Read Online The Sinister Mr. Corpse by Jeff Strand - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeff Strand
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seems like it would've been pretty
tough to sneak a real gun past the kind of security you would
expect to have at such an important press conference."
"Enough, Stanley."
"I'm just saying, it should have been really,
really, really difficult to get a gun in there. You had metal
detectors, right?"
"Yes."
"And you made them run their stuff through an
X-ray machine, right?"
"Stanley, I'm only going to ask you one more
time to let this drop. I'm not in the mood."
"Okay, but I'm right, aren't I? You didn't
blow all this money on bringing me back to life just to protect me
with a minimum wage security guard, did you? Oh, did you know
you've got this vein in the center of your forehead that throbs
when you get pissy?"
" Enough! "
"Yes, sir."
Veronica cleared her throat. "Well, I thought
that before the gunfire, the press conference was going pretty
smoothly."
Stanley gestured to Brant. "What you should
do now is say something like 'Really? I thought the gunfire was the
best part of the press conference.' Then we'll all have a great big
chuckle at my expense. Try it. It'll be cool."
Brant sighed. "Next time, I'm going to
re-animate everything except the corpse's mouth."
"Whoa, good one!" Stanley exclaimed. "That
was like a genuine slam! I mean, I felt an actual sting. You go,
Brant." Stanley held up his hand for a high-five but didn't receive
one. "So let's get back to me wondering aloud how I got shot."
Brant glared at him. "Stanley, do you really
think we'd be sloppy enough to just let somebody stroll into your
press conference with a gun?"
"Before the bullet penetrated my chest, I
would've thought no."
"If you would spend more time thinking about
the situation and less time randomly running off at the mouth,
you'd realize that this was an inside job. The man who shot you was
a security guard who was, in fact, dutifully employed with us. This
makes me very uncomfortable and very unhappy, because it makes me
question whether other employees of Project Second Chance are
similarly hostile to our cause. So perhaps I'm justified in being
'pissy.' And perhaps I'm more interested in trying to figure out
where my trust was misplaced than in accommodating your childish
and obnoxious behavior. Stanley Dabernath, please shut the hell
up."
Stanley shut the hell up and picked up his
sandwich. He suddenly had no appetite.
* * *
Stanley and Martin sat in the interrogation
room across from Veronica and a lawyer named Bloodsucking Bastard.
It was not really an interrogation room, nor was the lawyer's real
name "Bloodsucking Bastard," but both seemed appropriate.
"I want at least two bodyguards at every
personal appearance," said Stanley, handwriting that clause on his
copy of the contract.
"Project Second Chance will take all
reasonable precautions to ensure your safety," the lawyer
explained.
"I can see that. The contract says 'all
reasonable precautions.' I don't want it to say 'all reasonable
precautions.' I want it to say 'two big-ass bodyguards at every
personal appearance.'"
"In instances where having two bodyguards
goes beyond what Project Second Chance would consider reasonable
precautions, the bodyguards would certainly be provided upon your
request, but the financial responsibility would be yours,"
Bloodsucking Bastard explained.
"Well, duh! I could have hooker twins at
every personal appearance if I wanted to pay for it myself! You
guys should be covering this. I got shot!"
"Mr. Dabernath, I assure you that Project
Second Chance is even more concerned with your well-being than you
are."
"Then gimme the big-ass bodyguards!"
"I'll see what I can do."
"And see what you can do about getting me
some hooker twins at every personal appearance. Blondes with
heaving bosoms and 'come-hither' looks. Make sure they're identical
twins; none of that fraternal crap."
"I'll see what I can do."
"You're not even going to write that down,
are you?"
"No."
"Good for you. Because I was obviously just
being immature."
tough to sneak a real gun past the kind of security you would
expect to have at such an important press conference."
"Enough, Stanley."
"I'm just saying, it should have been really,
really, really difficult to get a gun in there. You had metal
detectors, right?"
"Yes."
"And you made them run their stuff through an
X-ray machine, right?"
"Stanley, I'm only going to ask you one more
time to let this drop. I'm not in the mood."
"Okay, but I'm right, aren't I? You didn't
blow all this money on bringing me back to life just to protect me
with a minimum wage security guard, did you? Oh, did you know
you've got this vein in the center of your forehead that throbs
when you get pissy?"
" Enough! "
"Yes, sir."
Veronica cleared her throat. "Well, I thought
that before the gunfire, the press conference was going pretty
smoothly."
Stanley gestured to Brant. "What you should
do now is say something like 'Really? I thought the gunfire was the
best part of the press conference.' Then we'll all have a great big
chuckle at my expense. Try it. It'll be cool."
Brant sighed. "Next time, I'm going to
re-animate everything except the corpse's mouth."
"Whoa, good one!" Stanley exclaimed. "That
was like a genuine slam! I mean, I felt an actual sting. You go,
Brant." Stanley held up his hand for a high-five but didn't receive
one. "So let's get back to me wondering aloud how I got shot."
Brant glared at him. "Stanley, do you really
think we'd be sloppy enough to just let somebody stroll into your
press conference with a gun?"
"Before the bullet penetrated my chest, I
would've thought no."
"If you would spend more time thinking about
the situation and less time randomly running off at the mouth,
you'd realize that this was an inside job. The man who shot you was
a security guard who was, in fact, dutifully employed with us. This
makes me very uncomfortable and very unhappy, because it makes me
question whether other employees of Project Second Chance are
similarly hostile to our cause. So perhaps I'm justified in being
'pissy.' And perhaps I'm more interested in trying to figure out
where my trust was misplaced than in accommodating your childish
and obnoxious behavior. Stanley Dabernath, please shut the hell
up."
Stanley shut the hell up and picked up his
sandwich. He suddenly had no appetite.
* * *
Stanley and Martin sat in the interrogation
room across from Veronica and a lawyer named Bloodsucking Bastard.
It was not really an interrogation room, nor was the lawyer's real
name "Bloodsucking Bastard," but both seemed appropriate.
"I want at least two bodyguards at every
personal appearance," said Stanley, handwriting that clause on his
copy of the contract.
"Project Second Chance will take all
reasonable precautions to ensure your safety," the lawyer
explained.
"I can see that. The contract says 'all
reasonable precautions.' I don't want it to say 'all reasonable
precautions.' I want it to say 'two big-ass bodyguards at every
personal appearance.'"
"In instances where having two bodyguards
goes beyond what Project Second Chance would consider reasonable
precautions, the bodyguards would certainly be provided upon your
request, but the financial responsibility would be yours,"
Bloodsucking Bastard explained.
"Well, duh! I could have hooker twins at
every personal appearance if I wanted to pay for it myself! You
guys should be covering this. I got shot!"
"Mr. Dabernath, I assure you that Project
Second Chance is even more concerned with your well-being than you
are."
"Then gimme the big-ass bodyguards!"
"I'll see what I can do."
"And see what you can do about getting me
some hooker twins at every personal appearance. Blondes with
heaving bosoms and 'come-hither' looks. Make sure they're identical
twins; none of that fraternal crap."
"I'll see what I can do."
"You're not even going to write that down,
are you?"
"No."
"Good for you. Because I was obviously just
being immature."