Slappy- Sandwich

Slowly I moved my hand up inside the dummy’s back. Through the neck. And into his head.
I stopped and let out a startled cry as my hand hit something soft.
Something soft and warm.
His brain!
...

“Ohhh.” I uttered a sick moan and jerked my hand out as fast as I could. I could still feel the soft, warm mush on my fingers.
“Amy—what’s wrong?” Dad cried.
“His—his brains—!” I choked out, feeling my stomach lurch.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Dad grabbed the dummy from my hands. He turned it over and reached into the back.
I covered my mouth with both hands and watched him reach into the head. His eyes widened in surprise.
He struggled with something. Then pulled his hand out.
“Yuck!” I groaned. “What’s that!”
Dad stared down at the mushy, green and purple and brown object in his hand. “Looks like someone left a sandwich in there!” he exclaimed.
Dad’s whole face twisted in disgust. “It’s all moldy and rotten. Must have been in there for months!”

- Night of the Living Dummy II, chapters 4 and 5