'So how do you feel?'
'Alive.' Crap, I can't start recycling material this early! 'I have to admit, I don't feel all that much different than I did before. I look different, obviously, but I feel about the same.'
'Really? So you're not in any pain?'
'None. And you'd think that my rot spots would itch, but they don't.'
'Let's talk about your rot spots,' said Donald, leaning forward in his chair. 'Clearly, your body has undergone quite a bit of decomposition. Is that going to continue?'
'I'm told that it isn't. They could just be saying that to keep my morale up. Nobody wants to be around a disgruntled zombie.'
'Let's talk about that word zombie. When I think zombie, I'm thinking about creatures that eat human flesh. What's the story with that?'
'Give me your hand and I'll show you.'
Donald chuckled again, but it seemed a bit forced.
'No, actually, I have no interest in eating human flesh. I think the idea is every bit as gross now as I did before. Your arm would be perfectly safe if you waved it in front of my mouth.'
'And that's very reassuring. What about the word zombie itself? Do you find it offensive?'
'Not at all. It's kind of badass.'
'As I'm sure you know, a lot of people think that you're a fraud, that you're just some guy in a Halloween mask. In fact, that's the question you were asked at your press conference right before you were shot. I saw and touched your dead body, so I know that you're the real deal, but how do you convince people watching television who think it's all a scam?'
'I'm not sure. I guess you could have a bunch of designated representatives from around the world try to yank off my face.'
'Could I host that TV special?'
'Anything for you, Donald.'
They both chuckled.
'What's next for Project Second Chance? Are they cooking up a Mrs. Corpse?'
'I'm not sure. I'd hate to lose my bachelorhood this soon.'
'Understood. So tell me, what's the best thing about being alive again?'
'Knowing that I'll get to see another sunset as soon as they let me out of the underground bunker for more than an interview. Knowing that the dew glistening on a leaf in the morning sun is within my reach. Donald, life is precious. Life is more precious than you can imagine. Life is filled with rainbows and puppies and babies and flowers and waterfalls and rivers and golden stalks of wheat and mountain ranges and corn and moonlit walks on the beach and kittens and ice cream and Valentine's Day and bubble baths and birds. Treat every moment as if it were your last.'
Stanley looked into the camera. 'Life is so very precious. Be grateful that you're on this beautiful earth. Dance. Sing. Turn off that television-not now, but around 9:00 Eastern Standard Time-and go out and live.' He wiped a tear from his eye. 'Live. If you ignore everything else I say tonight, just hear that one word: Live.'
He turned back to Donald. 'I'm sorry, I just get worked up when I think about this sweet gift that I've been given.' He looked out past the set at Brant. 'Richard Brant, my savior, I just want to say how much I deeply appreciate what you've done for me. I love you, man. Everyone in this room, everyone at home, let's give him a big round of applause, what do you say?'
Stanley began to enthusiastically applaud, as did Donald and the rest of the camera crew and onlookers. Brant looked as if he weren't sure whether to be deeply touched or deeply pissed. Veronica was obviously trying very, very, very, very hard to stifle a grin.
'Those are very inspiring words,' said Donald. 'I think your message is one that everybody should take to heart. Because let's face it, most of us who die aren't going to come back to life. Unless you believe in reincarnation, but that's a topic for a different show. Now let's talk about some of the controversies surrounding your resurrection. Obviously, there was the incident at your press conference. Let's take a look at that clip again.'
On the monitor, they showed the clip of Stanley getting shot. He still looked like a sissy.
'I guess my first question is, how's your chest?'
'They dug the bullet out, but there's still a hole.'
'Can we see it?'
'Uh, yeah. I don't see why not.' Stanley unbuttoned his shirt as one of the cameramen rolled his camera forward to get a close-up. Stanley draped his tie over his shoulder to get it out of the way and then opened his shirt, revealing the bullet hole.
'Wow,' said Donald. 'You could almost stick your finger in there.'
'I'd rather you didn't.'
The cameraman moved back and Stanley buttoned his shirt. 'Did it hurt?' Donald asked.
'It definitely stung.'
'I can imagine. This whole incident has to be disturbing for you because he's obviously not the only person who believes that you're-pardon my choice of words-an aberration that should be destroyed.'
'Well, I got that a lot from my teachers in high school, so I don't let it bother me too much.'
'But seriously, you're a corpse that was brought back from the dead. To a lot of folks that's pretty scary stuff. And a lot of people think that we've entered territory that mankind was never meant to touch. What do you say to the people who think your existence is blasphemy?'
'I invite them all to kiss my dead ass.'
Stanley froze. He and Veronica had practiced a very similar question to this, and the agreed-upon answer had not involved the kissing of any deceased ass.
'I'm just kidding, of course,' he said with a smile. 'I can understand their point of view. But blaming me is like blaming Frankenstein's monster for the actions of his creator. Which is what they did in the movie when the angry mob destroyed him, so that's a poor example. I'm just saying, I'm a regular guy who was given a second chance, and I'd have to be an ungrateful hooligan not to run with this chance. Because life is so very precious, and I know this now, and I don't think I knew it before, and if being a blasphemy is what it took for me to appreciate the beauty of life, well, then maybe the good Lord above doesn't mind a little blasphemy every now and then.'
'And with that, we're going to take a short break, but we'll be right back with more from The Amazing Mr. Corpse. Don't go away.'
As they went to commercial, Veronica and Brant walked up on stage. 'I'm sorry about the whole Frankenstein thing,' Stanley said. 'I got a little nervous.'
'No, no, that's fine,' Brant assured him. 'No harm done. You did slip near the end, but aside from that I think you're doing a marvelous job. Keep it up and I think we're in business.'
'Cool. Thanks.'
'Great job, Stanley,' said Veronica. 'I knew you could do it.'
'You thought I was going to make dick jokes the whole time, didn't you?'
'I thought you might try to squeeze in fifteen or sixteen of them, yes.'
'You should have more faith in your client. I clean up very nicely.'
'Indeed you do.'
'Great stuff,' said Donald. 'So what do you think if I try to yank off your face in the next segment?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'The idea came to me when you gave that answer about people thinking you were a fake. We could get a close-up and I could tug on your cheek or something. It wouldn't convince everybody, but it might switch over a few non-believers.'
Stanley turned to Brant. 'My skin won't actually rip off, will it?'
'Not any more than if he were to tug on my cheek.'
'So, Donald, how about you tug on Brant's cheek to see what happens?'
'Don't worry, if it feels like anything is actually coming off, I'll stop,' said Donald. 'And I'm going to wear surgical gloves, if that's okay. No offense, right?'
'No offense.'
