شبی با عروسک زنده 2 فصل 07

Night of the Living Dummy 2 - Chapter 7

I let out another cry. I pointed to the living room with a trembling finger. “M-mom! Dad!” I stammered.

Sara was still talking about the art competition. But she turned to see what everyone was gaping at.

The dummy’s head popped out from behind the armchair.

“It’s Dennis!” I cried.

I heard muffled laughter. Jed’s muffled laughter.

The dummy reached up both hands and pulled off his own head. And Jed’s head popped up through the green turtleneck. He still had spaghetti sauce smeared on his cheeks. He was laughing hard.

Everyone else started to laugh, too. Everyone but me.

Jed had really frightened me.

He had pulled the neck of his sweater way up over his head. Then he had tucked Dennis’ wooden head inside the turtleneck.

Jed was so short and thin. It really looked as if Dennis were creeping into the room.

“Stop laughing!” I shouted at my family. “It isn’t funny!”

“I think it’s very funny!” Mom cried. “What a crazy thing to think of!” “Very clever,” Dad added.

“It’s not clever,” I insisted. I glared furiously at my brother. “I always knew you were a dummy!” I screamed at him.

“Amy, you really were scared,” Sara accused. “You nearly dropped your teeth!” “Not true!” I sputtered. “I knew it was Dennis—I mean—Jed!”

Now everyone started laughing at me! I could feel my face getting hot, and I knew I was blushing.

That made them all laugh even harder.

Nice family, huh?

I climbed to my feet, walked around the table, and took Dennis’ head away from Jed. “Don’t go in my room,” I told him through clenched teeth. “And don’t mess with my stuff.” I stomped away to put the dummy head back in my room.

“It was just a joke, Amy,” I heard Sara call after me.

“Yeah. It was just a joke,” Jed repeated nastily.

“Ha-ha!” I shouted back at them. “What a riot!”

My anger had faded away by the time we started Family Sharing Night. We settled in the living room, taking our usual places.

Mom volunteered to go first. She told a funny story about something that had happened at work.

Mom works in a fancy women’s clothing store downtown. She told us about a really big woman who came into the store and insisted on trying on only tiny sizes.

The woman ripped every piece of clothing she tried on—and then bought them all! “They’re not for me,” the woman explained. “They’re for my sister!” We all laughed. But I was surprised Mom told that story. Because Mom is pretty chubby. And she’s very sensitive about it.

About as sensitive as Dad is about being bald.

Dad was the next to share. He brought out his guitar, and we all groaned. Dad thinks he’s a great singer. But he’s nearly as tone deaf as I am.

He loves singing all these old folk songs from the sixties. There’s supposed to be some kind of message in them. But Sara, Jed, and I have no idea what he’s singing about.

Dad strummed away and sang something about not working on Maggie’s farm anymore. At least, I think that’s what he was saying.

We all clapped and cheered. But Dad knew we didn’t really mean it.

It was Jed’s turn next. But he insisted that he had already shared. “Dressing up like Dennis—that was it,” he said.

No one wanted to argue with him. “Your turn, Amy,” Mom said, leaning against Dad on the couch. Dad fiddled with his glasses, then settled back.

I picked up Slappy and arranged him on my lap. I was feeling a little nervous. I wanted to do a good job and impress them with my new comedy act.

I’d been practicing all week, and I knew the jokes by heart. But as I slipped my hand into Slappy’s back and found the string, my stomach felt all fluttery.

I cleared my throat and began.

“This is Slappy, everyone,” I said. “Slappy, say hi to my family.”

“Hi to my family!” I made Slappy say. I made his eyes slide back and forth.

They all chuckled.

“This dummy is much better!” Mom commented.

“But it’s the same old ventriloquist,” Sara said cruelly.

I glared at her.

“Just joking! Just joking!” my sister insisted.

“I think that dummy reeks,” Jed chimed in.

“Give Amy a break,” Dad said sharply. “Go ahead, Amy.”

I cleared my throat again. It suddenly felt very dry. “Slappy and I are going to tell some knock-knock jokes,” I announced. I turned to face Slappy and made him turn his head to me. “Knock knock,” I said.

“Knock it off!” came the harsh reply.

Slappy spun around to face my Mom. “Hey—don’t break the sofa, fatso!” he rasped. “Why don’t you skip the French fries and have a salad once in a while?” “Huh?” Mom gasped in shock. “Amy—”

“Amy, that’s not funny!” Dad cried angrily.

“What’s your problem, baldy?” Slappy shouted. “Is that your head—or are you hatching an ostrich egg on your neck?” “That’s enough, Amy!” Dad cried, jumping to his feet. “Stop it—right now!” “But—but—Dad—!” I sputtered.

“Why don’t you put an extra hole in your head and use it for a bowling ball?” Slappy screamed at Dad.

“Your jokes are horrible!” Mom exclaimed. “They’re hurtful and insulting.” “It’s not funny, Amy!” Dad fumed. “It’s not funny to hurt people’s feelings.” “But, Dad—” I replied. “I didn’t say any of that! It wasn’t me! It was Slappy! Really! I wasn’t saying it! I wasn’t!” Slappy raised his head. His red-lipped grin appeared to spread. His blue eyes sparkled. “Did I mention you are all ugly?” he asked.