A/N: I've sometimes played around with the idea of "What if Harrison had taken Slappy home with him instead of leaving him at Jillian's house?" (If you're only familiar with the TV version, in the book Harrison finds Slappy after Jimmy discards him and wants Jillian to ask her dad to fix him.) I decided to try a one shot even if the full story won't be written.

This is partly inspired by "Two Player Game" from the musical, Be More Chill, with Harrison taking the role of easygoing Michael comforting Jillian, the bitter Jeremy. (Does that make Slappy the SQUIP?)

"Hello, my name is Harrison Cohen, and this is my dummy, Slappy," said the large boy sitting on the brown couch.

"Hello, my name is Slappy, and this is my dummy, Harrison Cohen," chorused the puppet on his lap. The damaged wooden jaw clicked unpleasantly as Harrison's huge hand tugged on the string inside the hollow torso.

The boy pulled a face. "Whoever decided to call you guys 'dummies' had a weird sense of humor," he muttered and touched his own mouth. You couldn't say the M's in "dummy" without moving your lips. The same went for the P's in "puppet" and "Slappy." Harrison could probably substitute "toy" instead, but then his opening joke couldn't be used.

Harrison practiced a few more sounds, doing his best, before he gripped his dark hair in frustration. However, after a moment, he shrugged his bulky shoulders, smiling again. He could visit the library tomorrow and look for a book about ventriloquism.

Satisfied with his plan, Harrison patted Slappy's cracked brown hair. "We'll figure it out, dude. Don't worry," he assured his new puppet — well, his new old puppet.

Slappy had been discarded yesterday in a trash can on the side of the local theater; he had somehow gotten seriously damaged between the time Harrison had seen him on stage with his previous owner, Jimmy O'James, and the time Harrison had exited the theater through the back door. His peach face and brown hair had several cracks, and his red-and-white checkered jacket and gray slacks now sported messy wrinkles. Yet Harrison saw it as a stroke of luck to get his own dummy. While his best friend, Jillian, sometimes teased him for "playing with dolls," Harrison admired ventriloquists who could make you forget that their puppets weren't really alive. Jimmy O'James had brought Slappy to life yesterday with an abrasive personality and funny insults without moving his lips once. Harrison resolved to be ten times better than him.

"Once Mr. Zinman gets done building his coffee table, he'll fix you right up, man," hummed Harrison, adjusting Slappy's checkered bow tie. He wasn't "playing with dolls": he was practicing his improv skills, he told himself. "Jillian said that we shouldn't hold our breaths, but I'm optimistic. He can give you a whole new face."

"Maybe he can work on yours first!" Slappy replied, and Harrison tried to mimic the gravely voice Jimmy had given him. "Do you rent your mug out as a speed bump on the weekend?"

Harrison laughed at his own joke. He disturbed no one since both his parents worked on Sundays, and he had no siblings. Yet he soon quieted and looked over his broken partner.

"I hope Mom has time to fix your clothes this week," he sighed, straightening his new friend's jacket as much as he could. "I don't know how to use an iron."

Maybe he could get Slappy something casual instead. Mom had saved up his baby clothes in the attic for the younger sibling who never came along. Harrison remembered a maroon sweater the last time he hunted around up there, and with any luck it would fit his puppet.

Harrison started to stand, intending to take the dummy to the attic, but then his thick fingers brushed over one of Slappy's front pockets. Something laid nestled inside, tiny and flat.

"Oh, yeah," he grunted, withdrawing a yellowed piece of paper. "This thing." He and Jillian had looked at it yesterday, but Harrison had completely forgotten it after shoving it back inside the jacket and taking his dummy home.

"Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano," he read out loud — he didn't mean to. Normally, he would have read it in his head, but the words tumbled from his lips before he realized he had spoken. Harrison wondered if Jimmy had meant to throw the paper out with Slappy; he hadn't used it in his ventriloquist act, that's for sure.

"Were you made over in Europe?" he asked the puppet. "My mom's side of the family came from Sweden, you know."

The blue eyes stared back. The chipped mouth remained frozen in a red smile.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Harrison jumped to his feet. He propped his toy in the corner of the couch and jogged to the front hall, already knowing who to expect.

"Hey, Jillian—" he started to say, but he stopped halfway opening the door, staring at the odd sight before him.

"Don't you dare laugh, Harrison Cohen," Jillian warned, clomping into his house in a dark-violet dress trimmed with lace.

As Jillian hung up her jacket and bag, Harrison's dark eyes shot from the frilly skirt to his best friend's fair countenance, now stormy with metaphorical thunderclouds.

"Who died?" he asked.

"Very funny," she clipped, spinning away.

Harrison followed her into the living room, studying her warily. Her long black hair bounced behind her from a purple scrunchie. Matching socks, also lacy, hugged her ankles, although she wore her normal dusty green sneakers. Harrison felt the temptation to ask where she had imprisoned the real Jillian Zinman.

Jillian had been a tomboy when they were in elementary school. Some boys teased Harrison for befriending a girl, but Jillian had always felt like one of the guys. She raced bikes, played soccer, frequented skate parks, and even had a pet lizard named Petey. Over the past summer, however, she had started hanging out with more girls, and she had adopted new habits, like carrying a bag with her to use as a purse.

"So, what's with the dress?" he ventured.

"Don't ask." She marched straight to his collection of game cartridges and pulled out a fighting game, Honor Battle. (Mom allowed Harrison's cousin to pass it along to him since it had a minimum amount of blood.) She flipped on the TV and his hand-me-down console, fitted the game in the slot, and plopped on the floor near Slappy with both Harrison's controllers in hand. "Let's play."

Harrison relaxed. Now, that was his Jillian.

Slappy stared silently ahead, but his damaged jaw had lowered on its own, making him look like he was gaping at Jillian.

Harrison took his seat beside the tall girl as the intro music started. Gameplay between them could involve a lot of twisting and leaning with the occasional shoving match. After they had broken an antique vase which Harrison's gamelmormor had brought from Sweden, his mother had forbidden them from sitting on the couch when they played.

After the title screen disappeared, the character menu popped up next. Harrison selected the yellow ninja as his character while Jillian took her favorite green fighter.

"Let's go!" said a tough male sound byte.

A sudden plop sounded behind them, and both kids started, each almost messing up their first attacks.

"Oh, the dummy fell over," said Jillian, looking round.

Slappy lied on his side, grinning back at the girl.

Jillian shook her head. "I still can't believe you pulled him from the trash."

"I still can't believe Jimmy O'James would just throw him out," answered Harrison, grinning. "His loss."

Yellow ninja and green fighter punched, kicked, and jumped in a violent dance, moaning when their health bars diminished. Harrison and Jillian pressed buttons rapidly, ignoring the fighting music and anything that didn't involve offensive and defensive strategies.

"Stop touching my hair," Jillian suddenly ordered. "We agreed distracting the other player is illegal."

"We both know I'm not touching you, Jillian," replied Harrison, glaring with concentration at the screen, "so stop trying to distract me."

Jillian elbowed him, not hard, and the two fell silent except for some determined noises. The yellow ninja made a valiant effort, yet in the end, his health bar diminished to the last fraction.

"I hope you made some funeral arrangements, Harrison Cohen," Jillian crowed, "because you — are — dead!"

The green fighter dealt the finishing blow, and the yellow ninja wobbled and fell, defeated. Jillian punched the air, and Harrison pretended to boo, shaking his thumb downward.

"Such a violent girl," a shrill, raspy voice murmured, admiringly.

Harrison laughed. "That's a good Slappy voice!" He beamed at his friend; for all the things she said about ventriloquism, she really nailed the hoarse sound Jimmy had used in his performance.

"Yeah," grinned Jillian without a hint of modesty. "You should use it if you ever do your own dummy act."

"Would if I could, dude."

Jillian's green eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "You're always talking nonsense, Harrison," she scolded, which the boy took as her way of encouraging him.

Round two started, but Harrison glanced at his new dummy and then his friend, blindly mashing buttons in that brief moment.

"Maybe for the birthday party we could do a ventriloquist act instead of a clown routine," he suggested hopefully.

"No way!" returned the girl, starting up the green fighter's signature moves. "We promised Mrs. Henley a clown show—"

"You promised her," said Harrison, turning back to the screen.

"—And we're gonna deliver, unless you don't want the thirty dollars she's gonna give us."

"Why clowns?" whispered the scratchy voice.

"Because I'm gonna be one when I grow up, dumdum," answered Jillian, nudging Harrison.

A shrill snort followed. "We'll fix that in due time, little miss."

"You're hilarious," Jillian retorted.

"You sound like you're enjoying a dummy act right now," Harrison snickered, accidentally messing up the code he had been punching for his special attack.

"I hang out with you all the time, don't I?"

"Oh, haha." Harrison used a high kick, sending the green fighter back. "I don't really think I'm funny enough to be a clown," he confessed, remembering the sketch of the costume Jillian wanted her mother to make for Harrison.

"You're funny, pal," assured Jillian, leaning against him. "Funny looking."

He gave her a light nudge.

"Good one, Jillian," murmured the dummy.

"Thanks, Slappy," said the girl sweetly. The screen suddenly paused, and Jillian twisted around to raise up the puppet's arm and give him a high five.

It looked so convincing that Harrison couldn't stay annoyed, but he still made a show of rolling his eyes.

"Sure, take her side, dummy," he pretended to complain. "That's gratitude for ya."

Jillian giggled — and hit the start button again.

"No fair!" cried Harrison, reacting in a flash.

They battled in silence again, leaning against each other at times, but Harrison managed to do the most damage. Soon, the yellow ninja raised his arms in victory over his crumpled opponent.

"Cheaters never prosper," smirked Harrison, mimicking the way their first-grade teacher, Mrs. Dean, used to say it.

"Says the guy who touched my hair again," answered Jillian.

Before Harrison could call her a liar, the third round started. In minutes their draw ended in Jillian's favor. The thunderclouds on the girl's face had floated away by now, leaving behind a sunny smile. They chose their characters again and started a new match.

"Hey, are you going to the Halloween dance?" Jillian asked, sending a rain of green fire which Harrison narrowly missed.

"Don't have anyone to go with. You?"

"Not really my thing, but some girls at school were talking about us doing group costumes, like going as the Spice Girls or Sailor Moon characters."

"Oh." Harrison mashed the buttons, causing his large thumbs to hurt. It always felt weird when Jillian started talking about the girls she hung out with — almost like she was slowly being assimilated into an alien society. Or a cult.

"Are you gonna do that then?" he asked.

"Don't know," she admitted. "The dance the elementary school had last year was pretty lame, but a middle-school dance might be better. Or it might not."

"We did pretty well at the freeze-dance competition," grinned Harrison. Mrs. Michaels, the dance chaperone, had to call it a draw because Harrison and Jillian were the last fifth graders standing and took too long to be disqualified. "Although we both know I woulda won."

"In your dreams, buddy." The green character sent another kick, which caused the yellow ninja to groan.

"As long as I can still go trick-or-treating, I'm good," decided Harrison.

"The dance is the night before Halloween, so you should."

"Do you like anybody enough for a date?" asked that shrill voice.

Harrison's finger slipped off the button at a critical moment, causing his fighter to stand instead of duck.

"Gross," grunted Jillian, and the green fighter sent a volley of kicks. "If you're gonna talk about mushy stuff, I'm leaving, dude."

Harrison grimaced, but he refused to let Jillian see any other discomfort at her weird joke.

"Maybe you could kiss a frog to get a date," he said.

"I prefer reptiles over amphibians."

Harrison snorted into his controller. That was enough for him to forgive her. He grinned at Jillian.

"Hey, would you want to go as friends and be a duo, like Salt and Pepper?"

"Too cliche. How about a Ghostbuster and the Marshmallow Man?"

"Depends on who's the Marshmallow Man," replied Harrison, already suspicious of the answer. "Luke and Leia?"

"You could be Harrison Ford and dress up as Indiana Solo," laughed Jillian.

"How about a puppet?" suggested that gravelly voice.

"There's an idea, 'Slappy,'" agreed the girl. (How did she do it with a straight face?) "Harrison could be a dummy. I could be the ventriloquist and—"

"And I sit on your lap and pretend to let you speak for me?" Harrison interrupted. "Forget it, Jillian."

She giggled. "Well, I'm not sitting on your lap, bucko," she said with mock dignity.

"You could take me, Jillian," whispered Slappy.

Harrison burst out laughing. "Okay, I'd pay you my half of the clown money if you did one dance with Slappy."

"Don't you mean 'funny money'?" grinned Jillian. Harrison could practically see the dollar signs in her green eyes.

"You're on a roll today, dude."

However, her face changed, and the mirth disappeared like air from a balloon.

"Except I still have to check to make sure my parents don't need me to babysit the rotten twins and their stupid doll the night of the dance," she growled. She returned her attention to the controller, and she jammed the buttons like they were Whack-a-Mole. Harrison did his best to elude the volley of assault, but the yellow ninja at last fell.

"What did they do this time?" he asked as the next round loaded.

"Look," she snarled, pausing the game to sweep her arm over her lacy purple dress.

"They glued the fabric to your skin?" he guessed.

"Worse." She growled through her teeth. "I decided to get back at them for being jerks at dinner, so I snuck downstairs last night to tie their shoelaces together—"

"Shoelaces?"

"You know how good I am at tying knots!" Jillian defended, scowling at him. "Anyway, while I was taking a shower this morning, the little terrors decided to get back at me by taking all my jeans, pants, and shorts. They dumped them into a trash bag and poured bleach on them — bleach, Harrison!"

"Oh, wow."

"And that's why I have to wear this stupid dress my nana got me last month. It was either that or wear my night shirt all day."

Harrison considered asking if it was the one with the clown on front, just as a way of lightening her mood, but the rage on her face made him think better of it.

"So," she continued, "Mom's out trying to find some dye to fix my clothes so that we don't have to buy a whole new wardrobe. At least Mom locked their doll in the basement closet this time."

Harrison gave her a sympathetic look. "Only seven years until college, Jill."

"Feels like forever."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Revenge," came her prompt answer. "If I could only find the perfect idea." She pointed to her controller, this time signaling before she resumed the game. "Maybe I could throw their doll right into the garbage truck on trash day before anyone notices."

"Or give her away to another kid," mused Harrison, sending a lightning strike at Jillian's character.

"Keep thinking. Maybe we could take her apart and mail the pieces to different places."

"Or hold the doll for ransom."

"My parents would say that's going too far," answered Jillian.

Harrison looked at her, about to ask how ransom would be worse than dismantling her sisters' beloved toy, when Slappy's raspy voice whispered, "Try sponge cake."

"Huh?" Jillian blinked, not turning her head from the TV.

"Put frosting on sponges and make it look like a cake," replied the dummy. "Delicious."

"Not a bad idea, pal," Jillian murmured.

Envy pricked at Harrison. Jillian's lips didn't move a fraction on the P or M sounds.

"Slappy" continued, "Or use a zip tie on the toilet-paper roll if you got one. Or put a scary picture under the toilet lid to give them a fun surprise."

Jillian burst into giggles, unable to dodge Harrison's attack, but Harrison guffawed too hard to do any damage. The two characters bounced in place for several moments to the music while both kids struggled to get a hold of themselves.

Harrison recovered first and smirked at his friend. "Looks like you just needed a dummy for some brainstorming." The next time Jillian teased him about playing with dolls, he would have suitable ammo.

"Yeah, 'Slappy' has a few good ideas," grinned Jillian, giving Harrison an appreciative look. "I'm glad I got you both on my side."

He beamed back. Even though he couldn't claim any credit for her ideas, seeing his friend cheer herself up using his dummy made him feel like he wouldn't be losing her to weird girl habits after all.

"Let's get some paper and write it down before we forget it," he suggested.

They jumped to their feet, abandoning their match, and thundered up the stairs to Harrison's bedroom to grab his school supplies.

Aside from the repetitive notes of the music, silence settled over the living room, leading the little dummy to believe no one else was in the house. Slappy rolled onto his back and stared up at the new ceiling, grinning wide.

Jillian. Her name was Jillian.

Slappy snickered softly, enjoying the delicious irony. Jimmy O'James had made a chivalrous effort to stop Slappy and his cruelty from claiming the pretty girl who had stumbled into their dressing room. The fool had somehow managed to put Slappy back to sleep and — according to that boy, Harrison — had thrown his body into the trash. Yet here the puppet laid, now with a new slave who played video games with Slappy's lovely Jillian.

Slappy rubbed his wooden fingers together, remembering the touch of her shiny black hair and her soft hand. He had never thought he'd encounter perfection outside of a mirror, but a dummy like him deserved the best girl on the planet — a lady as gorgeous and as vengeful as an angel freshly exiled from heaven.

Now, how to take advantage of this situation?

Slappy clicked his jaw, weighing his choices. She clearly did not live in this house, so did he find a way to get to her home? Or did he lock the doors and hold her here?

I might only have one chance at this, he told himself. Despite his good looks, Slappy could not deny that being a three-foot puppet lent poorly to a quiet kidnapping. If Jillian had brought her backpack, he could hitch a ride to her house when she left. Or wait until nightfall and threaten Harrison into taking him to Jillian. Maybe he could hang low here and learn what he could before making his move — but what if that took too long?

The puppet tapped his black shoe against the brown arm of the couch. Ideally, if Slappy could not use direct force, he would spin a skillful web which his little insect would cheerfully fly into. Yet did he have the resources for a scheme that big?

As he continued to frown at the ceiling, listening for the returning footsteps, Jimmy's scolding voice arose in his mind. 'You could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, dummy."

Slappy scoffed between his wooden teeth. At least he wouldn't have to hear namby-pamby platitudes from that self-righteous twerp anymore…

A light bulb flicked on inside Slappy's head so quickly, he sat up and clapped his hands.

"Worth a try. Worth a try," he murmured with a dark chuckle. "Thank you, Jimbo."

He turned his head in a slow 360 degree turn, taking in his surroundings. He noted the family photos which involved Harrison — and no brothers or sisters. That could be useful to his strategy.

Footsteps clattered down the stairs, and Slappy dropped onto the seat cushion, smiling vapidly at the television and bobbing fighters.

If he played his hand correctly, he might have a pleasant Halloween indeed.

THE END

A/N: Yeah, I didn't want to write out a full book, but I did want to try out this one scene. If you spot typos I missed, please PM them to me. :)

One of my favorite moments from Jillian in the book is when she suggests that Harrison dress up as a dummy for their birthday gig, so I wanted to give that a nod here. I also like her "funny looking" joke from the book since it's close to Slappy's sense of humor.