31 - Night of the Living Dummy II Read Online Free

in a dummy’s head?”
    “Beats me,” Dad replied, shaking his head. “And it looks like there are
wormholes in it!”
    “Yuuuuuck!” we both cried in unison.
    Dad handed Slappy back to me. Then he hurried into the kitchen to get rid of
the rotted, moldy sandwich.
    I heard him run the garbage disposal. Then I heard water running as he washed
his hands. A few seconds later, Dad returned to the living room, drying his
hands on a dish towel.
    “Maybe we’d better examine Slappy closely,” he suggested. “We don’t want any
more surprises— do we?”
    I carried Slappy into the kitchen, and we stretched him out on the counter.
Dad examined the dummy’s shoes carefully. They were attached to the legs and
didn’t come off.
    I put my finger on the dummy’s chin and moved the mouth up and down. Then I
checked out his wooden hands.
    I unbuttoned the gray suit jacket and studied the dummy’s painted shirt.
Patches of the white paint had chipped and cracked. But it was okay.
    “Everything looks fine, Dad,” I reported.
    He nodded. Then he smelled his fingers. I guess he hadn’t washed away all of the stink from the rotted sandwich.
    “We’d better spray the inside of his head with disinfectant or perfume or
something,” Dad said.
    Then, as I was buttoning up the jacket, something caught my eye.
    Something yellow. A slip of paper poking up from the jacket pocket.
    It’s probably a sales receipt, I thought.
    But when I pulled out the small square of yellow paper, I found strange
writing on it. Weird words in a language I’d never seen before.
    I squinted hard at the paper and slowly read the words out loud:
    “Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”
    I wonder what that means? I thought.
    And then I glanced down at Slappy’s face.
    And saw his red lips twitch.
    And saw one eye slowly close in a wink.

 
 
6
     
     
    “D-d-dad!” I stuttered. “He—moved!”
    “Huh?” Dad had gone back to the sink to wash his hands for a third time.
“What’s wrong with the dummy?”
    “He moved!” I cried. “He winked at me!”
    Dad came over to the counter, wiping his hands. “I told you, Amy—he can’t
blink. The eyes only move from side to side.”
    “No!” I insisted. “He winked. His lips twitched, and he winked.”
    Dad frowned and picked up the dummy head in both hands. He raised it to
examine it. “Well… maybe the eyelids are loose,” he said. “I’ll see if I
can tighten them up. Maybe if I take a screwdriver I can—”
    Dad didn’t finish his sentence.
    Because the dummy swung his wooden hand up and hit Dad on the side of the
head.
    “Ow!” Dad cried, dropping the dummy back onto the counter. Dad grabbed his cheek. “Hey—stop it, Amy! That hurt!”
    “Me?” I shrieked. “I didn’t do it!”
    Dad glared at me, rubbing his cheek. It had turned bright red.
    “The dummy did it!” I insisted. “I didn’t touch him, Dad! I didn’t move his
hand!”
    “Not funny,” Dad muttered. “You know I don’t like practical jokes.”
    I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. I decided I’d better just
shut up.
    Of course Dad wouldn’t believe that the dummy had slapped him.
    I didn’t believe it myself.
    Dad must have pulled too hard when he was examining the head. Dad jerked the
hand up without realizing it.
    That’s how I explained it to myself.
    What other explanation could there be?
     
    I apologized to Dad. Then we washed Slappy’s face with a damp sponge. We
cleaned him up and sprayed disinfectant inside his head.
    He was starting to look pretty good.
    I thanked Dad again and hurried to my room. I set Slappy down on the chair
beside Dennis. Then I phoned Margo.
    “I got a new dummy,” I told her excitedly. “I can perform for the kids’
birthday parties. At The Party House.”
    “That’s great, Amy!” Margo exclaimed. “Now all you need is an act.”
    She was right.
    I needed jokes. A lot of jokes. If I was going to perform with Slappy in
front of dozens