The Sinister Mr. Corpse
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"Will have even the biggest stiffs laughing all the way to the grave." -- Rue Morgue
Sometimes they rise from the grave, hungering for human flesh…
Sometimes they’re created by a mad scientist intent on forming an unstoppable army of the undead…
Sometimes the zombie plague is transmitted by a horrific virus…
…and sometimes, they’re resurrected in front of millions of viewers as part of a live primetime television special.
This novel is the tale of Stanley Dabernath, zombie. A regular guy who dies, is brought back to life as a ghastly walking cadaver, and becomes the international sensation hailed by the press as The Amazing Mr. Corpse. Fame! Wealth! Groupies! Despite his ghoulish appearance, Stanley finds himself living the dream.
But in many ways, it’s harder to be a celebrity than a zombie. The suits behind Project Second Chance want to tell him how to behave in public. It’s difficult to enjoy a simple restaurant meal in peace. There’s constant pressure coming at him from all sides--not to mention that many people consider him a vile blasphemy that should be erased from existence.
And does Project Second Chance have Stanley’s best interests in mind, or is the real reason behind his reanimation something much more...sinister?
“Those expecting the typical apocalyptic world full of flesh eating corpses will quickly realize they are in for a different treat altogether. For those familiar with Mr. Strand’s popular Andrew Mayhem novels, take the witty banter, sharp one liners and laugh out loud moments, then turn it up a notch or three.” -- Horror World
"But think of the babies!" Stanley shouted to her. She laughed and waved her sign at the camera crew. Finally, what seemed like hours later, the crowd thinned out and Stanley ducked back down into the limo. His legs were sore from standing for so long but he was feeling great. "People love me!" he said, plopping down into the comfy seat. "Of course they do," said Veronica. "You're the Amazing Mr. Corpse." "But I thought our culture worshipped youth and beauty." "That's for female
refrigerator I hear all these voices saying 'Help me! It's cold in here! It's cold in here! And the pickle relish is trying to eat us!' The pickle relish wasn't really trying to eat anybody, but that's the kind of thing you might hear when you're under the influence of marijuana." Several of the kids giggled and were shushed by their teacher. "I'm scared to go near the refrigerator and get the cat, so I just walk back over to the couch and sit down. And I'm there for, like, three hours. I
The man looked to be in his fifties. He wore brown slacks and a white dress shirt that was drenched with sweat. He was pale, had no eyebrows, and wore a baseball cap. The gun, pointed at Stanley, shook in his trembling hand. He stood right next to the door, close enough that Stanley could reach out and touch the gun's barrel should he be so inclined (which he wasn't). "Hey, whoa, let's be cool," said Stanley, holding up his arms in what he desperately hoped was a "Look, I'm unarmed and have no
pretty damn impressive (the kid knew how to use a can of spray paint) but Stanley wondered if he should mug an old lady to make the night complete. He wandered around the city for the rest of the night, searching for dastardly deeds in the process of being committed, but found none. But he cleaned up some litter, which made him feel better. * * * "Hello?" "Howdy." "Stanley!" Brant actually sounded happy to hear him. "Where have you been?" "Oh, you know, making the world a better
for an elaborate practical joke to convince you that you'd been deceased." "And that's supposed to be a less plausible explanation than that I'm a re-animated zombie?" "Here, watch yourself rot." Brant flipped through the next few pictures, which showed Stanley on the same table, his body decomposing more and more with each photo. "Having fun, you sick fuck?" asked Stanley, feeling like he was about to vomit. Could he still vomit? "This isn't about having fun. I'm proving a point." "This