The Sinister Mr. Corpse (16 page)

Behind Stanley, the elevator door dinged.
"Freeze!" shouted a voice behind him. "Put down your weapon!"

Charlie looked at Stanley. "Do you know what
my son said to me a few days ago? He said 'Daddy, don't worry, the
doctors will bring you back to life just like they did Mr.
Corpse.'"

"I said put down your weapon!" repeated the
man behind Stanley, who was hopefully packing heat. Several doors
opened and various people peeked out, but quickly pulled back as
they saw what was happening.

Charlie pulled off his baseball cap,
revealing his bald head. "And I had to look at my six-year-old and
tell him, no, the doctors aren't going to bring Daddy back. And he
promised me that they would. He looked at me with tears in his eyes
and told me that everything was going to be okay."

"Listen to me, Charlie. I feel bad for you, I
really do. But if you shoot me and I'm not a zombie, then you'll
become a murderer. Six-year-olds with murderer parents have a
shitty social life."

"He needs to know that it's a lie."

"It's not a lie. Which means that you'll look
like a jackass when I get back up. Your son won't be impressed. So
just put the gun down, let me prove my deadness, and let's be
friends, okay?"

Charlie pointed the gun away from Stanley.
Stanley's momentary sense of relief vanished as Charlie pressed the
barrel to his own head.

"Aw, Charlie, no, don't do that," Stanley
insisted. "C'mon, man, there's no reason to give up. I know that
life sucks sometimes, like it did for me after I sent those women
away, but killing yourself is not the answer. Let's go somewhere
and have a beer, just you and me, what do you say?"

"I say, see you in hell."

"Okay, wait, wait." Stanley turned around and
glanced at the two security guards who were behind him, guns
raised. "You guys leave us alone. I'll take care of this."

"We can't do that."

"Fuck off, rent-a-cops, or I'll sue this
crappy hotel!"

The security guards exchanged a concerned
look, and then simultaneously shook their heads.

"Then could you lower your guns at
least?"

After a bit of hesitation, the security
guards lowered their weapons. Stanley turned back to Charlie. "All
right, Charlie, we're going to play a game. I want you to name five
reasons that you're grateful to be alive."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Give me five reasons."

Charlie just stared at him.

"I'll give you two. You've got a son who
loves you, and you have a really snazzy baseball cap. Now all you
need is three more. Let's hear them."

"I have
nothing
!"

"Do you have a dog?"

"No."

"I'll buy you one if you put the gun
down."

Charlie's finger tightened on the
trigger.

"No, no, don't kill yourself yet! Charlie,
listen, I'll make you a deal. I don't want to get shot, but I'd
rather have you shoot me than shoot yourself. So if you promise not
to shoot yourself afterward, you can shoot me. Deal?"

"Huh?"

Stanley pulled open his shirt again. "Right
here in the chest. Let me have it."

"Are you serious?"

"Totally serious. Shoot me in the chest. It's
okay."

Charlie slowly removed the gun from his head
and pointed it at Stanley's chest. Stanley gritted his teeth,
clenched his fists, and tried to make his left eye stop
twitching.

"I..."

"You can't do it? No problem. Nobody will
think less of you. Now let's go get that--"

"I'm sorry."

Charlie pulled the trigger. The bullet
knocked Stanley off his feet. Fiery pain tore through his chest as
he struck the carpeted floor.

The security guards rushed forward as Charlie
dropped the gun. They immediately subdued him, smashing him against
the wall.

"You asshole!" Stanley shouted. "You weren't
really supposed to shoot me! That was a goodwill gesture!
Shit!"

Stanley got to his feet, rubbing his chest.
It hurt a hell of a lot worse than the last time, probably because
he'd been shot at much closer range, and he felt dizzy and sick to
his stomach.

Charlie looked over at him.
"You...you're..."

"Yeah, I'm alive, dipshit!
You know why? Because I'm a goddamn
zombie!
"

Fresh tears began to stream down Charlie's
face as the security guards wrenched his hands behind his back.
"You're a miracle!"

"No shit!" Stanley stumbled and fell back
onto the floor. He was pretty sure the bullet had shattered his
solar plexus, and he was pretty sure that wasn't a good thing.

"Don't worry, Stanley Dabernath!" Charlie
shouted. "I believe in your miracle, and I'm going to make sure the
whole world believes in you!"

Stanley's vision faded to black.

* * *

Stanley awoke in his hotel room bed.
Veronica, Martin, and Brant were there, as was Dr. Arnzin, who was
currently hovering over him and prodding him with a small metal
thingie.

"Ow," said Stanley.

"Oh, good, you're awake," said Dr. Arnzin.
"How do you feel?"

"Not delightful. What is that thing?"

"This? I use it to prod people." Dr. Arnzin
set the metal thingie aside. "So you got yourself shot again,
huh?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be fine, but there was serious bone
damage, and this one will take a while to heal. You'll have to be
off your feet for a while."

"What happened to Charlie?"

"Who?"

"Charlie. The guy who shot me."

"They took him away," said Brant. "He was a
lunatic."

"Yeah, but...yeah, he was."

"It looks like it was a rather busy night for
you. How were the two tramps you lured back here?"

Stanley glanced over at Veronica to gauge her
reaction. Was it jealousy or disgust? Looked more like disgust.

"We didn't do anything. I sent them
away."

"Really? I just assumed you were very quick
about it."

"Bite me."

Brant chuckled. "If you are able to find
women of questionable sanity who are willing to give up their
bodies, more power to you, I say. The benefits of celebrity are
quite plentiful."

"How about you go someplace else? Anyplace
else. Just someplace that isn't here."

"With pleasure. Fix him up nicely, Doctor."
Brant nodded politely and walked out of the room.

"I'm sorry," Stanley told Veronica.

"For what?"

"You know. For the girls."

Veronica seemed genuinely confused. "Why
would you apologize for that?"

"I'm...not sure."

"I can't stop you from having sex,
Stanley."

"I didn't, though. I sent them away."

"Uh-huh."

"I did!"

"Oh, I'm sure you did. I'm sure you didn't
say anything crude, sexist, adolescent, or disgusting that scared
them off."

"I didn't!"

"Uh-huh."

"Veronica, look at me! Do you think that the
kind of woman who would sleep with me is going to have problems
with a disgusting comment?"

"Then why did they leave?"

"I told you, I sent them away."

"Why would you do a silly thing like
that?"

"Because...because I realized that I didn't
love either of them, and that I couldn't be intimate with somebody
I didn't truly care for."

Veronica smacked the side of her head. "Wow!
My bullshit detector just exploded!"

"Do you think so little of me that you
believe I'd just pick up a couple of skanks in a hotel bar?"

"Stanley, honey, I adore you, but a
three-dollar hooker wouldn't surprise me. Try not to pick up any of
those, though. It's bad press."

"Those women were all over me. Right here on
this bed. They could be mounting me at this very moment, and yet I
cast them out. That's the kind of morally upright individual I
am."

Veronica winked at him. "Then why were they
in your room in the first place?"

"Conversation."

"Uh-huh. I'm gonna let Dr. Arnzin fix you up.
Get some sleep and we'll head back to the bunker first thing in the
morning."

She ruffled his hair and
left the room. Martin sat down next to the bed. "How the
hell
did you get two
girls at once?"

"I didn't. I sent them away."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"I don't know! I was in a weird mental
place!"

"But how did you do it? No offense, sir, but
you're a living corpse! I wore my best green shirt and I didn't get
diddly!"

"Maybe it's your approach. Did you actually
use the word diddly?"

"I'm going to bed. I can't believe you got
two women."

"I sent them away!"

Martin shook his head and left the room.

"I sent them away," said Stanley to Dr.
Arnzin. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Dr. Arnzin, patting
Stanley's shoulder reassuringly.

"Thank you."

"Anyway, you really should get some sleep.
Tomorrow's going to be a long day for you, what with me setting
those shattered bones and digging out another bullet."

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes."

* * *

It did.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"
Mr. Corpse Celebrates Birthday in Style
"

It was a birthday bash to remember as Mr.
Corpse celebrated his thirty-sixth birthday yesterday! (No word on
whether or not his birthday was prorated to make up for the time he
was dead!)

* * *

"Congratulations, Stanley," said Veronica.
"Our accountant tells me that you're a millionaire."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Well, let's go buy some shit!"

* * *

"
Violence Erupts In Toy Store
"

Collectors in Bridgewater, New Jersey
awaiting the 12:01 AM sale date of the official Mr. Corpse action
figure (a special limited edition of only 750,000 units), some of
whom had been waiting for up to 48 hours beforehand, were less than
happy when the promised shipment of figures did not arrive. Eight
collectors and one employee were injured in the ensuing riot.

* * *

"Here you go," said Dr. Arnzin, handing
Stanley a small plastic container. "That's one week's worth of
injections. You're sure you can handle them by yourself?"

"You've watched me do them for the past three
days. I think I can handle poking myself with a needle."

"Just don't forget them."

"I'm not going to forget them."

"Once a day."

"I know."

"Never twice."

"I promise."

* * *

"
Mr. Corpse and Mrs. Sunset A Couple?
"

RUMOR PATROL! It seems that
Mr. Corpse and Hollywood's newest A-lister, Tamara Kato, might be
an item! The Oscar-winning star of
Mrs.
Sunset
was spotted getting snuggly with Mr.
Corpse at the premiere party for the new Jennifer Aniston flick!
Reps for both insist that they're "just good friends."

* * *

"Mr. Corpse! Can I get your autograph?"

Stanley glanced over at the college kid. "Can
I finish peeing first?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course! I can't believe I'm
actually talking to you! My friends aren't gonna believe this! Are
you done?"

"Getting there."

"Sorry, I've just never met a real celebrity!
It's true what they say, I guess, about how you can't come to Los
Angeles without seeing a star. This is so cool."

"What would you like me to sign?"

"Oh, um, could you sign my arm?"

"Do you have something to write with?"

"No. Don't you?"

"No. I just came in here to take a piss."

"I'm sure my girlfriend has a pen. Wait here
and I'll go get it."

"How about I hang out someplace besides the
men's room?"

"Oh, right, of course, of course. Do you want
to meet my girlfriend? You could sign her arm, too!"

"Sure."

"Let's go." The kid pushed open the bathroom
door and gestured for Stanley to pass. "After you."

"Did you notice that you washed your hands,
but then you went ahead and touched the doorknob, which is covered
with the residue of a million unwashed hands that touched a million
unwashed dicks?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was just kidding."

"My girlfriend's sitting over there. Tracy!
Look who I met in the bathroom!"

Tracy shrieked in terror.

* * *

"
Mr. Corpse Refused Service
"

New York's legendary Baird's Deli apparently
doesn't think The Amazing Mr. Corpse is all that amazing! He was
refused service this past weekend, and though Mr. Corpse protested,
apparently he went home without getting to sample one of the
world-famous Baird Burgers!

"I was just concerned about disease," said
Roger Baird. "In our thirty-two year history we've passed every
single inspection with flying colors, and I just thought that a
dead body in the restaurant might be a health code violation. It
was nothing personal against Mr. Dabernath."

Mr. Corpse is reportedly planning to sue.

* * *

"Look, I'm still the #1 keyword search on
Google," Stanley said, proudly.

"I was looking at some of your fan sites
yesterday," said Veronica. "Maybe we should have you update your
blog twice a day from now on."

"Nah, I can't type that
fast. But take a look at this." Stanley typed in the URL for the
new site he'd discovered,
The Mr. Corpse
Fraud Exposed.
"It's a list of all the
things that prove I'm really some dork in makeup."