Jeff Strand - The Sinister Mr. Corpse

"We'll never know. Do you need a few minutes to compose yourself?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Take a few minutes anyway. And Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"Sign the contract."

"Okay."

"By the way, the security guard who shot you? A religious zealot. We had to turn him over to the police because we couldn't exactly make him disappear, if you know what I mean. More people like that are out there, Stanley. Don't antagonize the ones who are keeping you safe."

"So what did he say?" asked Veronica as Stanley stepped out of Brant's office. She was a respectable distance down the corridor, but Stanley wondered if she'd been holding a glass to the soundproof door.

"He was a smidgen pissed."

"You look kind of shaken up."

"He threw me into a pit. Did you know he has a pit under his office? Giant spiders and everything."

"Be serious. What did he say?"

"I dunno, something about my attitude needing adjustment. I may turn over a new leaf. I'd hate for him to have to scold me again."

"That's it? He just talked about your attitude?"

Stanley shrugged. "He raised his voice. And he sort of implied that he wasn't going to let me out into society if I kept being my usual witty self. I guess I'll give him what he wants; I don't really care."

"Well…good, I guess."

"I'm still going to be obnoxious around you, though."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Donald Mandigan kissed the photograph of Mr. Corpse. Dear, sweet, precious, glorious Stanley Dabernath. His savior. His meal ticket.

"I wish you'd stop kissing that thing," said Missy the makeup girl, buttoning her blouse. "It's getting kind of creepy."

"You're lucky they don't have the Mr. Corpse blow-up doll," Donald informed her.

And to think I was worried about looking like an ass, he thought. The live resurrection special had been a ratings smash. It didn't top the M*A*S*H finale or Oprah's interview with Michael Jackson, but it had been stellar. And Donald himself had received good reviews, which was not something he was used to.

His career had been going reasonably well before, but now it was in another stratosphere. And in a couple of days he'd get to conduct a live, one-hour, prime-time interview with Mr. Corpse. Originally he'd protested the idea of the press conference coming first, but now he was elated that his lawyers had been unable to negotiate that in his favor. Mr. Corpse taking a bullet at that press conference made this whole story even more fantastic, and Donald's interview would set ratings records, he was sure of it.

He kissed the photograph again.

"Why don't you just tongue the stupid picture while you're at it?" asked Missy.

Donald did.

Stanley relaxed, therapy patient style, on the sofa in Veronica's small but surprisingly luxurious office. She sat in a chair next to him, a notebook on her lap.

"The most important thing is that you present yourself as grateful for his miracle," she said. "I want you to think of five reasons you're glad to be alive."

"I'd smell worse if I were dead."

"Say that in a positive way."

"I'm positive I'd smell worse if I were dead."

"What about your current scent would you consider an improvement over the way you smelled before you died?"

"Nothing."

"Think of something."

"Uhhhh…the flies are kind of cool when they disintegrate in the air next to me."

"So your scent is entertaining?"

"Maybe we should move on."

"Maybe we should."

"But you know, I could probably get one hell of a good endorsement deal for deodorant. 'Boffo Deodorant – Strong enough for a zombie, but made for a human.' You should look into that."

"We already have. You'll be wearing Degree in all of your public appearances."

"Wow. Think you can get me an endorsement gig for Trojans? 'When decay strikes where it hurts the most, strap on a Trojan and…', actually, I'm going to leave that one unfinished."

"Thank you."

"But it would be a cool endorsement."

"Well, nothing's impossible, unfortunately. But let's get back to why you're grateful to be alive. You were happy to see your parents again, right?"

"I didn't see them."

"I thought they were here."

Stanley shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "I sent them away. I didn't want them to see me like this."

"But you're going on television to let everybody in the world see you."

"It's different, okay? Can we not talk about it?"

"Of course. What about Martin? He's your best friend, right?"

"Yeah."

"So you're grateful to still get to spend time with him."

Stanley nodded. "He's a good guy. Always a lot more supportive of me than I deserve. Great fashion sense if you're really into green. He desperately needs a girlfriend."

"He doesn't have one?"

Had Veronica perked up just a bit? Nah, it had to be Stanley's imagination. "He hasn't for a while. His last girlfriend, Katie, messed him up pretty good. She cheated on him. A lot. With ugly, nasty, fat guys. If a girl cheats on you with Brad Pitt, you pretty much have to admit that you're not Brad Pitt and get over it. But when she cheats on you with these dog-men, it's a pretty big blow to the self-esteem. I tried to convince him that she just had an ugly, nasty, fat-guy fetish, but it didn't help. He's a really loyal person, so it hurt a lot."

"I can imagine."

Veronica seemed way too interested in this topic. "And he has an extremely tiny penis," Stanley added.

"Okay, once again we've moved away from the subject of you being grateful. If we don't count your smell, and I'm all in favor of that idea, you've only given me one reason. I need four more."

"I've discovered that life truly is precious."

"Have you really?"

"No, but the world doesn't need to know that."

Veronica wrote it down in her notebook. "Three more."

"Now that I'm a zombie, I've got a really hot personal assistant."

"Still three more."

"Since I don't have to breathe, I guess I could spend hours underwater."

"And why are you grateful for that?"

"I dunno, maybe I could see some neat fish or something."

"Okay, two more."

"I've discovered that life truly is precious."

"You already said that."

"I know, but I should keep on repeating it every chance I get. 'Stanley, do you want fries with your burger?' 'Yes, because life truly is precious.'"

"Then you'll just sound sarcastic. Still two more."

"When I was drowning in that milk, my last thought was that I'd never again get to see dew glistening on a leaf in the morning sun."

"What was your real last thought?"

"'I can't fucking believe I'm going to die in milk.'"

"Two more."

"Oh, c'mon. I can sell the dew thing."

Veronica considered that for a long moment. "We'll practice."

"Good."

"One more."

"I'm grateful that I can help make the world a better place."

"How?"

"By making it easier for the general public to choose a brand of deodorant."

"Don't make me poke you with this pen."

"What would be your favorite place to poke me?"

"Stanley…"

"Okay, okay. Let's see…making the world a better place…making the world a better place…making the world a better place…uh, if a loser like me could come back from the dead, there's hope for anybody to come back from the dead."

"No."

"I can talk to kids about proper pedestrian safety."

"Maybe. But keep trying."

"I can inspire people to cherish the wonder of life because I'm so grateful to be alive again."

"But you're not all that grateful."

"Yes, I am."

"I've got to be honest with you, Stanley. At this point I don't see you inspiring anything in people except for a deep concern over the post-mortem state of their genitalia."