Read Online The Dead Man: Face of Evil by Lee Goldberg, William Rabkin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lee Goldberg, William Rabkin
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uniforms made up of white pants, patriotically red-white-and-blue-striped shirts, and caps that looked like smiling hamburgers on a plate.
The employees were required, at all times and under all circumstances, to have smiles on their faces as big and happy as the one on the Happy Burger on their heads.
That was one reason why teens who worked at Happy Burger never got laid. The other was that they were usually as greasy as the fries they served.
But the place made fantastic burgers, thick and juicy, with a big slab of melted American cheese on top.
Matt and Rachel could smell the burgers grilling from half a block away, even with the car windows rolled up. By the time they parked and walked in, their stomachs were growling so loudly that they sounded like slavering wolves.
A blond-haired teenage girl with breasts as perky and happy as her smile was waiting to take their order at the register. Her name tag read "Bubbles." Her given name was actually Lorinda Dudikoff, but when she was a toddler, she used to delight in farting in the bathtub, a pastime that both she and her parents found utterly hilarious. The Dudikoffs had more footage of those fart bubbles, and from more angles, than James Cameron had of the sinking of the Titanic . They started calling their daughter Bubbles from that moment on, and it stuck.
The truth was, she still liked to fart in the bathtub.
And to masturbate while she did it.
And to have her boyfriend watch.
And to have him masturbate, too.
But you'd never know any of that looking at her and are probably sorry that you know it now.
"Good evening," Bubbles said. “Welcome to Happy Burger. What can I get for you?"
"A big, fat, double hamburger. Greasy fries. And an extra-large chocolate shake," Rachel said, then turned to Matt, who was still scrutinizing the menu, even though he'd known it by heart since he was a child. “Have the same thing."
"That meal will kill you," he said.
"But you know you want it," she said. “Go ahead, Matt—live a little."
"Fine, make it a double," Matt said as his attention was drawn to the man standing behind Bubbles, stuffing burgers into to-go containers. The man's back was to them, but Matt recognized him. “Andy?"
His friend turned around.
Andy had the face of a decomposing corpse, yellowed teeth and bulging, bloodshot eyeballs poking through a rotting mass of dripping, maggot-infested flesh topped with a Happy Burger hat.
The smell of decay was overwhelming. It reminded Matt of the carcasses the neighborhood dog would leave under his house when he was growing up. But this wretched odor was worse than any stench that had ever seeped up from the floorboards.
"Don't be sad, don't be blue, Happy Burger has treats for you!" Andy sang, the incessant beeping of the French fryer alarm as his musical backdrop.
Matt grabbed Rachel by the arm and took a big step back from the counter.
Andy cocked his head quizzically. “What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a captain of industry before?"
Matt couldn't take his eyes off of Andy's rotting face. He knew it wasn't real, that it was just a delusion, but it was so vivid, so horrifying.
But if you don't want to be institutionalized for the rest of your second life, you'll pretend it's not there.
So Matt forced a smile that would have made Happy Burger proud and stepped back up to the counter.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. “Your new look just takes some getting used to—that's all."
But does it have to smell so bad, too?
"It was either take the job or starve to death," Andy said. “You've been dead. Did I make the right choice?"
Fat horseflies buzzed around Andy's face, laying more of their eggs in the putrid, bubbling flesh that dripped off of his exposed skull.
Andy's neck was swollen taut, and Matt could see things squirming under the skin, waiting to break through.
Time seemed to slow down, and the beeping of the French fryer got louder and harsher, making it difficult for Matt to think.
Matt glanced
The employees were required, at all times and under all circumstances, to have smiles on their faces as big and happy as the one on the Happy Burger on their heads.
That was one reason why teens who worked at Happy Burger never got laid. The other was that they were usually as greasy as the fries they served.
But the place made fantastic burgers, thick and juicy, with a big slab of melted American cheese on top.
Matt and Rachel could smell the burgers grilling from half a block away, even with the car windows rolled up. By the time they parked and walked in, their stomachs were growling so loudly that they sounded like slavering wolves.
A blond-haired teenage girl with breasts as perky and happy as her smile was waiting to take their order at the register. Her name tag read "Bubbles." Her given name was actually Lorinda Dudikoff, but when she was a toddler, she used to delight in farting in the bathtub, a pastime that both she and her parents found utterly hilarious. The Dudikoffs had more footage of those fart bubbles, and from more angles, than James Cameron had of the sinking of the Titanic . They started calling their daughter Bubbles from that moment on, and it stuck.
The truth was, she still liked to fart in the bathtub.
And to masturbate while she did it.
And to have her boyfriend watch.
And to have him masturbate, too.
But you'd never know any of that looking at her and are probably sorry that you know it now.
"Good evening," Bubbles said. “Welcome to Happy Burger. What can I get for you?"
"A big, fat, double hamburger. Greasy fries. And an extra-large chocolate shake," Rachel said, then turned to Matt, who was still scrutinizing the menu, even though he'd known it by heart since he was a child. “Have the same thing."
"That meal will kill you," he said.
"But you know you want it," she said. “Go ahead, Matt—live a little."
"Fine, make it a double," Matt said as his attention was drawn to the man standing behind Bubbles, stuffing burgers into to-go containers. The man's back was to them, but Matt recognized him. “Andy?"
His friend turned around.
Andy had the face of a decomposing corpse, yellowed teeth and bulging, bloodshot eyeballs poking through a rotting mass of dripping, maggot-infested flesh topped with a Happy Burger hat.
The smell of decay was overwhelming. It reminded Matt of the carcasses the neighborhood dog would leave under his house when he was growing up. But this wretched odor was worse than any stench that had ever seeped up from the floorboards.
"Don't be sad, don't be blue, Happy Burger has treats for you!" Andy sang, the incessant beeping of the French fryer alarm as his musical backdrop.
Matt grabbed Rachel by the arm and took a big step back from the counter.
Andy cocked his head quizzically. “What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a captain of industry before?"
Matt couldn't take his eyes off of Andy's rotting face. He knew it wasn't real, that it was just a delusion, but it was so vivid, so horrifying.
But if you don't want to be institutionalized for the rest of your second life, you'll pretend it's not there.
So Matt forced a smile that would have made Happy Burger proud and stepped back up to the counter.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. “Your new look just takes some getting used to—that's all."
But does it have to smell so bad, too?
"It was either take the job or starve to death," Andy said. “You've been dead. Did I make the right choice?"
Fat horseflies buzzed around Andy's face, laying more of their eggs in the putrid, bubbling flesh that dripped off of his exposed skull.
Andy's neck was swollen taut, and Matt could see things squirming under the skin, waiting to break through.
Time seemed to slow down, and the beeping of the French fryer got louder and harsher, making it difficult for Matt to think.
Matt glanced
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