Its eyes were sewn on like buttons—one fixed straight ahead with a cold, blank stare, the other dangling on a loose thread. Its fur was mangled and matted. And even still in the box, it was covered in cobwebs.
Something about the strange toy appealed to Stanley. It was so different from his kid sister’s annoying stuffed animals, with their treacly songs and their adorable remarks whenever you squeezed their tummies.
“Check this out,” Stanley said, showing Miranda. “I think I might buy it.”
“Purrr-fect,” mewled a voice. It was Mrs. Imavitch. She must’ve been standing behind them all along—how could they not have noticed her? “Zat is a most remarkable toy.”
“Y-yeah, it’s, uh, pretty freaky. . . .” Stanley said, a little rattled by her popping up out of nowhere. “I bet everyone at school would think it’s cool.”
“Ah, yes, that could cause qvuite a sensation,” the Widow said mysteriously. “It might give your schoolmates a bit of excitement some of zem vould never forget—and some vould never remember. . . .”
“Huh?” Stanley asked. She was starting to creep him out a little. “W-what do you mean?”
“My dear, zat is no ordinary toy,” the Widow started to explain. “It’s—”
But then, noticing Mr. Rumpelfink eavesdropping on them from behind a rack of black and off-black robes, she paused mid-sentence.
“. . . full of surprises,” the Widow said at last, with a very speaking look. Then she whispered, “Just be sure to read zee instructionz.”
“Vait here,” the Widow added, then disappeared in the direction of her house.
“Boy, no wonder people think she’s weird,” Miranda said. “What do you think that was all about?”
“I don’t know,” Stanley said, suddenly having second thoughts about his new toy. “Do you think maybe it’s cursed or something?”
Miranda just rolled her eyes.
“Stanley, for the hundredth time, there’s no such thing as curses and witches and all that silly voodoo stuff,” she said, flinging the pincushion back onto the table.
A minute later, Mrs. Imavitch returned with a bag of leftover Halloween candy—taffy, the kind no one liked, wrapped in waxed paper covered with silhouettes of vampire bats and witches on broomsticks.
Stanley tried to politely turn down the wretched candy, but the Widow kept pressing it on him.
“Take it,” she urged, with more strange looks. “You never know vhen it might come in handy. I never get any trick-or-treaters at my place anyvay,” the Widow added. “I guess kids today just aren’t into Halloween like zey vere in my day.”
Stanley took the taffy and paid for Zombiekins. By now he just wanted to get out of there. But even as he was leaving with Miranda, the Widow called after him one last time, “Don’t forget to read zee instructionz!”
3
BUT OF COURSE STANLEY NEVER DID READ THE instructions. He took Zombiekins out of its box and threw the packaging in a trashcan before he reached the end of the block. But he kept the taffy in his knapsack because he was afraid to offend the Widow by throwing it out. Miranda said he was crazy to think she’d ever know, but there was something mysterious about the Widow, and Stanley was not the kind of boy who liked taking chances.
Stanley walked up the lane to his house wondering, what was so special about his new toy. What had the Widow been trying to tell him?
The sound of the front door opening brought Stanley’s dog Fetch barking from the far end of the house. Fetch came bounding around the corner to meet Stanley with his tail wagging his whole body like a rubber noodle.
But when Fetch saw what Stanley was holding he skidded to a halt, knocking a potted geranium off an end table. His tail drooped between his legs. He started yelping and backpedaling wildly, knocking over the end table, then disappeared back around the corner as quickly as he’d come.
“Some watchdog,” Stanley chuckled.
“Stanley, dear,” his mother called from the kitchen, “can you check on your sister?”
Stanley found his two-year-old sister Rosalie in the TV room. She was dressed in her princess costume and busy building a wobbly castle out of the good china, a pair of crystal vases, her mother’s wedding dress, open paint cans, sharp objects, broken glass, a box marked FIREWORKS, and miscellaneous electrical hazards.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Stanley called back reassuringly. “She’s in here.”
“Hi, Stanley,” Baby Rosalie said. “What you got? I see it?”