. You might even say I’m a living doll! Hahahaha.

  Well, I hope you’re enjoying this story as much as I am. I like a story where the humans are totally confused about what’s going on. Who’s the dummy in this story? It ain’t me, dudes!

  Let’s change the scene now. We’ll leave Ian and his dad scratching their heads at the front door. And let’s move a few blocks away.

  Yes, that little brick house is where Jonny and Vinny live. Why don’t we see what those two lovable rascals are up to? It might actually surprise even you! Hahahaha!

  Vinny slapped his brother on the back. “Way to go, Jonny!”

  Jonny slapped him back. “Way to go, Vinny!”

  The two boys bumped knuckles. They slapped high fives. They did a hard chest bump that left them both breathless. Then they did a crazy dance all around their bedroom, laughing and giggling.

  A major celebration.

  Slappy stared at them blankly from where they had propped him up on Vinny’s bed. The dummy sat lifelessly, arms hanging limply down at his sides.

  The boys shared a room in the back of their house. There was only enough space for two twin beds and a small dresser. The boys shared a laptop computer that sat on a card table against one wall.

  Vinny picked up Slappy and raised him till they were face-to-face. “Welcome to our house, dummy,” he said. “Guess what? You’ve been kidnapped!”

  That made both boys howl with laughter. They bumped knuckles again. Then they raised Slappy’s wooden hand and bumped knuckles with him.

  “Ian won’t have a clue,” Jonny said.

  Vinny chuckled. “He’s such a dweebo. He’ll probably think the dummy walked out on his own!”

  He lowered Slappy until the dummy’s brown leather shoes touched the floor. “Go ahead, dummy. Let’s see you walk.”

  He moved the dummy along the floor. “Come on. Aren’t you going to walk for us, Slappy?”

  “Ian believed that lame story about magic words that bring the dummy to life,” Jonny said, shaking his head. “The guy probably believes in the Easter Bunny, too.”

  “Whatever you do,” Vinny said, “don’t tell him there’s no Tooth Fairy. You’ll break his little heart. He’ll freak out.”

  That made the boys laugh some more.

  “Hey, what’s all the racket?” Their father’s voice came from the bedroom next to theirs.

  “Nothing,” Jonny shouted back.

  “It’s very late.” Mr. Harding groaned. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Just kidnapping a dummy,” Vinny whispered, grinning at his brother.

  “Well, I’m going to sleep. So be quiet in there,” their father called. “Tomorrow is Sunday. You can mess around all day. But let your mother and me get some sleep.”

  “No problem,” Vinny shouted through the wall. He sat Slappy down on the floor. “Ian will probably be looking for him all night,” he said, shaking his head. “He’ll have his whole family out searching for a living dummy.”

  “Leaving their front door open was brilliant,” Jonny said.

  “It was your idea,” Vinny told him.

  Jonny grinned. “I know. That’s why it was brilliant.”

  “Ian will be totally confused. His brain will explode.”

  “What a dummy,” Jonny said.

  They both hee-hawed at that.

  They fell asleep still giggling over the wonderful crime they had committed. They woke up a little after nine the next morning. Vinny grinned when he saw Slappy on the floor beside his bed.

  “I thought maybe I dreamed that we kidnapped him,” he said.

  “No. We really did it,” Jonny replied, still yawning from sleep.

  Vinny lifted Slappy onto his lap and slipped a hand into his back. He made the dummy’s mouth slide up and down. “Hello, boys and ghouls,” he made Slappy say in a tinny voice. “I’m a dummy. How about you?”

  “You’re moving your lips,” Jonny said. “You’re not doing it right. Here. Give him to me.”

  Jonny lifted Slappy off his brother’s lap. He shoved his hand into the dummy’s back. He made the eyes dart from side to side. “I found the eye controls. Cool,” Jonny said.

  He made the mouth work, the wooden lips clicking together. “Vinny rhymes with skinny,” he made the dummy say. “Vinny isn’t skinny. He’s about as skinny as a cow.”

  “Not funny,” Vinny said, tugging Slappy away from his brother. “Not funny—and you moved your lips.”

  “Give me a chance,” Jonny said. He grabbed the dummy’s hand and tried to pull it back. “I need to practice.”

  “You need to let go,” Vinny said. He shook a fist at his brother and Jonny lifted his hand from the dummy.

  “What do you think Ian is doing right now?” Vinny said.

  “Probably hiding under his bed. Terrified the living dummy will come back to get him.”

  They both laughed. Vinny set the dummy down on his bed.

  “We should send him a ransom note,” Vinny said.

  “A ransom note?”

  “You know. Make him pay to get his precious dummy back,” Vinny said. “How much should we ask for?”

  “A million dollars?” Jonny replied.

  Vinny laughed. “No. That’s not enough. How about five million?”

  They started to laugh again. But they both stopped short when Slappy raised his head. The dummy’s eyes slid back and forth, then stopped on the two startled boys.

  “Had your fun, punks?” Slappy rasped. “Now it’s MY turn. Are you ready to enter a world of PAIN?”

  Jonny made a choking sound. Vinny’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

  “Did you make him say that?” Jonny cried.

  Vinny shook his head. “No. No way.” His eyes were still wide with fright. His mouth hung open. Both boys stared at the dummy.

  Slappy’s eyes slid back and forth. He giggled. Suddenly, one of his big wooden hands swung up hard—and smacked Vinny in the nose.

  Vinny cried out and staggered back, blinking in pain. He grabbed his nose. “Hey—you gave me a nosebleed!”

  “I’ve got one, too!” the dummy screeched. “Look!”

  Slappy tilted his head back—and a thick stream of bright green goo came shooting from his nostrils. The dummy turned his head and shot a powerful wave of goo over Vinny.

  Vinny tried to squirm away. Too late. The thick, lumpy liquid splashed over his head, down his face, and down the front of his shirt. “It’s hot!” Vinny shrieked. “Owwww. It’s boiling hot.”

  Slappy giggled again and, keeping his head tilted back, kept spraying disgusting goo on Vinny.

  “It stinks!” Vinny wailed, thrashing his arms as the liquid poured over him, dropping to his knees. “And it’s burning me! Help! It’s burning me! Don’t just stand there. Help me!”

  Jonny’s mouth was frozen open, his face pale with horror. He took a deep breath, then dove at the dummy. Slappy ducked to the side. Jonny missed him and landed facedown on th
e bed.

  Before he could move, Slappy swung a hand and clonked Jonny on the head.

  Jonny screamed. The dummy had hit the bump still sore from the duckpin. Jonny grabbed his forehead as stab after stab of pain nearly blinded him.

  Before Jonny could move, Slappy turned his head—and sent a gob of the disgusting green goo from his nose plopping over Jonny.

  Jonny spun on the bed and slipped to the floor. Slappy splashed the green goo onto Jonny’s back, over the back of his head. Jonny howled in pain.

  “Mom! Dad!” Vinny screamed, slapping at the green gunk that covered him. “Help us! Can you hear us?”

  “Once they’re asleep, it’s impossible to wake them up,” his brother moaned.

  “Please—wake up! Wake up! We need help!” Vinny cried.

  Slappy tossed back his head and cackled. “Welcome to SlappyWorld, boys!”

  Vinny struggled to back away. On the floor, the hot puddle of goo bubbled over his bare ankles. He tugged the sheet off his bed and used it as a towel, wiping the putrid gunk off his face, his hair, his shoulders.

  Jonny climbed off the bed, mopping his face with both hands. The hot gunk burned his skin. The sour odor made his stomach churn.

  Slappy had stopped spewing from his nostrils. Now he sat against the headboard, a grin on his painted red lips, his eyes darting from side to side.

  “This is impossible!” Vinny cried, wiping goo from his hair. “It’s just impossible!”

  “Know what’s impossible?” Slappy rasped. “That someone with such a fat head should have such a tiny brain! Do you hear it rattling around in your skull?”

  Jonny made another choking sound. “He’s really talking all by himself,” he said to his brother. “He … he’s alive.”

  “You guys aren’t exactly brilliant,” the dummy shouted. “The only thing your heads are good for is to keep your hats off your shoulders! Hahahaha! I know you failed your IQ tests because you couldn’t spell IQ!”

  “This … is impossible,” Vinny repeated. “A dummy can’t talk on his own.”

  “Then what’s YOUR excuse?” Slappy cried. He laughed his shrill, cold laugh.

  Jonny turned to his brother. “We never should have kidnapped him.”

  Slappy snickered. “You guys may not be smart. But at least you’re ugly.”

  Vinny groaned. He took a few steps toward the bed, his eyes locked on Slappy’s grinning face. He remembered not to get too close. His nose still throbbed from the dummy’s wooden punch.

  “What do you want?” Vinny demanded. “Stop the jokes.”

  “You two are the jokes!” Slappy replied.

  “Just tell us what you want!” Vinny cried.

  “I want to tell you your new names,” the dummy replied.

  Jonny and Vinny exchanged glances. “New names? What new names?” Vinny demanded.

  “Your new names are Slave One and Slave Two.”

  “Are you joking?” Jonny said.

  The dummy leaned forward. “Are you breathing? It’s hard to tell if a slug is breathing.”

  “You mean you think we’ll be your slaves?” Vinny asked.

  “Let’s stop wasting time,” Slappy replied. “You ARE my slaves. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll give you Christmas off. Hahahaha!”

  “You’re crazy!” Jonny cried. “You can’t control us!”

  Slappy ignored Jonny’s words. “Here’s your first assignment,” he said. “I want you to go back to Ian’s house.”

  “Can we take you there?” Vinny asked. “Can we take you back there? It’s where you belong.”

  “You belong where you were born,” Slappy snapped. “Under a rock.”

  “We’ll take you back right away,” Vinny said.

  “Right away isn’t soon enough!” Slappy screamed. “Now shut up and listen to your master’s assignment for you. You will take me back to Ian’s, and you will help me find the slip of paper.”

  “What slip of paper?” Jonny demanded.

  “The paper that has the secret words on it, dummy,” Slappy snapped. “I don’t want anyone ever saying those words again. If someone reads the words again, I’ll go back to sleep. I can’t allow that. I’m alive! ALIVE! Get it, you dead heads?! Hahahaha.”

  Jonny and Vinny exchanged glances. “Is this really happening?” Vinny murmured.

  “And don’t get any funny ideas about reading the words yourselves,” Slappy rasped. “I can have another scalding-hot nosebleed on you guys. Don’t forget. Now let’s get going.”

  Vinny motioned toward the bedroom door with his eyes. Jonny quickly caught on.

  “Uh … I don’t think so,” Vinny said softly. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “And you know what?” Jonny chimed in. “That whole slave thing? That’s not going to happen, either.”

  Before Slappy could reply, Vinny burst forward and gave the dummy a hard shove with both hands. The shove sent Slappy toppling to the floor. His wooden head made a loud clonk as it bounced off the floorboards.

  Vinny and Jonny took off to the bedroom door. Jonny got there first. He wrapped his hand around the knob, twisted it, and pulled.

  “Hey!” Both boys uttered cries.

  Jonny tried the door again. It wouldn’t budge.

  They turned back to Slappy, who had climbed to his feet, eyes wide, hands on the top of the bed.

  “The door … it’s locked,” Vinny stammered.

  Slappy snickered. “Do you think I’m a dummy? Of COURSE it’s locked. Maybe we should change your names. How about Prisoner One and Prisoner Two?”

  He took a few steps toward them. He walked in a jerky motion. His legs were light and rubbery. His heavy shoes scraped the floor.

  Jonny spun away from the dummy and tried the door one more time. Vinny watched the dummy approach. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “If we find you the sheet of paper, will you leave us alone?”

  “Of course not,” Slappy said. “You are both mine now. What is it about being a slave that you don’t understand?”

  Both boys jumped when they heard a hard knock on the other side of the bedroom door. “Hey—what’s going on in there?” their mom shouted from the hallway.

  “Mom! Help us!” Jonny cried.

  Vinny pushed Jonny out of the way and grabbed the door handle. He twisted the knob and gave a hard tug, so hard it made him groan.

  The door swung open.

  Mrs. Harding stood there, a startled look on her face.

  “Mom—help us!” Vinny cried. “The dummy—it’s alive. It’s alive!”

  Mrs. Harding swept past the two boys in the doorway and burst into the room. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  She was short and very thin and wore a long white sweatshirt over maroon sweatpants. She had been sick for a while and her now-baggy clothes hung loosely on her. Her blond hair had streaks of gray in it, which the boys hadn’t noticed before.

  She squinted from Jonny to Vinny. “Slappy? Here? What are you so worked up about?”

  She gazed down and saw the dummy, folded up in a heap, facedown on the floor beside the bed.

  “He—he’s alive!” Vinny stammered, pointing down at the dummy with a trembling finger. “He’s crazy, Mom!”

  Mrs. Harding walked over to the dummy. “Are you sure he’s the one that’s crazy?” she said. “It’s just a dummy, guys.” She poked it gently with the toe of her sneaker.

  Slappy’s chest hit the floor. He lay limply, arms beneath him, eyes shut tight.

  She turned back to Jonny and Vinny. “Are you playing some kind of joke? You don’t really expect me to think that this dummy is alive—do you? Have you two been seeing too many horror movies? I’ll take away your Netflix. I mean it.”

  “Mom, please—” Jonny begged.

  “What’s it doing here?” she demanded. “Did Ian loan it to you?”

  “Never mind,” Vinny said. “We’re not joking, Mom. This dummy is evil. We said some secret words, and it came to lif
e. We thought it was a joke, but—”

  Their mom poked the dummy gently with her shoe again. Its arms flopped up, then down. The head bounced on the floor. The eyes didn’t open. The dummy didn’t move.

  “I don’t get the joke,” Mrs. Harding said. “Could you explain to me what’s funny here?”

  “It’s not funny,” Vinny said. “It’s real. We’re not lying.”

  “The dummy is alive,” Jonny added. “I swear.”

  Their mother let out a long whoosh of air. “I have a lot to do this morning. I don’t have time for this silliness.”

  Vinny darted forward and picked the dummy up off the floor. Holding it around the waist, he started to shake it. “Move, Slappy!” he shouted. “Go ahead—move. Talk! Go ahead! Move!”

  The dummy bounced limply in Vinny’s hands. The head slumped forward, then back. The arms hung lifelessly at its sides.

  “I don’t know what your problem is,” Mrs. Harding said, frowning. “But that dummy is definitely not alive. It’s a few pieces of painted wood attached to a suit and tie. Dummies don’t come to life, no matter how many magic words you say.”

  She turned and started toward the door. “Did you boys have nightmares or something last night?”

  Vinny stood with the dummy still hanging limply between his hands. “Mom, listen to us—”

  “No. I won’t listen to any more,” she replied. She stopped at the bedroom door. “Take that thing back to Ian. Right now. It’s Ian’s birthday gift. I’m not even going to ask you how it got here. I hope Ian loaned it to you two for a while. But now I want you to return it. Go ahead. Put on your shoes and carry it back to Ian’s house.”

  She stepped out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind her.

  As soon as she was down the hall, Slappy raised his head. He blinked his eyes. His red-lipped grin appeared to grow wider.

  “Mom knows best, boys,” he said.

  A few minutes later, Jonny and Vinny left the house through the kitchen door. Vinny had the dummy slung over his shoulder. As he walked across the grass, Slappy’s head banged against his back.