Slappy- Frying Pan

My heart pounding so hard it hurt, I heard Slappy’s cackling laughter. And then the laughter cut off suddenly with a sharp cry.
Then silence.
...

I saw the dummy sprawled on the floor, not moving. “Wh-what did you do to him?” I stammered.
“Maggie used a frying pan on him,” Dad said. “Let’s just say if his head wasn’t made of wood, he’d have a terrific headache.” Dad was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down. “Hurry—get the dummy into the case.”
He held it open while Maggie and I jammed the evil thing in, folded him, and twisted him. Slappy didn’t attempt to move. He was totally out.
Dad slammed the lid shut and latched it.

- Diary of a Dummy, chapters 9 and 10