The silence in the living room was thick enough to choke on. Slappy sat on the couch, stiff and unmoving, his painted eyes staring straight ahead. An unsettling grin was plastered on his wooden face, a grin that promised mischief, mayhem, and maybe something far worse.

For hours, he had been like this—a silent sentinel of impending doom. You, the (insert your gender here) unfortunate enough to stumble upon the ancient incantation tucked into his suit pocket, tried not to look at him. Every glance was a jolt of ice water down your spine.

“Karru Marri Odonna Loma Molonu Karrano,” you had foolishly read, thinking it was some kind of silly joke. Now, you knew better.

The air crackled with unseen energy. You gripped the worn armchair, your knuckles white. He hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t made his demands. It was this unnerving quiet that frayed your nerves, the calm before the storm.

You had tried everything to reverse the spell. Hours of internet searches yielded nothing but Goosebumps fan theories and debunked urban legends. The local library was equally unhelpful. You were on your own, facing a wooden menace with a sadistic streak.

Suddenly, Slappy’s head tilted, the movement jerky and unnatural. A low, creaking sound emanated from his wooden throat.

“Well, well,” he rasped, his shrill, throaty rasp of a voice like nails on a chalkboard. “Aren’t you clever, bringing me back to life? Such initiative… I approve.”