spying on your every move tell me you're unhappy with the contract.'
'Yeah, I'm not signing it. They can go fuck a monkey.'
'May I ask what the problem is?'
'It's a crap contract.'
'It's actually very fair. It allows Project Second Chance to recoup their investment while making sure that you're given a reasonable percentage of the profits. You'll be a rich man.'
'I'm glad to hear that, but we've got some serious negotiating to do.'
'The contract isn't negotiable.'
'Every contract is negotiable.'
'Not this one.'
'Aw, c'mon, they're asking me to sign my whole life away!'
'No, you signed your life away when you died. You belong to Project Second Chance, Stanley. If you sign the contract, all of us will benefit. If you don't, you'll do nothing but spend your days sitting in this room, watching television and waiting for your next injection. Do you want to be a superstar or a couch potato?'
'Will you feed me grapes while I watch TV?'
'Stanley-'
'Sorry, but I'm not signing it. These monkey-fuckers can keep me locked up all they want. I don't give a shit; I've got TiVo.'
'They're privately funded. Without being able to financially exploit your celebrity, they may not be able to afford your extremely expensive injections.'
'So, what, they'd let me ooze away?'
'Nobody would let you ooze away. What would happen is that somebody who could afford to pay would take over the project. What kind of experiments do you think the government would want to perform on you if they had the opportunity?'
'Ghastly ones, sir,' said Martin, helpfully.
'Shut up, Martin.' Stanley sighed in frustration. 'You know, Veronica, this would have been much more effective if they'd sent you in here to bat your eyes and offer me a blow job.'
'Trust me, I was much nicer than Brant would have been.'
'Well, yeah, that goes without saying.' He scowled and did his best Brant imitation. He ''If you don't sign that contract, your liver will be under a microscope by Thursday.''
'That's not a bad impression,' said Veronica.
'Thanks. It works better with a splintery stick up your ass, but I don't have one handy.'
'I could get you one.'
Stanley shook his head. 'No thanks. But I've gotta say, you're hot when you resort to blackmail.'
'It's not blackmail. It's just the facts.'
'Uh-huh. Well, here's the deal. I'll think about signing this crap contract to avoid being sliced up by government scientists. Think about it. I'll also think about that blow job.'
Veronica turned to Martin. 'Is there an upper limit to how much he's willing to embarrass himself?'
'No ma'am.'
'Actually, there is,' Stanley told her. 'But it's a few notches past bestiality, so you don't want to see it.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
'Don't I get any makeup?' Stanley asked as Veronica straightened his tie.
'Nope.'
'C'mon, why do I have to go out there looking like a rotting zombie? I know you don't have much to work with, but can't you do something?'
'Stanley, you look fine. You look exactly the way you're supposed to look. Besides, they'll be focused on the fact that you're a snappy dresser.'
Stanley was wearing a black three-piece suit. He'd half expected Veronica to insist that he walk out there in his boxers so that they could gape at his body, but the suit had been her idea.
'It's itchy.'
'You're a big boy. You can handle being itchy for a while.'
Stanley shifted nervously in his chair. 'Are you sure they aren't, like, expecting me to bite the head off a chicken or something?'
'Just relax,' Veronica told him. 'Take deep breaths. Visualize yourself standing calmly in front of the audience, answering their questions in an articulate, charming manner.'
'That sounds more like fantasizing.'
'Do it. Close your eyes and picture yourself behind that podium.'
Stanley closed his eyes. 'Wow. Now whenever I close my eyes I see rabid elephants. I bet that's not a side effect you guys were expecting.'
'Be serious. Or at least be funnier.'
Brant, wearing his white lab jacket, walked into the dressing room. 'We're ready to begin.'
They left the dressing room and proceeded to the next door in the corridor. They were no longer in the underground bunker, which, surprisingly to Stanley, was in a regular town rather than hidden out in the desert. They'd climbed up a ladder and emerged in a small warehouse that was empty except for Brant, Veronica, and Dr. Arnzin's cars. They gotten into Brant's car with its tinted windows and drove about ten blocks to the building with the press conference.
Brant, Veronica, and Stanley walked into a small area covered by a curtain. They were standing right next to a stage, but the curtain blocked Stanley's view of the audience.
'You'll do fine,' Brant told him. 'Just keep the swearing under control.'
'I'll do my gosh-darn heckin' best.'
Brant walked up on stage to a smattering of applause. He stood behind the podium and addressed the crowd.
'Ladies and gentlemen, I'm very pleased that you can be with us today for this historic event. You all saw the resurrection on live television, and now you're going to meet the scientific miracle of the past two millennia. I give you Stanley Dabernath, the Amazing Mr. Corpse!'
Veronica gave Stanley a light shove, and he walked up onto the stage.
Approximately one hundred people sat on folding chairs in the room, all of them holding notebooks or tape recorders. Several other people were in front of the stage with video cameras. CNN, CBS, FOX, NBC, ABC…hell, even MTV was here.
They were all gaping at him.
Stanley took his place behind the podium and fidgeted nervously with the microphone. 'Uhhhhh…hi.'
Virtually every hand in the place shot up at once.
Stanley coughed and cleared his throat, then pointed to an attractive young female reporter in the front row. 'Your question?'
'How are you feeling?'
Stanley's mind went completely blank. How was he feeling?
'Alive,' he finally said.
There was some light laughter from the audience. Stanley relaxed a bit. He glanced off-stage and saw Veronica giving him the thumbs-up sign.
'You,' said Stanley, pointing to another attractive female journalist a couple of rows back.
'I hate to ask such a weighty question this early in the conference, but I think everybody here wants to know: when you were dead, did you see God?'
Stanley thought for a long moment. 'I don't remember.'
'You don't remember?'
Stanley shook his head.
