Damn plot bunnies! It means I have about ten stories going on at the same time! I reread two of the "Night Of The Living Dummy" books and then I went on here and found plenty of fanfiction centered around Slappy. Notice that even though Slappy tells whoever owns him is now his slave and begins to address them in that way, he never tells them to do anything? Yeah, I thought that was weird. But why should everyone who owns a dummy be outgoing and fierce, so that they'll win eventually? Roxanne Martela isn't. She's fourteen and shy. This story is about her. So read and REVIEW! Oh, and of course, I don't own Slappy or anything else from R.L Stine's books. And I don't own Grease, either. (My description of Slappy may seem a little inaccurate, but just call it artistic license.)
"Roxanne! It's time to leave for the show!" called Roxanne's mom. The fourteen-year-old girl sighed. She didn't want to be in the teens' talent show, but her parents always tried to push her forward. She had a nice singing voice, but she froze up in front of crowds. As if that wasn't enough, her mom had even chosen a song from Grease where she needed to show off and act, although it wasn't very long. She finished tying her last plait into place and went downstairs in her pink jacket and punky clothes.
"It's a good costume, if I do say so myself, since I put it together." her mother said.
"I look so out of place." Roxanne muttered. Her mom heard.
"No you don't. You're a perfect Rizzo." she said, as the two went out to the car. Roxanne's dad wasn't home, and hardly ever was. It was her mom that got her into those things.
It wasn't just the talent show itself. It was the fact that she was made to sing "Look At Me, I"m Sandra Dee", not a good song for her. It would've been halfway better if she could've sung "Goodbye To Sandra Dee", but as it was, she was fourth onstage and singing the former.
When they got backstage, Roxanne was already becoming stage-shy. It didn't help that a few girls from her grade were participating as well. But the moment arrived, and Roxanne tried her best to confidently stride onstage and up to the microphone. The music played, and then Roxanne made her first mistake. The microphone amplified her voice, but not her expression. The whole audience could tell she was singing quietly, even though her lines were bouncy and mocking. "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee," she sang, "Lousy with vir-gin-it-y,
Won't go to bed till I'm legally wed,
I can't, I'm Sandra Dee..."
It got worse. When Roxanne got to the bit when she was talk-singing, she forgot the words. "I don't drink, or swear, I don't...my hair, I get ill from one cigarette.
Keep...um..." Her next line was 'keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers, but she forgot it, and it was bad enough forgetting what she didn't do to her hair, which was 'I don't rat my hair'.
"Roxanne, you need to get over this block about performing!" her mother said on the way home. "I was so humiliated with you acting like you were the real Sandra Dee – or Sandy, anyway. I thought my hard effort into making you look like Rizzo might inspire you, at least."
"I'm sorry." was all Roxanne said out loud, but if she'd been brave enough, she would've argued "If you'd let me sing Goodbye To Sandra Dee or just not entered me in the show from the start, you would've been spared it."
"I don't know why this isn't working, but it can't continue!" Roxanne's mom continued. "I'm going to have to try something else."
It took only a few days for that 'something else'. Roxanne got home from school on Tuesday. Her mother greeted her brightly. "Hi, Roxy! How was your day? Guess what I've got?"
Roxanne became apprehensive. She was a little worried about her mother's crazy ideas. "What is it, Mom?" she asked.
Her mother held out a box. "Ta-da! Go on, open it!"
Roxanne obeyed, and gave a start when she saw what was inside the box. A smirking doll looked up at her blankly, with blank but sparkling aquamarine eyes. The colour was so its eyes sometimes seemed blue, sometimes green.
"It's a ventriloquist doll!" her mother explained. "I thought this might encourage you to perform! It was a real bargain, too."
Roxanne inspected the doll. He had dark painted hair, and his smirk was almost frightening. He wore a formal black suit with a red bow tie. She tried out the string that made his mouth move. "What did you say my name was?" she made it say, trying not to let her mouth move.
Her mother laughed. "Pretty good, Roxy. You could do something good with that. I think the shopkeeper said he was called Slappy."
Roxanne took the doll into her room, and for once, she felt like this might actually change her. After all, it seemed like ventriloquism was a fun thing to do. She just had to overcome her tendency to be stage-shy. She looked at Slappy again, and felt a little creeped out by his face. Still, there was no doubt that his eyes were lifeless. That made her feel a little better.
That was when she noticed the paper sticking out of one of Slappy's pockets. "Huh?" she exclaimed, getting it out. She frowned, and turned the paper over. Nothing. She turned it back, and squinted at the words. Roxanne had always been poor at languages.
"Kar-ru..." Roxanne muttered out loud. "Mar-ri...o-don-na...lo-ma...mo-lo-nu...kar-ra-no. What the hell does that mean?" She laughed suddenly, looking at Slappy. "Huh, Slappy? You know that language, right?" Roxanne was still laughing. Her ten golden blonde plaits trembled.
Suddenly, the girl stopped laughing and looked closely at Slappy, frowning. "I could swear he just blinked at me." she muttered. "Weird." She set the doll down on her bed and looked at him again, this time staring straight at his eyes. She frowned again. Each time she'd looked at his eyes before, she'd felt calmed, knowing he couldn't possibly be alive, therefore not scary at all. But now there was a sparkle in the eyes that made her feel uneasy.
"I'm just being silly." she told herself. "Aren't I, Slappy?" she asked the doll again. She didn't wait for long, getting up and leaving her room. But as she walked out before leaving him, she could have sworn that Slappy winked at her.
I'm not planning to have my story stay as slow as it was. Slappy will talk to her. But I want it to happen gradually, like it did in the books. Well, Roxy read the spell, so he will talk to her soon, but I'm planning on some more soon. REVIEW, please! Slappy wants you to. And I suggest everyone does what Slappy says.