good, but he always ended up departing from the script anyway. It was as if something deep inside of him took over, making the words flow easily, spreading the gospel of The Corpse as if The Corpse himself were controlling Charlie's body.
Who was to say that The Corpse didn't have the power to possess Charlie's body and tongue?
Charlie gathered his pages and walked out into the main hall of the church. It was a small, wooden, abandoned Catholic church that had been falling apart when Charlie found it. But with the help of a group of volunteers, he'd cleaned it up, replaced Jesus with Stanley Dabernath where appropriate, and now held weekly services. The benches seated about sixty people, but he was pleased to see that several others stood against the back wall.
He walked up behind the podium as William began to play haunting chords on his electronic keyboard. Charlie gazed lovingly at his flock, adoring each of them, wishing only that his wife was there to see him in action. Sadly, she'd left him shortly after he formed the church, taking his son with her.
The music stopped. Charlie cleared his throat.
'Friends, sons and daughters, we are here to give worship to our Savior, Stanley Dabernath, The Corpse. For He returned to life to spread His gospel, to share His message of love and understanding! What is that message?'
'Life is precious!' chanted the attendees.
'And life is indeed precious! I did not always know this. No, I thought life was worthless! In fact, I thought my own life held such little value that I was ready to end it!'
Though they'd heard this story before, several people in the front rows gasped.
'That's right, and I was ready to kill our Savior! Because I didn't believe. I didn't have faith. I thought He was a charlatan. A trickster. And I took my gun, and lo, I did walk into His hotel, and lo, I did wait for our Savior to emerge. And lo, He did emerge.'
William emphasized this point with a musical sting.
'And I spoke to our Savior, and He did try to show me the way. But I was blinded by madness, and I did not listen to His message. My ears were clouded. I could think only of my cancer, of my own mortality, and in an act of shame I did shoot our Savior in the chest!'
A young woman in the front row crossed herself.
'Dammit, Tammy, I asked you not to do that in here,' said Charlie, annoyed.
'Sorry. Just a habit.'
'Knock it off. The Corpse did not die upon any cross, and to confuse Him with other saviors is blasphemy!'
Tammy's husband, Fred, raised his hand.
'What?' Charlie asked.
'I was thinkin', our Savior died from chokin' on milk, right?'
'Indeed He did. You can read all about it in the Book of the Corpse!' Charlie picked up one of the pamphlets he'd created and held it up to the crowd.
'Maybe instead of crossin' ourselves, we could do a chokin' thing. Like this.' Fred placed both hands on his neck, closed his eyes, and let his tongue loll out of his mouth.
'Are you ridiculing our Savior?' Charlie demanded, furious.
'Naw, I just thought-'
'When the time of Rebirth is upon us and the Resurrections begin, I will make sure that your festering body remains lying bloated on the dirty ground swarmed by flies! Leave this house of worship immediately!'
'Aw, c'mon-'
'Begone, infidel!'
Fred got up and sheepishly headed for the church exit, followed by Tammy. Charlie wanted to throw something at them, but all he had was the brochure and he figured that it would flutter harmlessly to the ground.
'I will not tolerate ridicule of our Savior!' Charlie announced. 'I have seen Him take a bullet fired by my own gun and stand back up to live another day. And He forgave my sin! I ask, how many of you seated in this house of worship would forgive one who struck you down with a bullet? If a deer hunter mistook you for his prey and pumped a shotgun shell into your chest, would you forgive him? You would not! But my actions were no mistake, and I did indeed intend harm upon our Savior, and He forgave me, and He helped me, and He saved me! All praise The Corpse!'
'Life is precious!' shouted the congregation.
'Again!'
'Life is precious!'
'Who's our Savior?'
'The Corpse!'
'Sing with me, people!'
Three days later, Stanley still had not returned, and Veronica was getting frantic. This definitely wasn't the kind of PR she wanted, but more importantly, she cared about him. Yeah, he was obnoxious and crude and needed a good slap every six seconds, yet underneath his obnoxious/crude/slap-needing exterior was a…well, definitely not a sweetheart, but sort of a nice guy.
She prayed that nothing had happened to him, but feared the worst. She couldn't imagine that Stanley would just take off without making some sort of effort to let her know that he was okay. And even if he did, Martin was the responsible one of the pair, and he hadn't turned up either. It wasn't like Stanley could just pop on a wig and a pair of sunglasses and fade into anonymity, and yet there had been no credible sightings.
A lot of people thought that Stanley was an abomination, and if he'd been foolish enough to wander the city unprotected…
Of course, it was all over the newspapers, radio, television, and Internet. Lots of opinions were shared; few of them were optimistic about Stanley's safe return. Brant insisted that Stanley had probably just taken some time off to think. Veronica desperately hoped that was the case, even though she'd have to kick his butt six feet into the ground when he returned if it was. But since Brant had the uncharacteristic appearance of wanting nothing more than to vomit, it was hard for Veronica to put credence in his theory.
'Where are you, Stanley?' she asked his photograph.
The photograph did not respond.
She sighed. She'd slept less than four hours in the past three days and she knew she must look like total crap. She needed to go home, pass out, and go back to being stressed out in the morning.
The phone rang, scaring the hell out of her.
'Hello? Oh, hi, honey. No, no update. Yes, I'm coming home soon. Now. That'd be great. Love you. Bye.'
She hung up, gathered up her things, and left the office.
Our Savior is missing.
Oh where could have He gone?
Our Savior is missing.
Let Him be back by dawn.
The lyrics for this new hymn sucked, but Charlie had never claimed to be a songwriter. Forming a new religion wasn't as easy as it looked. Anyway, it was a catchy tune, thanks to William.
Our Savior is missing.
Please let Him come back.
Our Savior is missing.
Our lives are now off track.
One of his flock had suggested 'Now let's go get a snack' as the final line of the second verse. The heretic
