repeat the clip of him screaming in his
underwear. He was (mostly) witty without being sarcastic (often),
and managed to convey a (partially simulated) grateful tone.
"So you wouldn't mind if I tugged on your
face, would you?" asked Donald, slipping on the surgical
gloves.
"Of course not. I'd welcome it."
Donald stepped over to Stanley's chair and
knelt down next to him. "I have to say, if this is a makeup job,
it's the best makeup job in the world. There is not a seam to be
found. And you can see how close up our high-def camera is getting.
I also would like to assure the viewing audience at home that there
is no post-production tampering going on here. We are indeed
broadcasting live, and to prove it I can share that the Cowboys
just went into their third quarter with a 14-6 lead." Donald
hesitated. "Hopefully none of you were recording the game to watch
later. If so, you have my apologies."
Donald poked Stanley's cheek, somewhat harder
than Stanley would have liked. "I know that you at home can't feel
what I'm feeling, but you can at least see that this is not rubber
or foam latex. And watch when I tug on his skin." Donald pinched
his cheek and yanked on it. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is genuine
flesh."
"You can stop now," said Stanley.
"Can I squeeze your nose?"
"Uh, no."
"Stanley, I'm trying to prove that you are
truly what you say you are."
"Can I squeeze your nose?"
Donald blinked. "Certainly," he said,
uncertainly.
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
underwear. He was (mostly) witty without being sarcastic (often),
and managed to convey a (partially simulated) grateful tone.
"So you wouldn't mind if I tugged on your
face, would you?" asked Donald, slipping on the surgical
gloves.
"Of course not. I'd welcome it."
Donald stepped over to Stanley's chair and
knelt down next to him. "I have to say, if this is a makeup job,
it's the best makeup job in the world. There is not a seam to be
found. And you can see how close up our high-def camera is getting.
I also would like to assure the viewing audience at home that there
is no post-production tampering going on here. We are indeed
broadcasting live, and to prove it I can share that the Cowboys
just went into their third quarter with a 14-6 lead." Donald
hesitated. "Hopefully none of you were recording the game to watch
later. If so, you have my apologies."
Donald poked Stanley's cheek, somewhat harder
than Stanley would have liked. "I know that you at home can't feel
what I'm feeling, but you can at least see that this is not rubber
or foam latex. And watch when I tug on his skin." Donald pinched
his cheek and yanked on it. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is genuine
flesh."
"You can stop now," said Stanley.
"Can I squeeze your nose?"
"Uh, no."
"Stanley, I'm trying to prove that you are
truly what you say you are."
"Can I squeeze your nose?"
Donald blinked. "Certainly," he said,
uncertainly.
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
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