Free The Sinister Mr. Corpse by Jeff Strand Page B

Veronica that I threatened to keep you in
the bunker until your behavior was in line with that of a Project
Second Chance employee."
    "Y'know, that actually would've worked just
as well," Stanley remarked.
    "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."

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
     
    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