Jimmy had to admit that the act had gone pretty well. Aside from a few deviations from the script where Slappy compared the ventriloquist's face to a mud pile, there had been no disasters: no trying to kick either of the birthday twins in the face when the little girls leaned in too close, no trying to bite anyone on the nose, no screaming death threats at the top of his lungs. He had not even thrown a single fat joke at the lone chubby kid. For Slappy, this was the height of etiquette.

And Jimmy was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You've been a beautiful audience," Jimmy said as he rose to his feet, and the kids clapped.

"You have a liberal definition of 'beautiful,'" Slappy cracked over the noise.

Jimmy stepped around the children and disappeared into the small workshop. Once the door was closed, he looked down at the dummy tucked under his arm. "Not bad."

Slappy formed a smug smile. "Could you doubt me?"

"In a heartbeat," Jimmy replied and promptly dumped him on the worktable.

The dummy merely snickered as he sat up and straightened his jacket, for all the world looking like a little boy enjoying his favorite board game - and Jimmy was just the top-hat token he had left in the box. The sad thing was Jimmy had gotten used to it.

Jimmy folded his arms, giving the smirking puppet a sweeping glance. It had been months since he had found the dummy - and had foolishly read aloud the words on a slip of yellowed paper in his old gray jacket, bringing the haunted toy to life. Now, he was stuck with him. Slappy was a rude, conniving little sadist, interested in whatever amused him most, but for the first few weeks, the dummy had attempted to behave - a little - since he recognized the benefits of having a business partner with his own car and bank account. For himself, Jimmy had needed a new dummy for his stage act, and the manager of the Little Theater had been so impressed with "Jimmy's" ventriloquism skills that they had gotten hired right after their audition. Then they had done their first show together - and it had all gone downhill from there.

Jimmy grimaced at the memory. It had been one thing after another with Slappy, who did not care about bills or Jimmy's professional reputation as he hijacked their act to spread misery on an unsuspecting audience - and Jimmy had finally been ready to get rid of the sociopath once and for all. However, that same day, he had received a package at the theater - a very special package, filled with aged papers in a hand just like the one that had written the ancient words in Slappy's pocket. Among them was a handy little curse meant exclusively for living dolls. Jimmy had no clue who had sent them, but at long last he had had power over the puppet, even if Slappy had been reduced to a bitter husk. So - Jimmy frowned as he surveyed his grinning roommate - where did this change of attitude come from?

"Why so glum, chum?" Slappy giggled, cutting into his thoughts. "Didn't I do the show?"

Jimmy's mouth twitched. "Yes, you did good - well, decent," he amended. "And the Zinmans won't be demanding their money back. If the curse allowed you to do the same deed twice on a cycle, that very well could have been your third one."

The wooden eyes flashed, and that insufferable grin widened. "We-e-ell, Jimbo, if we're looking at deeds, I believe you'll notice that - "

But before the dummy could finish, a knock cut him off. Slappy's jaw snapped shut, and he drooped against the wall just as the knob twisted. Jimmy turned to see both birthday girls push their way through the door, and he gave them a quick smile. "Hello," he greeted with a wave.

Mrs. Zinman had told him their names, but he could not remember which one belonged to whom. There had been an obvious effort to make it easy for people to tell them apart because one wore a ponytail and a pair of overalls while the other one had left her hair hanging over the shoulders of her fancy dress.

"Thank you for coming to our party," the girly one said shyly - was that Amanda? Or maybe it was Katie.

"My pleasure." He nudged his head toward the sitting puppet. "Right, Slappy?"

"Oh, sure, it's a pleasure," the dummy replied without moving his ligneous jaw. "Right up there with foot fungus."

The girls stepped apart, and Jimmy saw that they had been hiding the brown-haired doll that had sat with them during the show. "Mary-Ellen wanted to meet Slappy," the one with the ponytail announced with a squeaky voice.

Jimmy kept his smile in place and quickly scooped up the dummy. He tried not to wince at the red-cheeked plastic face as he stepped closer to the kids. Where in the world did they find that thing? "Hello, Mary-Ellen," Jimmy greeted the staring doll kindly. He turned to the girl with the dress. "Why, she's almost as big as you!" he pretended to gasp.

Slappy leaned forward in his arms as if to inspect the doll. "I like your face," he told her. "Reminds me of the mask I wore last Halloween."

The identical faces darkened. "Don't say that!" Ponytail squawked.

Jimmy pulled the dummy back, giving his skinny shoulder a rough shake. "Sorry, Slappy doesn't know how to talk to girls."

The dummy's head swerved around to glare at him. "Hey there, Pot. Name's Kettle. Nice to meet ya."

Jimmy opened his mouth to retort - but a strange sensation overcame him, and he staggered a little. He rubbed his temple with his free hand. All of a sudden he had the urge to sit down.

Meanwhile, the girl in the dress frowned. "You shouldn't say mean things," she scolded the dummy. "Mary-Ellen says you look nice."

"Well, at least she has good taste," Slappy joked.

Jimmy shot him a warning look - even as he tried to shake off the weird fatigue. "Slappy, be a gentleman. Can't you say something nice to Mary-Ellen?"

"Oh, sure. I can say lotsa nice things," the puppet smiled.

Jimmy waited a moment, but the dummy continued to return his gaze. "Would you?" he pressed.

"Nope!" he chirped.

However, Ponytail giggled at that - and promptly quieted at the look her sister gave her.

Jimmy adjusted his grip on the dummy. He was about to excuse himself and close the door - but the tiredness increased.

Lower Slappy.

Huh? Where did that thought come from? He shook it off and forced himself to say, "Slappy, be nice. It's their birthday."

A sweet smile appeared on his carved lips. "Well, I can say the doll's not the ugliest thing I've ever seen - that honor belongs to your sister."

Ponytail Twin snickered again, and even Dress Girl laughed.

Slappy jerked his head toward her. "See? They like me. Why can't you, Jimmy?"

"I like you as much as you deserve, Slappy." Jimmy turned back to the girls. He again opened his mouth to say good-bye and -

Lower Slappy.

Jimmy found himself leaning forward - just a smidgen. Right before he jerked again. What was he doing?

"Speaking of sisters," the dummy said, turning back to the girls, "you should bring that big sister of yours over here. I sign autographs too."

Dress Girl frowned. "Mary-Ellen doesn't think that would be a good idea."

"Who asked her?" Slappy mocked.

Lower Slappy, the thought ordered again.

Jimmy reached for the doorknob - but it was so… easy to bend his knees instead. What was the harm? The girls just wanted to see Slappy, so what was wrong with lowering the dummy just a little more -

- And suddenly he felt Slappy's elbow in his chest.

"Not so close to the freak show, nerd," the raspy voice growled. "I took a bath this morning."

That brought Jimmy back to reality with a jolt. He quickly straightened, turning the dummy from the girls - shielding them from the sociopathic puppet. "Well, I have to put Slappy away," he said, trying to keep the tightness out of his voice. "He gets cranky this time of day. Bye-bye!" He ushered them out and shut the door before the girls had a chance to protest.

Alone again, he yanked his hand out of the hollow torso and heaved the disgusting dummy onto the wooden table. "You're walking a fine line, pal."

Slappy's head hit the cement wall with a thud, but the dummy did not even seem to notice. He straightened and scooted forward until one boneless leg draped over the edge. "Oh, c'mon! You said I couldn't be rude to the kids. You said nothing about being rude to lifeless toys - or you," he tittered.

"Yeah, but that was their toy," Jimmy shot back, stepping across the bare cement floor until he stood over the small puppet. "It was obviously important to them."

Slappy shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I can't win with you - can I, Jimbo?"

"You're deflecting," Jimmy replied, folding his arms. Then again, Slappy only admitted wrongdoing when he could brag about it; otherwise, he would make it seem like it was someone else's fault. "But you did do the party - and you were good for that little girl, Jillian. For once."

The puppet gave a careless shrug. "I wouldn't call her little. Besides," he added with a snicker, "her hands are much softer than yours."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and shoved the puppet's shoulder, causing his head to smack the wall again. "Don't say stuff like that," he ordered, jabbing a finger at the grinning face. "Are you trying to get me arrested?"

"It's crossed my mind," the dummy returned cheekily. He gave Jimmy a sweet smile and gripped his checked lapels. "Well, your Dishonor, I may be a backwoods country dummy brought to life by black magic, but I would've been well within my rights to mess that young lady up for touching me. But I chose to play the puppet and kept my mouth shut so that she could give the brats a nice show."

Jimmy exhaled. "Yes, you did good," he allowed, narrowing his eyes. "So, what's your angle?"

The painted eyes glittered. "So, for those of you keeping score at home, that means I did my final good deed for the week." His red grin became shark-like. "Right, Jimmy?"

Jimmy took a step back. Slappy made no move toward him - and the young man did not give him a chance. He opened his mouth and promptly spouted out a string of ancient foreign words, keeping his eyes fixed on the dummy. He could say the incantation all in one breath now, and it was not long before it ended, and he felt the weight of the spell settling in on both of them.

Slappy did not even bat an eye. "Are you through, James?" he drawled, tapping his crossed foot against the table.

Jimmy gave the puppet a sweeping glance, mentally kicking himself. He should have noticed the change in the atmosphere when the curse lifted - but he had been too rattled both by his bloodied nose and the shock of seeing those kids messing with the dangerous puppet. "You're oddly calm," he noticed, his frown deepening.

The brown-haired dummy shrugged again. "I think this goody-two shoes stuff is rubbing off on me," he replied. "I'm not even bothered by it now. Weird, right?"

"Very weird," Jimmy replied, narrowing his eyes. "What are you up to?"

Slappy leaned back against the wall. His malleable face formed an expression that could have been called reflective. "Jimmy, how is this all going to end?" he asked. "We're not going to be together forever, so where do you see this partnership concluding?"

Jimmy gritted his teeth, clenching his hands. "Either you reform," he said tightly, "or you go to sleep forever."

The carved head tilted to the side. "No other options?"

"Nope."

The dummy shrugged. "Fine, I'm reformed."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what the joke is - "

"What else is new?" the puppet snorted.

" - But it's not funny," he said through his teeth.

Slappy shook his head. "I'm a simple dummy with simple desires, Jimmy, and one of those desires is not to die."

Jimmy straightened his broad shoulders and folded his arms, bracing himself for whatever trick the possessed puppet had up his checked sleeve - not that Slappy could kill him with the curse in effect, he reminded himself darkly. His last breath would put the dummy to sleep. But Slappy would if he could. "You're fooling no one, puppet."

The wooden eyes rolled heavenward. "Fine, then I propose a truce."

"Truce?" Jimmy repeated.

Slappy nodded, his chipped grin spreading. "I leave you, live somewhere else, but you keep the stack of papers that the toymaker left behind - all of those funny, little curses that he wrote to make sure his toys never turned on him - and you can monitor me from a distance." He crossed his arms with a satisfied expression. "And we part as the most amicable of frenemies."

Jimmy stiffened. He knew then this was definitely a trick. In what universe would Slappy ever suggest that someone else keep the spells written by his creator? The puppet craved power in a world where he had to play dead. What was his angle? "Where would you go?" he questioned.

The puppet gave a shrug. "I haven't had a whole lot of time to think about it."

Jimmy furrowed his brow. "But?"

Slappy glanced down at his fingertips as if inspecting the tiny scratches left from his previous misadventures. "But, for the sake of convenience, you can always leave me here. With clown girl."

There it was. "Here?" he repeated.

The wooden eyes lifted again, and he nodded. "Sure, do you see how that rec-room looks? I bet the rest of the house is just as good. These folks are obviously well off - at least compared to you. Then again, an outhouse is a better living arrangement than what you got, Jimbo," he leered.

Jimmy said nothing.

At his silence, the painted face slowly darkened, and Slappy leaned forward. "Look, Jim, you have all the curses ol' Popsicle wrote - you could probably cast them from the other side of town if I know my old man. You can keep hold on the leash, but the less we see of each other, the less we will want to kill each other down the road, right? Win-win."

Jimmy snorted. "And what? You'll hold this family hostage?"

The dummy threw up his tiny hands. "How am I going to do that when you just cursed me to do three good deeds without magic?" he shot back. "And how am I going to hurt the parents? The father has his own saw - who knows the state of his mental health?" he added, nodding toward the table saw in the middle of the room.

"You would find a way," Jimmy returned.

"Not while the curse is on me!" the dummy growled. "I'm powerless thanks to my dear poppa's spell - a spell you are in control of, Jimbo."

It was true that the curse kept Slappy from accessing the powers he used to ruin lives - even the supernatural strength in those skinny limbs was diminished to an extent - but what about when the three deeds were done? Jimmy looked him up and down. "Why here?"

Slappy shrugged. "Why not?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I know you. This isn't just some random thought in your head. You're scheming something - and you're not going to get whatever you're after."

The dummy exhaled despite lacking lungs. "Alright, I'll tell you, Jim." He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "I want to know what's happening to that girl."

Jimmy blinked. "You do?"

He nodded, still grinning. "I want to know what's going on in this house. After all, how much excitement do I get in my life between playing dead and hanging around your place?" he demanded. "You don't even have a radio, kiddo. But this is something else! How do peanuts get into cupcakes without anyone noticing? How do cockroaches get into a piñata? I just gotta know, Jimmy!"

The young man snorted. "Why? So, you can learn the techniques for yourself?"

Slappy gave him a half-lidded look. "I don't need to learn some cheap parlor tricks, Jimbo - I just want to know what happened. It's a genuine, bonafide mystery. You know how much I liked And Then There Were None!" he grinned.

"The book where everyone dies in the end," Jimmy returned dryly. "So, you're telling me you honestly want to help this girl out? You must really think I'm dumb."

The gleam in the painted eyes dimmed, and the puppet folded his wooden arms. "Fine, take me home then, hypocrite," he growled. "Leave that poor, sweet girl to fend for herself while I use my three good deeds to fold your socks and dust your broken television set. I guess your goody-two-shoes morals only matter when they benefit James Timothy O'James the most. And if that child dies horribly because of your inaction, I hope you don't feel too responsible, sonny jim."

Jimmy winced. Slappy had a point - and that scared him. "What could you even do, puppet?" he demanded.

Slappy chuckled. "What can I not do?"

"Evil, for one," Jimmy growled. He pointed a finger at the wooden face. "If I let you stay here - if, Slappy - you can't do any evil. I mean it."

Slappy raised a hand like a student in a classroom. "Define 'evil'."

"Anything someone like you would enjoy doing."

"Oh, that's just clever," the dummy said dryly. "That's the sort of repartee I'd expect from a guy named James O'James."

Jimmy glowered. "Slappy…"

"Comment withdrawn," the puppet said quickly.

Jimmy shook his head. He could not let himself consider this. He would just take Slappy home and forget this place. That was the safest for everyone involved.

...And yet...

...On the other hand...

...How did peanuts end up in cupcakes for a little girl with allergies?

Jimmy bit his lip, furrowing his brow. And what if something worse happened if he left the Zinman house without trying to help Jillian? Maybe everything was just a misunderstanding, and there was a natural explanation - but what if it was something more? And didn't he have all those stacks of yellowed papers? The curses the evil toy maker had written were more than effective. Slappy only knew of his father through the journal he had left behind, but the dummy had told Jimmy tales of his brothers and sisters who had failed to please their master. The magician might have been many things, but he had not been an idiot. Amidst the toys he brought to life to maim, injure, and torment his customers, he had also created several spells to make sure his merchandise never betrayed him - among them was the curse of good deeds. It stripped his evil children of their powers, forcing them to do three good acts among humans within a week lest they fall asleep forever. According to Slappy, most of them could not even get past the first one.

Now, Jimmy had access to those spells. Could he call himself a good person if he did not use them to aid a young girl in her supernatural plight? He had held off on using those incantations, beyond the three-deed curse, out of mercy for the puppet. Maybe he could extend that mercy to Jillian and now make sure Slappy got the job done.

He finally turned back to the dummy. "I'm not saying I'm gonna let you," Jimmy said slowly, "but if I do, you're going to be on the tightest lease you've ever seen. And if I come by and see any of these sisters suffering - if any of them sniffles a little - I'll put you to sleep forever."

Slappy heaved a shrug. "Fair enough."

"And that's all assuming she'll even take you," Jimmy added, shaking a finger at him. "She was a birthday clown. She might not even want a ventriloquist dummy."

A small smirk formed on the chipped mouth. "Who wouldn't want me?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Jimmy held his arms akimbo. "I'll be watching you, Slappy."

The little puppet snorted. "And you're worried about me getting you arrested?"

Harrison had to go home to help his parents get ready for company, but he hung around long enough to hand the twins their presents. "Here you go," he grinned, passing each girl a candy bar with a bow taped on.

"This is great, Harrison!" Amanda beamed.

Katie shot her a look. "You don't like Snickers."

"I like them now," she sniffed.

After Harrison left, the twins tore through the rest of their presents. They had only asked for things to give Mary-Ellen, so Mom had given the doll's dress size to the other parents when they had called to RSVP, and now Jillian watched as the twins unwrapped tiny jumpers and apron dresses and frilly skirts, coats and hats and Christmas sweaters. Aunt Sophie gave them a bunch of clothes from her doll collection, and Mom and Dad even presented a doll-sized tea set and a little table and two chairs that Dad had carved (only three months to make).

Jillian saved her presents until the end and handed Katie and Amanda two different-sized lumps which she had personally wrapped.

Amanda got her paper off first to reveal a white teddy bear with a rainbow bowtie. Her thin face broke into a sunny beam. "He's so cute!" she cried, her round eyes sparkling as she hugged it close.

"Mary-Ellen says he looks stupid," Katie sniffed.

"Well, Mary-Ellen can give you a present instead," Jillian frowned, reaching for Katie's half-unwrapped baseball bat, but her sister snatched it up and stuck out her tongue.

With all the presents opened, Mom organized the kids for a relay race, and, without Harrison around, Jillian decided to go upstairs.

She reached the quiet first floor and stepped into the kitchen, intending to get a drink - and saw Jimmy O'James with a water bottle at the table. Slappy sat in the chair next to him, a can of root beer with a bendy straw placed in front of him.

Jimmy's dark eyes flicked to her, and she felt her cheeks heat. "I'm so sorry about earlier," she said in a rush, wringing her hands. "It was stupid, and I wasn't thinking, but the girls would've been so disappointed if they didn't see Slappy - "

The young man gave a friendly laugh, cutting her off. "It's fine," Jimmy returned. "I have a younger sister too. I know what it's like to look out for them."

Jillian gave a weak smile, her skin still flushed. "How's your nose, Mr. O'James?" she asked.

"Much better," he replied with a soft sniff. The bridge had already turned a deep purple. "Your grandma helped stop the bleeding."

It took Jillian a moment to realize he was talking about Aunt Sophie. "That's good," she nodded.

He took a quick sip of water, and she saw him glance at his dummy before he turned back to her. "Slappy liked your performance earlier, Jillian," he complimented. "With enough practice, you could be really good someday."

She sighed. "Like I told you, every time I do…"

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Maybe you should try something with a little less props," he suggested. "Have you ever thought about working with puppets?"

She tried to hide her wince. "I've helped my friend put on some puppet shows before," she admitted. Usually, she handled the ones that least resembled humans. "He wants to be a puppeteer and do movies when he grows up."

Jimmy's small grin stretched. "In that case, you should try ventriloquism for your next show. All you have to do is keep an eye on your dummy. Less trouble for you."

She shrugged. "Maybe." That would not have stopped the peanuts from getting put inside the cupcakes, she thought darkly.

Jimmy got to his feet, scooping his dummy up by the collar before he stepped around the table to stand in front of her. Her heart thudded a little as she met his dark eyes - but she was drawn out of some sudden odd thoughts by what he said next: "Why don't you take Slappy? He could use a new home."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He held the wooden figure up. "I already got myself a new Slappy dummy, and I don't need the old one anymore - but I think you deserve a fresh start with your business."

She felt herself frown. "Just like that?"

He nodded. "Tis the season." He rapped upon the painted brown hair. "You won't have to worry about any magic tricks going wrong," he added.

Jillian moved her hands behind her back, stepping away. "I - I couldn't." She looked at the wooden face - with its strange grin and intense eyes - and tried not to grimace. "He's nice and all, but I... I couldn't."

Jimmy's tired eyes softened more. "You shouldn't let some weird happenstance beat you down and destroy your dream. Maybe this is what you've been waiting for." He held the little body out. "I believe in you, Jillian."

She was about to say no again, but something about his kind face made the words die in her throat - and her heartbeat increased again. "Really?" she asked, her voice softened by a sudden shyness.

Jimmy nodded.

She looked again at the dummy, and even his ugly expression seemed to have shifted into a neutral grin. He did not look like much with his nose and freckled cheeks, but he was sorta, kinda, just a tiny bit cute - from a distance anyway. And maybe she could come up with some nicer jokes for him to say.

"Alright then," she said at last.

Jimmy's beam widened, and he handed her the limp puppet. She quickly tucked the small body under her arm, facing him outward.

"I'd best be going now," the young man then said. "Tell your mother I had to run." With that Jimmy collected his bottle and soda can before he grabbed his empty leather case, and Jillian walked him to the front door.

"Merry Christmas!" she called after him and watched as he stepped carefully down the now snow-covered front walk - and stopped halfway, glancing over his shoulder. For a brief moment, his young face looked concerned, but he gave Jillian a big smile and a wink. He continued his trek right to his beat-up car and waved before he drove away.

Jillian closed the door. She could hear the sounds of the party downstairs, but here in the front hall it seemed eerily still all of a sudden. She swung the dummy around and held him out in front of her. What have I gotten myself into?

She had not been into dolls as a small child; she had only played with Barbies a handful of times, always at a friend's house. Even when she would watch Harrison's puppet shows, she would usually stop him to ask if they could finally go play outside. Now, here she was with her own dummy for her new ventriloquist act which she had not even planned for. She did not even know how to throw her voice. "This should be interesting," she murmured as she inspected the grinning face.

The dummy's eyes seemed to gleam - but that was just a trick of the light, she scolded herself. She quickly turned him to face the other way. "I'll take you upstairs now, buddy."

Finally, the parents began to arrive to pick up their kids, and Jillian and Aunt Sophie helped them track down their coats and gloves. Finally, the ocean of screaming first graders was down to a puddle, and Aunt Sophie headed home, but not before taking Jillian aside. "Katie and Amanda told me about the little show you did for them."

Jillian cringed. "They did?" The little snitches...

She braced herself, waiting for a scolding about touching other people's property, but instead Aunt Sophie tweaked her cheek, her green eyes looking approving for once. "You're a good big sister, hon. It makes your mother happy when all her girls get along."

"I try to," Jillian replied darkly. Not that her aunt cared.

Aunt Sophie shook her head. "The twins are still little, Jillian. You'll be a young woman soon enough." Her bony hand patted Jillian's thin shoulder. "I know it's tough, baby doll, but it helps your parents when you set the example for the girls and not fight back. And you're lucky," she added wistfully. "I've always wanted a brother or sister. My life might have taken a different course otherwise."

Jillian was about to ask her what she meant, but Aunt Sophie kissed her forehead and stepped out into the icy air.

Stevie Shapiro was the last guest to leave since his mother stayed to talk, but it seemed more like business than a social chat, Jillian thought. Mrs. Shapiro seemed to be in her lawyer mode, and though Jillian tried not to listen in, every so often she heard "Alice" and "peanuts" in their conversation. As such, after the Shapiros left, Jillian made sure to help her parents clean up the rec room while Katie and Amanda took Mary-Ellen to the den to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas - now that the party was over, they seemed to go back to amicable terms with all things festive. Mom popped in her album of Christmas jazz, and within the hour the work was done. Jillian ventured into the kitchen to cut herself a slice from Katie's leftover cake before she headed upstairs to her room. She planned to call a few friends from school about after-Christmas plans - and she promptly stopped in her tracks at the sight of the grinning face leaning against her window frame.

Jillian shuddered. She had actually forgotten she had that thing.

She straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore the staring puppet as she reached around him to grab the small box of lizard food. She then turned to the cute little reptile who looked up at her, almost reproachfully.

"I know it's after six," she sighed. "But your grandma and grandpa needed my help." She tried to keep Petey on a regular schedule, per the vet's orders. Petey had been sluggish the past few weeks with the cold weather and did not have the same appetite, but the docile lizard still knew when he was supposed to be fed.

Petey accepted the offerings of pet-store grub, pecking at the assortment of dried insects. Jillian stroked his leathery back between bites - and something made the hairs on her neck stand up.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Slappy's glassy, but still intense, eyes, watching her every move - no, no, not watching. His painted eyes were just facing her. Don't be a baby, she chided herself. She held up the lizard chow toward the dummy. "Want some?" she joked.

Slappy just stared, his red lips frozen in a secretive, rather slimy smile.

Jillian grimaced and promptly turned him to face the wall. Much better.

When Petey was settled, she went to the book shelf in the corner and pulled out her collection of joke books, now a little dust covered. She then sat at her desk, pulling out her notebook. "You like Weird Al, Slappy?" she asked the dummy, popping the mixtape into her cassette player.

While Weird Al sang about surgeons and rocky-road ice cream, Jillian perused dog-eared pages of knock-knock jokes and riddles. She had memorized a lot of them when she was a birthday clown, and now she jotted down the ones she thought might work well with a ventriloquist act - not that she even had a job lined up, but she might as well prepared something in case the need for one ever arose.

But it was so hard to concentrate.

Her eyes shot to the dummy - yet again. He still had his pug nose against the wall - of course, he did. So, why did she keep expecting him to turn his head toward her with that unsettling smile?

She cleared her throat. "Hey, Slappy, what do snowmen eat for lunch?" she asked the back of his head. "Icebergers."

The dummy did not reply - but for some reason she could imagine him snorting in derision.

She finally got to her feet and grabbed him, heading toward her closet. She sat him in the corner, keeping his face to the wall, and closed the door tight.

This is a bad idea, she told herself, crossing back to her joke books and stuffing them onto the shelf. After all the horrible disasters, she did not need to throw a creepy dummy in the mix. Just the sight of Slappy might make some kids cry.

Jillian took a deep breath and settled onto her bed with a Garfield comic book, trying to ignore her crawling skin. She knew it was babyish, but she had already made up her mind. She would get Jimmy's number from her parents in the morning and tell him to take his puppet back.

Around ten o'clock, her door opened without a knock, and Jillian looked up from her book to see Katie and Amanda come trotting in, already in their night clothes. Both of them smelled like they had just hopped out of the bath. Thankfully, Mary-Ellen was nowhere in sight.

"Did you like the show today?" Jillian asked, swinging her long legs over the mattress.

They both nodded with identical grins. "Mary-Ellen thought Slappy was very funny," Katie reported, bobbing on her socked heels until her hand-me-down pajamas seemed to take on a life of their own. "She got to meet him. That made her very happy."

Jillian wondered what her sisters would say if they knew Slappy was in the closet at that very moment - but she decided against telling them. She was going to give him back after all, and she did not want him to get accidentally damaged in the twins' excitement. "That's nice," she said at last.

Amanda swished her long nightgown. "Harrison says he's been trying to learn how to throw his voice," she bragged as if it were her own accomplishment. "That would be cool."

Katie stuck her finger in her mouth and silently pretended to puke behind her twin's back, but Jillian gave her a warning look. She stopped with an eyeroll.

"Well, it's harder than it looks," Jillian said at last. "You have to relearn how to use your mouth when you do ventriloquism."

Katie tilted her head, causing her ponytail to jiggle. "What do you mean?"

Jillian pointed to her own mouth. "Since you can't make a B sound without moving your lips, you have to make a D sound, but you move your tongue a different way. 'Yo ho ho, and a dottle of deer,'" she joked.

"That's weird," Katie said.

"That's cool," Amanda countered.

Jillian smiled. "What did you think of my show?"

"Mary-Ellen said it stunk," Amanda said without missing a beat.

"Well, I'd like to see Mary-Ellen do ventriloquism sometime," she frowned. Granted, Jillian had not bothered to keep her lips still, but the twins were not in a position to criticize either.

Katie just stuck out her tongue. "She said your jokes were stupid."

"Stupid like your face?"

Jillian sat up, her heart pounding. She had not said that!

Both of her sisters immediately scowled. Katie clenched her fist. "Hey!"

"I didn't - " Jillian sputtered, but she was cut off.

"Hey, yourself, horse head," came the return. It sounded like her voice - but there was a raspy sound to it, like she had a bad cough.

Amanda looked hurt. "Jillian, that's mean!"

"I-I'm not - " Jillian stammered, jumping to her feet. She whirled around, turning her back to the girls as she faced the closet.

...No way.

"Why do you have to be a big bully, Jillian?" Katie demanded behind her, stamping her foot. "You gotta apologize!"

Jillian could not tear her eyes from the closed door. She opened her mouth - but no sound came out.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the other speaker. "You know, girls," came the coughy imitation again, "if I had a face like yours, I'd send myself to the glue factory!"

"That's not funny, Jillian!" Amanda shrieked - and Jillian could hear her voice become husky, like she was about to cry.

That jerked her out of her stupefied trance, and she turned into time to see Katie grabbed her twin's hand, giving Jillian a dark look. "We're telling, jerk!" she glowered, pulling Amanda to the door.

"Guys, wait - !" she cried after them, but they shot into the hall, and their little feet pounded down the stairs, leaving her alone in a silent room.

...Or was she alone?

Jillian swallowed - and turned back toward the closet.

It took her five steps on trembling legs to reach it, and for a long moment she stood there, her heart pounding in her chest like a hammer. Finally, woodenly, she forced herself to grab the knob and yank it open.

Slappy stared back at her beneath the dangling hems of her dresses, his wide smile in place. Exactly where she had left him.

...But hadn't she put his face against the wall?

Jillian stepped back, shaking herself.

Impossible.

Ridiculous.

"This can't be happening," she murmured. This was not a Pinocchio story. Puppets needed a puppeteer. Toys did not move on their own in real life. Slappy could not have talked... could he?

No, of course not. It was stupid even to consider it.

...So, did that mean she was saying those horrible things to her little sisters without realizing it?

Of course not. Times ten.

She sucked in a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the leering face.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth, she heard Jimmy's tenor voice in her mind. Jillian shook herself. This was real life. Slappy could not have been talking. He was just wood and cloth.

Wood and cloth.

Wood and…

That's it!

She carried the dummy, his midsection draped over her arm, down the carpeted stairs. She could hear the twins tattling to Mom and Dad in the den, but she managed to creep undisturbed into the basement. She crossed the festive rec room and entered her father's workshop, turning on the overhead light - which directly illuminated the table saw.

Jillian stepped closer and laid the dummy on the table, placing his pug nose inches from the circular blade. She carefully, deliberately, lifted the safety cover. She turned to flick on the first switch on the wall before she crossed back to the table. She laid her hand on the second switch.

"Talk to me," she ordered, forcing herself to glare at the dummy instead of fleeing.

Slappy grinned back at her.

"I'll do it," she warned. "I mean it."

Slappy continued to stare. Something which looked that creepy could not have good intentions. "Have it your way." Jillian steeled herself and began to count. "One…"

Did his face darken a little?

"Two…"

Or was that just her eyes playing tricks on her?

"Two and a half… Two and three quarters…"

Slappy did not move.

Jillian jumped away and flipped off the wall switch, breathing hard. "Don't be an idiot," she chided herself, clutching her chest. It took a few moments before her legs stopped feeling like jelly. She willed herself to look at the dummy, who still smiled back at her. She exhaled and returned to his side, giving his brown head a pat. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure. No hard feelings?"

Slappy did not reply but continued to stare at her with that intense gaze - it was just as well that she was going to give him back to Jimmy in the morning. She returned the safety cover and started for the stairs. She reached to turn off the light as she passed the threshold.

"I won't hurt you."

Jillian stopped in her tracks, hand still on the switch.

Slowly - slowly - slowly… she turned...

...And just stared.

Slappy was sitting up beside the covered blade, his blue eyes fixed on hers. And his smile had morphed into a scowl.

Suddenly, the dummy burst into shrill giggles, slapping his flat stomach. "Oh, where's a mirror when you need one? You should see your face!"

Jillian staggered back, clutching the wall. "This can't be happening…" she moaned.

Slappy chuckled, folding his skinny arms. "Typical human. You see a talking dummy and assume the worse."

Her heart raced so hard it began to hurt. The room faded in and out of focus as she held onto the door frame, close to collapsing.

Slappy was talking. Slappy was talking.

"This is impossible," she whispered. She wanted to sprint upstairs and scream for her parents, but her feet would not obey her.

"I could say the same thing about you, you know," the dummy returned, shaking his head with a snicker, but she barely heard him.

Slappy was alive. A dummy was alive.

Dolls could be alive.

Through the haze, she saw him lean forward, squinting. "Hey, are you gonna faint? Because I wouldn't want you to fall forward and bust that pretty nose, soft head."

Jillian squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty. Finally, slowly, she opened them again.

The dummy was still there.

"Well, this is getting off to a good start," Slappy said, resting his wooden head against his little hand. "So, are you just going to keep staring at the pinnacle of manliness, or can we move away from all these sharp objects now, Jillian?"

What do I do? What do I do? Jillian gasped for breath. This was not a dream. This was not even a nightmare. She had a talking dummy in front of her - a real, living doll. Jimmy O'James had given her a living doll - and all the times she saw Slappy at the theater… the party...

My hand was INSIDE that thing!

"Well, Jillian?" Slappy rasped.

Her stomach felt like a rock, but Jillian forced herself to take a deep breath, painfully aware of her burning cheeks. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself off the wall. And gingerly stepped forward - but not too close. For a moment she could only stare - half expecting him to vanish, half expecting him to leap forward and grab her, but the dummy made no movement except to tilt his head, regarding her with his round eyes - his living, staring eyes.

Jillian finally found her voice. "You're really alive?" she breathed. It was the only thing she could think to say.

"No, I'm actually dead. I just like to pretend to be alive on slow days," he returned, rolling his eyes.

And just like that, a rush of memories flooded her mind - all the performances at the Little Theater she had had to sit through, zeroing her attention on Harrison's GameBoy in an effort to tune out the creepy puppet who threw insults at everyone between scornful laughs. Jillian narrowed her eyes at him, clenching her teeth. The rude little thing had made that poor boy cry!

She moved a little closer - just out of reach - and planted her hands on her hips. "You made fun of my sisters," she frowned, trying to sound sterner than she felt. "What's the big idea?"

He held up his hands, giving what he must have thought was a disarming smile. "Was just a few jokes, sweet eyes," he insisted. "I heard the way they were treating you, and I thought you'd appreciate a helping hand."

"Well, you weren't funny," she retorted. "That was just mean."

Slappy's blue eyes swept up and down as if sizing her up. "If you want to stand on moral soapboxes, let's remember that you were ready to run me through a buzzsaw, soft head."

Jillian fidgeted. "I wasn't gonna. Really," she stammered. She swallowed dryly. "Sorry?"

"A brilliant argument," the dummy said dryly. Jillian tensed as he shifted his weight, but it was just to scoot himself forward until his skinny legs dangled over the side of the table. "But I like you, Jillian. You got spunk," he said. "Not a lot of brains, though - but who's perfect?" His grin widened. "Besides me, that is."

Then, without warning Slappy pushed himself off the side, landing squarely on his black shoes - and Jillian shrank back, her heart pounding.

Slappy straightened and calmly pointed at the door behind her. "Can we get away from all these wood-cutting instruments and go sit on the couches?"

Oh. "S-Sure," she said and backed away, keeping her eyes on the dummy as he advanced after her into the rec room.

It took him awhile to walk. He locked his knees to move, and he teetered side-to-side on boneless legs until he finally reached the nearest seat, which was the couch.

I could outrun him if I need to, she told herself - at least, she hoped she could.

Slappy pulled himself up and crossed his flimsy legs, letting them dangle over the cushion. He laid his stiff hands on his lap and straightened his thin shoulders. In his neatly pressed sports jacket, he looked like a tiny gentleman calmly waiting for a social visit.

Jillian stepped carefully across the room and sat down on the arm of the recliner closest to the stairs. She pinched her arm - just to make sure - but she still seemed to be firmly set in reality. Unless she was crazy. She turned toward the grinning face and tried to keep his gaze. Thousands of questions flooded her mind, each more wild than the last, but she finally settled on one: "Where did you come from?"

"A pine tree, I believe," he replied.

It was such a ridiculously obvious joke that Jillian felt her mouth twitch into a small smile in spite of herself - though maybe that was just hysterics. She gave him another sweeping glance. "Does Mr. O'James know you're alive?"

"Well, he's the one that brought me to life, so I would have to say 'yes'," he quipped. "But, then again, the only thing lower than the temperature outside is his I.Q.," he added, nodding to the snow-covered windows.

"So, he does know," she said slowly, trying to process it. What was the ventriloquist? Dr. Frankenstein? How did anyone bring a doll to life? How was it possible? She furrowed her brow. "And he just gave you to me?"

Slappy sniffed with disdain. "That would imply he owns me," he retorted. "Let's just say, he helped me get a new living arrangement, sweet eyes."

"With me," Jillian said flatly.

His smile returned. "We like you, Jillian - really like you. Jimmy is big on helping kids, and I've lived with quite a few over the years, so today is your lucky day, darlin'."

"'Helping kids'?" she repeated, her eyes searching his creepy face. "What? Like the Care Bears?"

"Don't know what that is," Slappy replied, giving her a half-lidded look, "but it sounds stupid." It was weird enough to see lifeless eyes on regular dolls, but looking at those intense wooden orbs, knowing they could actually see her -

She averted her gaze. "Help me with what?"

"With your little problem, of course," he replied with a snort. "Try to keep up, kid."

Oh. "What can you do?" she asked, glancing again at the tiny wooden body.

"The very best I can." He leaned forward, his red grin spreading. "I don't mean 'help' in some kiddie, Harvey Boys way. I'm talking help from a professional in all things supernatural - like yours truly."

Supernatural... Jillian shook herself. "I don't need any help," she said stiffly. Who gave a living dummy to a kid - a girl - and not tell them the truth? What if she had done something embarrassing or… or... changed clothes in front of Slappy? The very thought made her face grow hot. "Mr. O'James shouldn't have just left you here," she said through her teeth.

Slappy frowned - and then he suddenly shrugged before he pushed himself off the couch. "Fine. I'll call Jimmy and tell him you're not interested," he said, heading toward the stairs. "I mean, he thought I could help you with your party problems - but if you'd rather have las cucarachas in your piñata, mi señorita, that's your business," he said, tossing his head. "Have fun decorating for the rest of your life."

Jillian grimaced. He had a point. "What can you do?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He paused in his trek and gave her a sweet smile. "Ain't it obvious?" She must have made a face because he shook his head, seeming to laugh at her. "Look, softie, all a ventriloquist act needs is two people - you and me. How hard is that to mess up?" He gripped his checked lapels, his smug smile spreading. "Plus I'm pretty funny if you haven't noticed," he added with a satisfied sniff.

"You said my sister looks like a horse," she said flatly.

"Who doesn't love a good roast?" he asked, his eyes widening with innocence. "I can't help it if low-hanging fruit is so easy to pluck." He folded his arms. "Besides, when a girl is being insulted by someone other than me, a small - very small - part of me wants to defend her honor. But only if she's cute," he added, his smile changing.

Her skin began to crawl, but Jillian resisted the urge to avert her eyes. "You made a kid cry."

Slappy's jaw twitched. "Yes, Jimmy explained to me that some children don't like to have their bad breath pointed out. I have since learned the error of my ways," he insisted, laying a hand on his chest. "That's why we don't call kids up onstage anymore since Jimmy is the only one old enough to take a joke."

I'm sure. Jillian folded her arms. "So, you were gonna help me - and not tell me you were alive?"

He gave her a half-lidded look. "You tried to run me through a buzzsaw, so fair's fair."

Good point. Jillian fidgeted with the green sleeve of her hoodie.

The dummy shook his head and swept a little ligneous hand toward his skinny torso. "Look, darlin', you see before you a handsome dummy brought to life by his creator's magic," he said. "If something more than natural is going on, wouldn't you want somebody like me helping you? Before any more darling little kids have allergic reactions?"

She bit her lip. It made a little sense. ...But she had no desire to do a ten-minute act with that thing on her lap - with her hand inside a living puppet the entire time... No, no, no. It was too creepy even to consider it. Maybe - maybe - if he was a girl dummy, it would not be so weird, but... but...

...But she needed help.

Jillian gripped her knees. Once again, she could still hear the screams of the two four-year-olds at Joslyn's party as they clawed at their burning eyes. And she could still see poor Eddie's face as the cockroaches rained down on top of him. And the look in Alice's eyes when she had realized what she had eaten…

...And the twins had alibis each and every time, and no one else was ever in the house with her besides her parents. If something supernatural was going on, maybe she needed something - or someone - just as supernatural to stop it.

She looked again at the dummy and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, her voice squeaking. "Okay. You can help. Just for a little while. Until this goes away." She could always get Jimmy's phone number and send Slappy back if he was too much of a handful. That thought made her feel better.

The dummy gave a dry chuckle, almost like a cough. "You really are smarter than I took you for, soft head."

She shot him a look and rose to her feet. She planted her hands on her hips. "But if you do this, you can't insult my family anymore," she warned.

"As if they offered much challenge," he returned, dusting his fingertips against his checked jacket.

She tried to look stern, but she settled on studying her thin hands instead. She cleared her throat. "So, uh, what now?"

A sweet smile formed. He held up his arms. "Take me upstairs, roomie?"

She fell back a step, then two, and gripped her hands behind her. "I - I'd rather not."

"And I'd rather not have your parents coming at me with sledgehammer," Slappy replied dryly. "Consider it a necessary evil, kid."

She knew he was right - but that did not make it any easier.

Just think of him as a weird teddy bear, she told herself. She had always been fine with stuffed animals; it was just the human-looking toys that put her on edge. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she bent down, slipping her arms around his skinny torso. Slappy's stiff arms wrapped around her thin shoulders. For an uncomfortable moment, she noticed how close his face was to hers -

- And then she heard the basement door open.

"Jillian, are you down there?" came Mom's no-nonsense voice. "What's this I hear about you saying your sisters look like horses?"

Jillian released the dummy and straightened. She shot her companion a dirty look and stepped toward the stairs. "I'll come back for you later," she said through her teeth, trying to ignore the sick fluttering in her chest.

Slappy just made a sound, much like a snicker.

"Hey there, Pot. Name's Kettle. Nice to meet ya." Firebrand of the MLP fandom used that joke once, and it fit Slappy so well. XD