by Jeff Strand
Stanley reached over and squeezed Donald's nose between his thumb and index finger. Donald did the same to what little existed of Stanley's nose. They squeezed each other's noses for a long moment and then released their grip.
"And that's going to be on the front page of every newspaper in the country tomorrow," said Donald.
Stanley nodded. "Some guy on the Internet has already made the t-shirts."
* * *
The rest of the interview continued without any pinching or squeezing. Though there were a couple of other slip-ups and lame answers, Stanley had to say that it had been a darn good hour of television.
"I've really enjoyed talking to you and hearing your fascinating story," said Donald, shaking Stanley's hand as the bad music swelled. He turned to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've met The Amazing Mr. Corpse. He's not a shambling, flesh-eating beast like you'd expect, but rather a kind-hearted human being who has learned that life truly is worth living. Can't we all take a page from Stanley Dabernath's book and appreciate the gifts around us just a little bit more? I'm Donald Mandigan. Good night."
* * *
"That was wonderful!" said Veronica, giving Stanley a big hug. "You did great!"
"Thanks."
"It was quite acceptable," said Brant, extending his hand. "I'm very pleased."
Stanley wasn't keen on the idea of breaking his hug with Veronica in order to shake Brant's hand, but he did so anyway. "Thanks. Do you think people will like me?"
"We'll find out."
"Guess what?" Veronica asked. "Tomorrow's your big day."
"I thought today was my big day."
"Nope. Tomorrow."
"What happens tomorrow? Mandigan and I quit the nose foreplay and just go at it like wild animals?"
"Tomorrow, Stanley, you get to head out and speak to your adoring public in person!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I thought he was kinda funny. I wasn't expecting that from a dead guy, y'know? I mean, I wouldn't want him hanging around my restaurant or anything, but he seems like a nice guy."
* * *
"The corpse man came off pretty well, all things considered. I don't know; I still think it's probably a hoax. With those computer effects you can pretty much do anything you want."
* * *
"They don't need to be showing that kind of scary-ass shit on TV when my kids are still up. That zombie motherfucker would keep my ass up all night, so what kind of nightmares you think my kids had? They oughta be ashamed."
* * *
"In a world where overpopulation is a constant problem, we have no business bringing the dead back to life!"
* * *
"My son already wants to be Mr. Corpse for Halloween. I keep telling him, Halloween is a long way away, but he just gets so excited!"
* * *
"Mr. Corpse is hot. I don't know if he's got diseases and all that, but if he got himself tested, I'd do him."
* * *
"What a load of crap. I mean, what a load of crap. Do they think we're stupid? Is that what they think? Do they think we're all a bunch of stupid idiots who'll buy their load of crap? I saw that same actor last week on a CSI repeat. They need to fire Donald Maninnen, and they need to burn that stupid-looking mask. My kid could make a better mask than that. What a load of crap."
* * *
"What bothers me is that people can't see what's going on here. You don't think the government funded this project? Guy back from the dead? Hell-oooo, killing machine, anyone?"
* * *
"I can't even begin to speculate on the impact of this miraculous breakthrough in science. A world where everybody is immortal. It's just...it's almost too much for me to think about. It's staggering. A world without death. Holy shit."
* * *
"I like him! I know I shouldn't, because he's a monster, but I can't help it. I like him. He just seems like a cool guy, somebody you'd want to hang out and have a few beers with on Saturday night. I'll tell you what, Mr. Corpse, if you're into poker, stop by my place. We've got the beer. You bring the potato chips."
* * *
"I would just like to say that it's not really our business to question what has happened either way, and that we should support our leaders and scientists and not be always second-guessing them. And I think that maybe if we did that we could live better. That's all I wanted to say. Thank you."
* * *
"Dude, where's the Mr. Corpse video game? That'd be sweet!"
* * *
"God is looking down upon us, and God is crying. This is all against God's will, and there's going to be judgment. People are going to burn in hell for this. I am terrified that maybe this is the act that causes God to decide to do a clean sweep and start over. A lot of people will be answering for their actions. This could be judgment day. This could be Armageddon."
* * *
"I've gotta say, I just feel sorry for the poor guy. Why couldn't they leave him dead? He looked so peaceful. Now he's deformed and kind of gory and I just wouldn't want to live like that. How can he have a normal life? Why would they do that to somebody? He didn't ask to come back. They should've left him alone. Nobody should have to go through that."
* * *
"I didn't actually watch the interview, but we're having a Going Out of Business sale here at Walt's Furniture and everything must go! Save thirty, forty, even fifty percent on all items in our store! Our doors close on Sunday, so don't miss out!"
* * *
"I think it's ghoulish. Sick people doing sick things to entertain other sick people. Disgusting."
* * *
"My question is, why Stanley Dabernath? If we have the power to bring the dead back to life, why not start with Einstein? Why not Shakespeare? Abraham Lincoln? It seems to me that you're low-balling the whole miracle by wasting it on some sleazy film distributor living in a trailer park. Even if you argue that there's not enough left of Lincoln to resurrect--which there probably isn't, I'll admit--there have to be other people who died recently who are much more worthy subjects. Why not a brilliant musician, or a physicist, or an inventor, or even a social worker who volunteers all of her time to help people? Why bring this loser back? What's he going to contribute to the world?"
* * *
"My uncle, he was into this cryogenics stuff. He was always like 'They're gonna freeze my body when I die and bring me back to life in a thousand years and I'll get to see the future!' And we were all like, yeah, right. It wasn't even gonna be his whole body, just his head. And we're all laughing at him and he's getting all pissed off and he runs out the door and he gets smushed by a pizza delivery truck. Not even enough left of his head to freeze. Sucked to be him."
* * *
"If you discover a way to bring my mother-in-law back, please, I'm begging you, don't! Ha ha, I'm just kidding, honey."
* * *
"I'm already sick of hearing about him. Mr. Corpse this, Mr. Corpse that, blah, blah, blah. He's so overrated. I'll bet you anything he runs for office. That's just what we need; a zombie in the white house. Oooh, let me get right to those voting booths now!"
* * *
"It's witchcraft. Science can't bring dead people back to life so that they retain their memories, their personalities. How is he talking? How is he moving? There's something unholy going on here."
* * *
"Mr. Corpse is a homo."
"No, you're a homo."
"No, you're a homo."
"You thought Mr. Corpse had a nice butt."
"Oh, that's just wrong!"
"You did! I saw you checking out his butt on TV!"
"He was sitting down the whole time, homo!"
* * *
"I'm not necessarily against the whole idea of what they've done, but I wonder if they tested for all possible side effects. I hope they keep him on a leash when he's out in public."
* * *
"The whole thing makes me miss my wife Megan. She passed away on the same day that Stanley
Dabernath did, and I'd give anything to have her back. A lot of people are going to ridicule Stanley for the way he looks, but I bet there are plenty of people who love him, no matter what. I'd want Megan back. Unconditionally."
* * *
"They're just exploiting it. Why does this thing have to be dumbed-down for the masses? Why aren't we hearing about the science involved instead of watching him act like a guest on Letterman? Where's the NOVA special? Why does everything have to be about the entertainment value?"
* * *
"Mr. Corpse is a freak, man! Did you see his ugly skull-lookin' face? Nasty. He's like Frankenstein. I've got nothing against the guy personally, but it's just not a face I need to be looking at. Yecch."
* * *
"What I want to know is, if he had kids, would they come out alive or dead?"
* * *
"The Amazing Mr. Corpse makes him sound like a circus act. I expected him to start juggling or spinning plates. I know that Stanley Dabernath isn't really a good name for a zombie, but they've got to do better. Or else he's got to start juggling or spinning plates. I'd pay to see that, to be perfectly honest..."
* * *
"I thought it was a great interview, but dead guys should not wear blue."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Oh, come on!"
"You don't like it?" asked Veronica, tilting the poster as if viewing it at a slightly different angle might improve Stanley's opinion of it.
The glossy poster featured the words "APPEARING TODAY: THE AMAZING MR. CORPSE" in large orange letters. The rest of the poster was an artist's rendition of Stanley wearing a three-piece suit, a top hat, and holding a cane. Stanley didn't object to the attire.
"I'm a skeleton!" he said.
"Well, yeah. It's not meant to be an actual picture of you. But it's eye-catching, isn't it?"
"Very eye-catching. But I'm a skeleton!"
"Why is that a problem?"
"Because that's not what I look like. Yeah, I've got splotches of decay all over my body, and the skin on my face is kinda stretched out so that it looks skeletal." He tapped on the poster. "But this is a skeleton! This is just bones! I'm not just bones!"
"It's symbolic."
"It's symbolic of a skeleton! And I'm not a skeleton!"
"Stanley, I can understand what you're saying, and I didn't personally design the poster. But they felt the image would be less disturbing this way."
"Oh, so now I'm disturbing?"
Veronica let out a frustrated sigh. "I apologize. You've made enough obnoxious comments about it that I thought you were realistic about the effect your appearance might have on people. I didn't realize that I needed to tiptoe around the subject."
Stanley took the poster and looked at it more closely. Maybe Veronica was right. He'd been pretty outspoken about being unattractive/grotesque, and bones were a better selling point than rot. He supposed it wasn't much different than a celebrity's photo being airbrushed to remove wrinkles and a saggy ass.
"All right," he said, reluctantly. "If I have to be a skeleton, I'll be a skeleton. But no jokes about snapping my wishbone, or 'You'd better get something to eat because I can see your ribs,' or 'Hey, Stanley, what's the hip bone connected to?' or anything like that."
"I promise."
"However, you can make all the boner jokes you want."
"I probably won't do that very often."
"Well, if you think of any, the offer stands." He looked at the poster again. "Wow, I have good bone structure."
* * *
"These are going to be quick appearances," Veronica explained. "Basically just hit-and-runs. You'll wave to people from your limo, do a bunch of rapid-fire interviews, sign a bunch of autographs...just get to know the public."
"I get a limo?"
"Yep."
"With a Blu-Ray player?"
"I think so. DVD at least."
"Sweet."
"Tomorrow night you're going to be the guest of honor at Creeping Hemlock, a Goth club. You can dance, right?"
"I can twitch and spasm."
"Good enough."
"Is it safe for me to be doing public appearances like this? I hate to quit going back to the 'I got shot' thing, but..."
"Believe me, there'll be plenty of security." She smiled. "And anyway, you're impervious to bullets, remember?"
"Hey, I was pervious to that last one! It may not have killed me but it hurt like hell!"
"You'll be fine. You're the Amazing Mr. Corpse!"
* * *
Stanley stood out in the desert, adoring the feel of the hot sun against his face. He hadn't realized how confined he'd felt inside the bunker until now. Climbing out of the trap door, leaping into a limo, and driving a few blocks wasn't making him any less stir crazy. Though a little breeze would've been nice, he'd be satisfied with the fresh air.
He inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled. Sure, no oxygen was being delivered, but it still felt good. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and just let nature work its magic.
"Warm weather kind of guy, huh?" Veronica asked.
Stanley didn't open his eyes. "I spent weeks in a freezer. I've got a lot of catching up to do."
They stood there for a while. Stanley smiled as an almost imperceptible breeze blew across his skin.
"We should have a picnic," he said.
"I'll add that to the itinerary."
He opened his eyes. "I'm feeling good today. Not Snoopy Dance of Joy good, but pretty darn good. And not giddy or giggly, but, y'know, good. Well, maybe a little giggly."
Brant and Martin walked over to join them. "Are you ready to go?" Brant asked.
"There went my gigglyness," Stanley told Veronica. "Yep, let's get this freak show on the road." He tapped on the side of the limousine. "I call shotgun."
* * *
Brant was lost in some paperwork and thus wasn't being a complete prick. Martin read a comic book with a slug on the cover. The driver, John, had seemed like a nice enough guy but he'd prepared a playlist of zombie-related music that got old pretty quick. Veronica wrote in a notebook. Stanley watched Veronica.
He was developing a serious crush on her, one that went beyond simple thoughts regarding the quality of her buttocks. She wasn't just gorgeous; she was intelligent, funny, and both able and willing to put Stanley in his place. If he'd had somebody like her in his life before, he would never have ended up living in a trailer park crying into a crusty pillow on a daily basis.
Too bad he was a monster.
She seemed like somebody who could get past the whole "physically repulsive" element, but still, he knew that he'd never dare to make a move. Shameless flirting and crude comments were fine. A genuine admission of his feelings was not. He couldn't put her in the position of having to admit that dating a corpse wasn't really her thing. That would be more than a little socially awkward.
Veronica probably had a boyfriend. Maybe even a husband. She didn't like to talk about her personal life. Hell, for all he knew, she kept a harem in her basement.
Beauty and the Beast.
Hottie and the Zombie.
Never gonna happen.
"What?" Veronica asked as she noticed that he was staring at her.
"Booger."
She wiped at her nose. "Did I get it?"
"No, now it's crawling on your cheek."
"You need a hobby."
"I have a hobby. I just need a better one."
Veronica tore a piece of paper out of her notebook and handed it to him, along with a pen. "I want you to write down the names of all fifty states and their capitals by the time we reach Santa Fe. That's about two hours. No asking for help."
"Will you flash me if I get them all?"
"Yes."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. If you get all fifty states and their capitals without asking for help by the time we get to Santa Fe, I will flash you for three seconds."
"Wow, let out your inner floozy! You've got a deal."
* * *
"Slow down the limo!" Stanley cried. "I'm almost there! Park at that Dairy Queen or something!"
"How many states do you have?" asked Martin.
"Forty-nine. I think I'm missing one of the states with East or West in the name!"
"Let me see," said Veronica, taking the paper from him. "East Mississippi is not a state."
