Night of the living dummy by R.L. Stine | Page 8

Mrs. Powell scolded. "Everything isn't a competition, you know!" "I already have a job with Slappy," Lindy said with a superior sneer. "And you're just getting started. You're just a beginner." "Mr. Wood is much better-looking than Slappy," Kris said, mirroring her twin's sneer. "Mr. Wood is cool-looking. That gray suit on your dummy is the pits." "You think that ratty old shirt is cool-looking?" Lindy scoffed, making a disgusted face. "Yuck. That old dummy probably has worms!" "You have worms!" Kris exclaimed. "Your dummy won't be funny," Lindy said nastily, "because you don't have a sense of humor." "Oh, yeah?" Kris replied, tossing Mr. Wood over her shoulder. "I must have a sense of humor. I put up with you, don't I?" "Copycat! Copycat!" Lindy cried angrily. "Out of the kitchen!" Mrs. Powell ordered with an impatient shriek. "Out! Get out! You two are impossible! The dummies have better personalities than either of you!""Thanks, Mom," Kris said sarcastically. "Call me for dinner," Lindy called back. "I'm going upstairs to practice my act with Slappy for the birthday party on Saturday."It was the next afternoon, and Kris was sitting at the dressing table she shared with Lindy. Kris rummaged in the jewelry box and pulled out another string of brightly colored beads. She slipped them over her head and untangled them from the other three strands of beads she was wearing. Then she gazed at herself in the mirror, shaking her head to better see the long, dangly earrings. I love my junk jewelry collection, she thought, digging into the depths of the wooden jewelry box to see what other treasures she could pull out. Lindy had no interest in the stuff. But Kris could spend hours trying on the beads, fingering the dozens of little charms, running her fingers over the plastic bracelets, jangling the earrings. Her jewelry collection always cheered her up. She shook her head again, making the long earrings jangle. A knock on the bedroom door made her spin around. "Hey, Kris, how's it going?" Her friend Cody Matthews stepped into the room. He had straight, white-blond hair, and pale gray eyes in a slender, serious face. Cody always looked as if he were deep in thought. "You ride your bike over?" Kris asked, removing several strands of beads at once and tossing them into the jewelry box. "No. Walked," Cody replied. "Why'd you call? You just want to hang out?" "No." Kris jumped to her feet. She walked over to the chair by the window and grabbed up Mr. Wood. "I want to practice my act." Cody groaned. "I'm the guinea pig?" "No. The audience. Come on." She led him out to the bent old maple tree in the middle of her back yard. The afternoon sun was just beginning to lower itself in the clear, spring-blue sky. She raised one foot against the tree trunk and propped Mr. Wood on her knee. Cody sprawled on his back in the shade. "Tell me if this is funny," she instructed."Okay. Shoot," Cody replied, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Kris turned Mr. Wood to face her. "How are you today?" she asked him. "Pretty good. Knock wood," she made the dummy say.She waited for Cody to laugh, but he didn't. "Was that funny?" she asked. "Kinda," he replied without enthusiasm. "Keep going." "Okay." Kris lowered her head so that she was face-to-face with her dummy. "Mr. Wood," she said, "why were you standing in front of the mirror with your eyes closed?" "Well," answered the dummy in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, "I wanted to see what I look like when I'm asleep!" Kris tilted the dummy's head back and made him look as if he were laughing. "How about that joke?" she asked Cody. Cody shrugged. "Better, I guess." "Aw, you're no help!" Kris screamed angrily. She lowered her arms, and Mr. Wood crumpled onto her lap. "You're supposed to tell me if it's funny or not." "I guess not," Cody said thoughtfully. Kris groaned. "I need some good joke books," she said. "That's all. Some good joke books with some really funny jokes. Then I'd be ready to perform. Because I'm a pretty good ventriloquist, right?" "I guess," Cody replied, pulling up a handful of grass and letting the moist, green blades sift through his fingers."Well, I don't move my lips very much, do I?" Kris demanded. "Not too much," Cody allowed. "But you don't really throw your voice." "No one can throw her voice," Kris told him. "It's just an illusion. You make people think you're throwing your voice. You don't really throw it." "Oh," Cody said, pulling up another handful of grass. Kris tried out several more jokes. "What do you think?" she asked Cody. "I think I have to go home," Cody said.