by R. L. Stine
CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE.
PART ONE CAIRO, EGYPT
1
2
3
4
PART TWO
5
6
7
8
PART THREE
9
10
11
12
13
SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE.
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21
SLAPPY HERE, EVERYONE.
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EPILOGUE FROM SLAPPY
SNEAK PEEK!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO AVAILABLE
COPYRIGHT
Welcome to My World.
Yes, it’s SlappyWorld—you’re only screaming in it! Hahahaha!
Are you wearing sunglasses? You should. I’m so bright, the sun hides when I come out! Hahaha. I’m so bright, I glow in the dark!
How smart am I? Even though I don’t know you, I can spell your name.
Are you ready?
Y-O-U-R N-A-M-E! Hahaha!
Do you know my favorite national holiday? It’s my BIRTHDAY. Everyone likes to come to my birthday parties because my parties are a SCREAM. Hahaha.
Know my favorite birthday present of all time? It was a pony.
It was DELICIOUS! Hahahaha!
I have a story to tell you, and it takes place in a museum. Did you ever see my picture in the National Dummy Museum? Of course not! Don’t call me dummy, Dummy!
But I do belong in a museum. That’s because people like to stare at me and admire my good looks. I’m so handsome, every time I peek in a mirror, the mirror says, “Thank you!” Hahaha.
Well, the museum in this story is a haunted museum. And three guesses who haunts it!
I call the story The Dummy Meets the Mummy! It’s a very creepy mummy story. I think you’ll get all wrapped up in it! Hahaha!
How did I end up in a haunted horror museum? And why did I have to do battle with an ancient, angry mummy?
You’d better start reading or you’ll never find out! Hahaha!
Believe it or not, the story starts at an ancient mummy’s tomb in Egypt. And then it gets so scary, you may want to call your mummy! Hahahaha.
It’s just one more terrifying tale from SlappyWorld.
Dr. Richard Klopfer gazed at his mobile phone. He smiled at the face of his son, Christopher, on the screen. Dr. Klopfer leaned forward in his armchair to talk to him.
Outside the hotel window, he heard car horns honking, a rumble of traffic, voices speaking loudly in Arabic and French and English. A crowded Cairo street.
“I will bring you with me next time, Christopher,” he said. He tugged at the sides of his wide salt-and-pepper mustache. “This mission is far too dangerous for a ten-year-old.”
“Why is it dangerous?” Christopher demanded. “You’re going into an old tomb, and you’re going to open up a mummy case and discover another mummy.”
“This one is different,” Klopfer explained. “The tomb has never been opened because people are too afraid to go inside it.”
Christopher squinted at his father. “Afraid?”
“Some kind of curse,” Klopfer said. He chuckled. “There’s always some kind of curse. People believe the weirdest stories. Even in this modern day and age.”
Klopfer saw a look of fear cross Christopher’s face. “Dad … are you going to be okay?”
“Of course!” Klopfer cried. “I’m a scientist. I don’t believe in curses. I’m not afraid to go into that tomb.”
“Then why didn’t you bring me?” Christopher asked.
Before Klopfer could answer, Bella Wortham, his assistant, entered the hotel room. Dr. Klopfer said a quick good-bye to his son and set his phone down on the table.
“Dr. Klopfer, the man from the Egyptian Science Council is here,” Wortham said.
“Does he have a worried look on his face?” Klopfer asked her.
She nodded. “Very worried.”
Klopfer tugged at his mustache. “I thought so. Send him in, Bella.”
Wortham brought the man into the room. “Dr. Klopfer, this is Mr. Amari,” she said.
Amari removed his white fedora as he entered and forced a smile to his face. He had black hair, slicked straight back, and dark eyes that studied Dr. Klopfer. He wore a white suit, slightly wrinkled and baggy, with a narrow black tie over his white shirt.
He gave Dr. Klopfer a short bow, then reached to shake hands. Klopfer motioned to the chair across from him. Amari sat down and placed his hat on the table.
“You know why I have come,” Amari said in a soft voice. “To ask you—”
Klopfer raised a hand. “Please.”
“To ask you not to go into the Tomb of Arragotus,” Amari finished his sentence. “The tomb has not been disturbed in any way for five thousand years. And there is a good reason.”
“Can I offer you something to drink?” Klopfer said. “I could call up for some snacks.”
“You are ignoring me,” Amari replied, his voice still a murmur.
“Yes,” Klopfer agreed. “I am ignoring you, Mr. Amari. I plan to go into that tomb tomorrow and open the mummy case and see Prince Arragotus. I plan to be the first ever to see his remains.”
“He was never a prince,” Amari said. He picked up his hat and twirled it in his lap between his hands. “You know the story very well. Arragotus was about to be crowned prince. And he was murdered on the morning of his crowning. He never sat on the throne he deserved.”
“I’ve read all that,” Klopfer replied. “I still don’t believe in the curse.”
“He’s angry. I’m warning you.” Amari grabbed Klopfer’s shirtsleeve. “He has not rested. Yes, he is a mummy. But that has not stilled his anger. He is a mummy who would like to take his revenge.”
Klopfer shook his head. “You have watched too many horror movies, sir. That story may frighten children, but I am a scientist. I plan to take Arragotus home to Chicago and study him at great length. He will be famous. He may be angry as you say. But he will still be dead.”
Amari rose to his feet. “His remains should not be disturbed. Is there nothing I can say to convince—?”
Klopfer shook his head. “No. But it was kind of you to come, Mr. Amari. I do appreciate your warning.”
Amari pushed his hat onto his head. “If you insist on disturbing Arragotus tomorrow, there is only one more thing I can say.” He paused. Then he murmured, “Good luck.”
The tall pyramid-shaped tomb cast a long shadow over the desert sands. Klopfer and his team arrived in a caravan of jeeps. They parked in a line near the narrow entrance, a low, dark cave opening.
The entrance and the tunnel inside the ancient tomb had taken two years to dig. And now Klopfer’s heart beat with excitement. He was finally going to see the mummy. He was finally going to achieve his dream.
The local guards went in first to make sure the tunnel was clear and safe. The video crew went next. Klopfer wanted every second of his triumph to be seen by the world.
Then Klopfer led the way, followed by only the necessary members of his team. Bella, his assistant, had pleaded to come along. At the last minute, he gave her the pith helmet and khaki uniform all who entered had to wear.
Klopfer ducked his head and stepped into the darkness of the tomb. He p
aused and took a deep breath. Was the air he breathed really five thousand years old?
A smile crossed his face. In a few hours, he knew he would be the envy of scientists around the world.
Klopfer’s boots scraped the tunnel floor, sending up a curtain of dust. The tunnel headed down. The air grew warmer with every step. The lights held by the team crisscrossed the walls and floor as they walked.
Klopfer took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, to slow his heartbeat. He could feel his hot sweat drench the back of his neck. “Unbearable excitement,” he murmured to himself.
He raised his face to a video camera that was trained on him. “We are about to make history,” he said. “We are about to uncover something the world has not seen in five thousand years.”
He turned to Bella Wortham, who walked a few steps behind him. “I will need you to write the first report,” he told her. “The first impressions. The first thoughts upon seeing Arragotus.”
She smiled. “So I guess you’re glad you decided to bring me along?”
Klopfer didn’t reply. His mind was whirling with ideas of what was about to happen.
They finally reached the chamber where Arragotus rested in his stone case. It seemed to take forever to get the work crew in place.
Klopfer stopped a few feet away. Wortham stayed close at his side. Six workers lined up on each side of the mummy case.
Klopfer could barely breathe as they gripped the heavy lid and slowly began to slide it off the case. The lid made a whining, scraping sound that echoed down the long tunnel.
Video cameras were trained on the case. All eyes were on the lid as the workers struggled to move it away.
“Yes!” Klopfer let out a cry as the case was opened. “This is the moment, everyone! This is history!”
Heart thudding in his chest, he moved forward. His legs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each. His whole body trembled with excitement.
Holding his breath, Klopfer stepped up to the tall case. He leaned over and peered inside.
It was empty.
Dr. Klopfer let out a choking gasp. He gripped the side of the mummy case as his knees started to collapse. Two crew members hurried to prop him up and keep him from falling.
Startled cries echoed all around.
“Turn off the video recorders!” Klopfer cried in a shrill, trembling voice. “Turn them off. Now!”
He raised his eyes to see Bella. She was staring at the side of the coffin.
Still breathing hard, Klopfer began to feel a little stronger. “What are you gazing at?” he called to his assistant.
“Do you see this ancient writing?” she replied. “I can make out a few words. But I don’t know what they mean.”
Klopfer frowned. “Probably just a telling of the ridiculous curse.”
“But maybe they reveal where the mummy of Arragotus is hiding?” Wortham said.
Klopfer backed up a few steps. Crew members shone lights on the coffin’s side. He scanned the strange words quickly.
“Yes, I can read it,” he said. He squinted hard. “I can read it, but I can’t make any sense of it.”
Wortham stared at him. “What does it say?”
Klopfer read the words: “ABASEEGO MODARO LAMADOROS CREBEN!”
A hush fell over the chamber as the words rang over the walls and down the tunnel. Klopfer continued to stare at the strange inscription, as if hypnotized.
“Can you translate, Dr. Klopfer?” Wortham’s voice stirred him from his thoughts.
“No,” he said. “I told you. I have no idea what they mean. They don’t appear to have any meaning at all. They—”
He stopped as a loud noise burst in front of him. A cracking sound. Like wood breaking.
He and Wortham looked down at the mummy case as another sound—a slow creaking—seemed to rise from inside.
The crew turned to the case. Video cameras began to record again.
Klopfer took a few steps closer to the side of the case—and gasped.
“The floor of the mummy case—it has cracked open!” he cried. He leaned over the side. “It has a false bottom. And the bottom is splitting. Something beneath it is—”
He never finished his sentence.
A hand shot up. An ugly hand swathed in bandages and tar. It burst through the bottom of the case.
It grabbed Klopfer’s mustache—and ripped it off his face.
A chunk of skin came flying off with it.
Eyes bulging in horror, Klopfer opened his mouth in an animal howl of pain.
He started to slide to the floor. But before he collapsed, the false bottom cracked wide open, and the ancient mummy sat up. He grabbed Klopfer. Clawed at his face. Clawed until there was no face left.
Shrill screams and horrified cries bounced off the chamber walls.
Klopfer fell to the floor. He lay sprawled on his stomach beside the case. Blood dripped off the mummy’s wrapped hands. He uttered a low growl that seemed to come from deep inside his belly.
The ancient hands gripped both sides of the case. With another groan, Arragotus struggled to pull himself up. Everyone could see he was about to climb out of his coffin.
“Somebody—do something!” a man screamed. “Do something!”
Crew members stampeded into the tunnel. A wild scramble. They left their equipment behind and ran screaming.
Bella Wortham had a desperate idea. She turned to the strange words on the side of the mummy case. She squinted hard, struggling to make them out. Then she shouted them in a frightened voice:
“ABASEEGO MODARO LAMADOROS CREBEN!”
She gasped as the mummy stopped moving. His hands slid away from the coffin sides. His body relaxed. He settled onto his back on the cracked coffin bottom, arms at his side.
He didn’t move.
“Quick!” Wortham shouted to the men who were still in the tomb, frozen there by their fear. “Cover him! Cover him!”
The crew members appeared to shake themselves from their daze. They moved to the coffin lid and struggled to hoist the heavy stone slab off the cavern floor.
The mummy remained asleep. He didn’t move.
Groaning from the weight of the lid, the men raised it and slid it over the coffin.
Silence.
The only sounds now were the heavy breathing of the crew.
Wortham wiped the cold sweat off her forehead with her neckerchief. She took long, slow breaths, trying to calm her racing heartbeats.
“What next?” she wondered.
* * *
Two weeks later, she was sitting in Dr. Klopfer’s hospital room. He had survived three surgeries to repair his face. His head was completely bandaged.
Mr. Amari entered the room. He twirled his white hat in his hands. “We were just discussing where to send the mummy,” Wortham told him. “Dr. Klopfer doesn’t want it sent to his science lab, after all.”
A groan escaped Klopfer’s mouth. The sound was muffled by the bandages that covered his entire head.
Wortham couldn’t help but think, The poor doctor looks like a mummy himself.
After another groan, Klopfer’s voice came out stronger. “I don’t care where you send this mummy. Send it to Mars, for all I care. But do not send it to my lab.”
Amari’s gaze went from one to the other. “I urged you not to disturb the tomb. Now, this is your burden. You are responsible for this mummy. Not us.”
Klopfer’s head turned to Wortham. “Get rid of it! But be careful. The mummy is dangerous. Do not send it anywhere it could hurt people.”
He coughed. Another groan. And then he cried, “Arragotus must never be seen again!”
My name is Aaron Riggles and I’m twelve. Mom, Dad, and my sister, Kristina, were sitting at the dinner table when I walked in.
Dad was already complaining about Mom’s meatloaf because he doesn’t like meatloaf and he likes to complain. He works in a tire store, and people come in and complain about their tires all day long. So Dad has to get his complai
ning in when he gets home.
“Hey, check this out,” I said. I have a scratchy voice that makes me sound like a frog with a cold. I hate it. And I hate the freckles all over my cheeks and my red hair.
But what can I do?
Kristina and I don’t look like we’re in the same family. Her hair is long and straight and black, and her skin is pale like Mom’s. Actually, she looks like a Mom clone, and I don’t look like anyone.
I came into the dining room dragging a long wooden chest behind me. It looked a little like a pirate’s treasure chest.
“You’re late,” Dad grumbled.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I replied. Dad says I have a “smart mouth,” and Dad is right. Is that a bad thing?
“What are you dragging in here?” Mom asked, helping herself from the bowl of string beans. “Where did you get that?”
I mopped the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my T-shirt. “At school,” I said.
They all stared at the wooden chest. The wood was scratched up and stained. The metal clasps were rusted. The chest appeared to be very old.
“A puppeteer came to school,” I said, leaning on my chair at the table. “He called himself Mandrake the Great.”
“Cornball name,” Dad muttered. “Were his puppets as lame as his name?”
“No,” I said. I love puppets. I have two clown marionettes up in my room that I play with a lot. I make them dance and bow to each other, and I do whole shows just for myself.
Kristina says that makes me a weirdo freak. But who asked her?
“Mandrake put on a funny assembly,” I said. “He had about six puppets, and he did different voices for each one. It was a little babyish, but everyone liked it anyway.”
Dad took a long drink of water. “You’re not explaining about the chest.”
“I’m getting to it,” I said. “I was leaving school, and I saw Mandrake in the parking lot. He was loading his puppets into his SUV. So I went over and told him how I was into puppets, too. And I said I liked his show.”
“You’re still not explaining,” Dad said.
“Give him a chance,” Mom interrupted. She is always sticking up for me. Mom is the best.
“My meatloaf is getting cold,” Dad complained. He always complains his food is too cold. Once, he complained that his ice cream was too cold. Seriously.
