31 - Night of the Living Dummy II by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

table, eating his Frosted Flakes. “What’s he doing down here?” Jed asked.
    He pointed across the table.
    At Slappy. Sitting in the chair.

 
 
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    Sara and I both gasped.
    “Yes. Why is that dummy down here?” Mom asked me. “I found him sitting there
when I came in this morning. And why is he so dirty? Where has he been, Amy?”
    I could barely choke out a word. “I… uh… I guess he fell or
something,” I finally mumbled.
    “Well, take him back upstairs,” Mom ordered. “He’s supposed to be kept in the
closet—remember?”
    “Uh… yeah. I remember,” I said, sighing.
    “You’ll have to clean him up later,” Mom said, stirring her coffee. “He looks
as if he’s been wallowing in the mud.”
    “Okay,” I replied weakly.
    I hoisted Slappy up and slung him over my shoulder. Then I started to my
room.
    “I—I’ll come with you,” Sara stammered.
    “What for?” Mom demanded. “Sit down, Sara, and eat your breakfast. You’re both going to be late.”
    Sara obediently sat down across from Jed. I made my way down the hall.
    I was halfway to my room when Slappy raised his head and whispered in my ear,
“Good morning, slave. Did you sleep well?”
    I tossed him into the closet and locked the door. I could hear him laughing
inside the closet. The evil laugh made me shake all over.
    What am I going to do now? I asked myself. What can I do to get rid of
this creature?
     
    The day dragged by. I don’t think I heard a word my teacher said.
    I couldn’t get Slappy’s evil, grinning face out of my mind. His raspy voice
rattled in my ears.
    I won’t be your slave! I silently vowed. I’ll get you out of my house—out of my life—if it’s the last thing I do!
     
    That night, I lay wide awake in my bed. How could I sleep, knowing that evil
dummy sat in the closet a few feet away?
    The night was hot and steamy. I had pushed the window open all the way, but
there was no breeze. A fly buzzed by my head, the first fly of spring.
    Staring up at the twisting shadows on the ceiling, I brushed the fly away with one hand. As soon as the buzzing vanished,
another sound took its place.
    A click. A low squeak.
    The sound of the closet door opening.
    I raised myself up off the pillow. Squinting into the darkness, I saw Slappy
creep out of the closet.
    He took a few shuffling steps, his big shoes sliding silently over my carpet.
He turned.
    Was he coming toward my bed?
    No.
    His head and shoulders bobbed as he pulled himself to the door. Then out into
the hall.
    He’s going to Sara’s room, I knew.
    But what was he going to do there? Did he plan to pay us back for what we did
to him last night?
    What new horror was he going to create?
    I lowered my feet to the floor, climbed out of bed, and followed him out into
the hall.

 
 
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    My eyes adjusted quickly to the dim yellow light from the night-light at the
other end of the hall. I watched Slappy slither toward my sister’s room. He
moved as silently as a shadow.
    I held my breath and kept my back against the wall as I followed behind him.
When he turned into Sara’s room, I stepped away from the wall and started to
run.
    I reached the bedroom doorway in time to see Slappy pick up a wide paintbrush
from Sara’s supply table. He took a step toward the mural on the wall.
    One step.
    And then another small figure leaped out of the darkness.
    The lights flashed on.
    “Dennis!” I cried.
    “Stand back!” Dennis ordered in a high, shrill voice. He lowered his
wooden head and charged at Slappy.
    Sara sat up in her bed and uttered a frightened cry.
    I could see the stunned expression on Slappy’s face.
    Dennis flew at Slappy. He slammed his head into Slappy’s middle.
    Slappy let out a loud “Oooof!” He staggered back. Fell.
    A loud thud rang through the room as the back of Slappy’s head hit
Sara’s iron bedpost.
    I raised both hands to my cheeks and gasped as Slappy’s head cracked open.
    The wooden head split down the