Jeff Strand - The Sinister Mr. Corpse

"Yeah, but you don't actually do anything with it. It's not like you're out there teaching science or performing resurrections on your own."

"I was in a rap video!"

"It was stunt casting."

"I'm writing a book!"

"Your ghost writer is writing a book."

"I have more Twitter followers than 'Weird Al' Yankovic! I'm always a trending topic!"

"So?"

"I did a beer commercial yesterday!"

"That's not an accomplishment. You're just cashing in on your fame. You don't even like that brand of beer."

Stanley set the magazines down on the counter. "Did you just come over here to harass me?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I've been thinking about this. I think you're wasting the gift."

"I'm a goddamn millionaire! I'm one of the most famous people in the world! How am I wasting the gift?"

"I just think that perhaps we should do something of lasting value, instead of simply exploiting your resurrection."

"Are you kidding me? Do you remember where we were before I died?"

"Of course."

"We were living in a run-down trailer, running a sleazy movie distribution business that didn't make a dime. We sucked. I cried every single day. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, but I heard you through the door," Martin said. "You were kind of loud."

"We had nothing going for us! We even talked about distributing porn! Is that what you want me to do? Do you want me to become a porn actor?"

"God, no."

"So what the hell do you want?"

"I don't know, exactly. But I think you're squandering the gift, and I think if you continue this track you'll be washed up before you know it."

"Martin, there's no such thing as a has-been zombie!"

"There will be, if you keep this up."

Stanley couldn't believe what he was hearing. "All I'm doing is what Project Second Chance tells me to do. I'm their freakin' puppet. You know that."

"You don't have to be."

"Actually, I do. They sort of keep me alive."

"I'm not saying to run away from them. But there are things you could do on your own. I've been thinking about this idea. You're going to live forever, right?"

"In theory, maybe."

"That means that a hundred years from now, you'll still be around and everybody currently walking around will be dead."

"Except for a few babies."

"Right. You should be wandering the land, meeting people, gathering stories. You would be the only person who knows what it was really like to live in the 21st century. You could be a source of unparalleled wisdom and experience."

"What the fuck?"

"Think of how much knowledge you could gather."

Stanley plopped down on his sofa. "That's what the Internet is for! Do you really think I'm going to wander the countryside like a vagabond? What kind of drunken hippie bullshit are you babbling about?"

"I just think you should do something important. It doesn't necessarily have to be the unparalleled wisdom thing."

"What's this all about, Martin? Are you jealous? Is that it? You wish it was you who got flattened by that milk truck?"

"No, but as your friend-"

"My leech."

Martin froze. "What do you mean, your leech?"

"You're leeching off my success. You have been from the beginning."

"I was your employee when you were Stanley Dabernath, and now I'm your employee when you're Mr. Corpse. How is that leeching? I work for you!"

"Then if you work for me, don't try to throw a guilt trip on me! I don't have to put up with this kind of crap from you. I'm the Amazing Mr. Corpse!"

"I thought you hated that name."

"Yeah, well, I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend! I'm just trying to keep you from becoming a flavor of the month!"

"Flavor of the month? Fuck you!"

"Fuck you back!"

"Fuck you sideways!"

"Fuck you forward!"

"I don't even know what the fuck that means! You're fired! Get the fuck out of my apartment, fucker!"

"I'm fucking leaving!"

"Then go! And you say 'fuck' like a sissy!"

"Fuck you!"

"See?"

Martin turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Stanley had never seen him lose his temper. Jealousy affected people in strange ways.

What a jerk. How dare he tell Stanley that he was wasting the gift? Famous for being famous. Yeah, right. He was the first human being ever brought back to life by scientific means. Famous for being famous. Jesus Christ.

Martin could go get a job at McDonald's for all he cared. Let's see how worthless he thought Stanley's life was when he was flipping burgers for a living.

Jerk.

He slammed himself down into the chair in front of his computer. Martin Vines didn't have six billion websites devoted to him, now did he? Jealous bastard.

Stanley had plenty of friends now, and he didn't need to hang around with some dopey-looking green-wearing weenie.

He played around on the Internet for a few minutes, visiting new sites where he could learn new information about himself.

He read a short article.

Read it again.

Then slammed his fist against the desk hard enough to rattle the monitor. "Son of a bitch!"

Project Second Chance had set up a small New York City office, about a twenty minute drive from Stanley's apartment. He called his bodyguards, Brett and Thomas, and they met him down in the lobby and accompanied him in his limousine.

"Is it true?" Stanley demanded, bursting into Brant's office.

Brant looked up from some paperwork. "Are you going to provide a definition of 'it,' or do I have to run down a list of things that might potentially be true?"

"Is it true that you're making another Mr. Corpse?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"I read it online."

"The same site that said you were an alien?"

"It was on a legitimate site. It said that Project Second Chance is planning to resurrect somebody else."

"That's not such a bad idea. Perhaps we could create a bride for you. That would be romantic, wouldn't it?"

"Is it true?"

"You look upset. What's the matter, Stanley? Worried about competition? Worried that if there's another zombie running around, you won't be so special?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm under no obligation to answer your questions."

"Tell me, damn it!"

Brant smiled. "No, we are not planning to resurrect anybody else in the near future. Rest assured that the conditions surrounding your return to life were difficult enough to recreate that you'll be a unique zombie for quite some time."

"Okay. Thanks."

"You seem to have a rather selfish attitude. Don't you want to share your miracle with others?"

"I'm leaving now."

"Oh, don't leave. You just arrived. Is that all I am to you anymore? Somebody to yell at when you're feeling paranoid?"

"Sorry about the misunderstanding, okay?"

"I don't think you are sorry. You burst into my office like you own the place. I hope you're not getting too big for your britches again."

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be."

"I'm not. You're the one who brought me back to life, but I'm the one who keeps the money flowing. If you got rid of me, you'd have nothing. Nobody gives a shit about Project Second Chance; they care about The Amazing Mr. Corpse."

"Is that so?"

Stanley nodded. "And you know it. You can threaten me with your Wonder Dart all you want, but I know you'll never use it. And you'll never withhold injections from me. So you, Brant, can kiss my dead ass."

"Getting a bit of an attitude, are we?"

"I'm a scientific marvel. I'm what you have to show for your life's work. So, yeah, I think I'm entitled to a bit of an attitude."

"Scientific marvel." Brant chuckled. "Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Seriously, what's that supposed to mean?"