Read Online 40 - Night of the Living Dummy III by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)
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Rocky away.
23
The dummy turned.
My hand fumbled for the light switch. I clicked on the light.
I stood frozen in front of the couch. Too startled to move.
“Smiley—stop!” I screamed.
The dummy’s grin faded. The eyes narrowed at me. “I’m not Smiley,” he
croaked. He had a hoarse, raspy voice. “My name is Slappy.”
He turned back to the stairs.
“Stop him!” I cried to my brother.
We both made a dive for the dummy.
Slappy spun around. He pulled Rocky off his shoulder—and heaved him at Dan.
I grabbed Slappy around the waist and tackled him to the floor.
He swung both hands hard. One of them slammed into my forehead.
“Unh.” I let out a groan as the pain shot through me.
My hands slid off the dummy’s slender waist. Slappy jumped nimbly to his
feet, his grin wide and leering.
He was enjoying this!
He kicked me in the side with the toe of his big leather shoe.
My head still throbbing, I rolled out of the way. And turned back in time to
see Dan grab the dummy from behind.
Dan drove his head into the dummy’s back. They both dropped hard to the
floor.
“Let go of me, slave!” Slappy demanded in his ugly, hoarse voice. “You are my
slave now! Let go of me! I order you!”
I pulled myself to my knees as Dan and Slappy wrestled over the floor.
“He’s so… strong!” Dan called out to me.
Slappy rolled on top of him. Started to pound him with his wooden fists.
I grabbed Slappy by the shoulders and tugged with all my strength. Slappy
swung his arms, thrashing at my brother.
I pulled hard, trying to tug him off Dan’s stomach.
“Let go! Let go!” the dummy shrieked. “Let go, slave!”
“Get off him!” I cried.
We were making such a racket, I didn’t hear the attic door open downstairs.
And I didn’t hear the footsteps running up the stairs.
A face appeared. And then a large body.
“Dad!” I cried breathlessly. “Dad—look!”
“What on earth—!” Dad exclaimed.
“Dad—it’s alive! The dummy is alive!” I shrieked.
“Huh?” Squinting through his glasses, Dad lowered his gaze to the dummy on
the floor.
The dummy sprawled lifelessly on its back beside Dan. One arm was twisted
beneath its back. Both legs were bent in two.
The mouth hung open in its painted grin. The eyes stared blankly at the
ceiling.
“It is alive!” Dan insisted. “It really is!”
Dad stared down at the still, silent dummy.
“The dummy picked up Rocky!” Dan declared in a high, excited voice. “He said
his name was Slappy. He picked up Rocky. He was carrying him downstairs.”
Dad tsk-tsked and shook his head. “Give it up, Dan,” he murmured
angrily. “Just stop it right now.” He raised his eyes to Dan, then to me. “I
knew you two were the troublemakers.”
“But, Dad—” I protested.
“I’m not an idiot,” Dad snapped, scowling at me. “You can’t expect me to
believe a dumb story about a dummy coming to life and carrying another dummy
around. Have you both lost your minds entirely?”
“It’s true,” Dan insisted.
We both gazed down at Slappy. He sure didn’t look alive. For a moment, I had the frightening feeling that I’d dreamed the
whole scene.
But then I remembered something. “I have proof!” I cried. “Dad, I can prove
to you that Dan and I aren’t lying.”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m so tired,” he moaned. “It’s been such a
long, horrible day. Please. Give me a break, Trina.”
“But I took some pictures!” I told him. “I have pictures of Slappy carrying
Rocky!”
“Trina, I’m warning you—” Dad started.
But I spun away, searching for my camera. Where was it? Where?
It took me a few seconds to spot it on the floor against the wall back by the
couch. I hurried across the room to grab it.
And stopped halfway.
The back of the camera—it had sprung open. The film was exposed. The
pictures were ruined.
The camera must have flown out of my hand when I tried to tackle Slappy, I
realized.
23
The dummy turned.
My hand fumbled for the light switch. I clicked on the light.
I stood frozen in front of the couch. Too startled to move.
“Smiley—stop!” I screamed.
The dummy’s grin faded. The eyes narrowed at me. “I’m not Smiley,” he
croaked. He had a hoarse, raspy voice. “My name is Slappy.”
He turned back to the stairs.
“Stop him!” I cried to my brother.
We both made a dive for the dummy.
Slappy spun around. He pulled Rocky off his shoulder—and heaved him at Dan.
I grabbed Slappy around the waist and tackled him to the floor.
He swung both hands hard. One of them slammed into my forehead.
“Unh.” I let out a groan as the pain shot through me.
My hands slid off the dummy’s slender waist. Slappy jumped nimbly to his
feet, his grin wide and leering.
He was enjoying this!
He kicked me in the side with the toe of his big leather shoe.
My head still throbbing, I rolled out of the way. And turned back in time to
see Dan grab the dummy from behind.
Dan drove his head into the dummy’s back. They both dropped hard to the
floor.
“Let go of me, slave!” Slappy demanded in his ugly, hoarse voice. “You are my
slave now! Let go of me! I order you!”
I pulled myself to my knees as Dan and Slappy wrestled over the floor.
“He’s so… strong!” Dan called out to me.
Slappy rolled on top of him. Started to pound him with his wooden fists.
I grabbed Slappy by the shoulders and tugged with all my strength. Slappy
swung his arms, thrashing at my brother.
I pulled hard, trying to tug him off Dan’s stomach.
“Let go! Let go!” the dummy shrieked. “Let go, slave!”
“Get off him!” I cried.
We were making such a racket, I didn’t hear the attic door open downstairs.
And I didn’t hear the footsteps running up the stairs.
A face appeared. And then a large body.
“Dad!” I cried breathlessly. “Dad—look!”
“What on earth—!” Dad exclaimed.
“Dad—it’s alive! The dummy is alive!” I shrieked.
“Huh?” Squinting through his glasses, Dad lowered his gaze to the dummy on
the floor.
The dummy sprawled lifelessly on its back beside Dan. One arm was twisted
beneath its back. Both legs were bent in two.
The mouth hung open in its painted grin. The eyes stared blankly at the
ceiling.
“It is alive!” Dan insisted. “It really is!”
Dad stared down at the still, silent dummy.
“The dummy picked up Rocky!” Dan declared in a high, excited voice. “He said
his name was Slappy. He picked up Rocky. He was carrying him downstairs.”
Dad tsk-tsked and shook his head. “Give it up, Dan,” he murmured
angrily. “Just stop it right now.” He raised his eyes to Dan, then to me. “I
knew you two were the troublemakers.”
“But, Dad—” I protested.
“I’m not an idiot,” Dad snapped, scowling at me. “You can’t expect me to
believe a dumb story about a dummy coming to life and carrying another dummy
around. Have you both lost your minds entirely?”
“It’s true,” Dan insisted.
We both gazed down at Slappy. He sure didn’t look alive. For a moment, I had the frightening feeling that I’d dreamed the
whole scene.
But then I remembered something. “I have proof!” I cried. “Dad, I can prove
to you that Dan and I aren’t lying.”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m so tired,” he moaned. “It’s been such a
long, horrible day. Please. Give me a break, Trina.”
“But I took some pictures!” I told him. “I have pictures of Slappy carrying
Rocky!”
“Trina, I’m warning you—” Dad started.
But I spun away, searching for my camera. Where was it? Where?
It took me a few seconds to spot it on the floor against the wall back by the
couch. I hurried across the room to grab it.
And stopped halfway.
The back of the camera—it had sprung open. The film was exposed. The
pictures were ruined.
The camera must have flown out of my hand when I tried to tackle Slappy, I
realized.
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