"And we're back with Frank and Freddy's Morning Zoo! Wow, how about that incident with Mr. Corpse, huh?"
"That was just plain wacky!"
"What did they say, five people dead? Over a hundred injured?"
"A hundred and sixteen, I think."
"Wow. That's a pretty impressive injury count. For those of you at home who've been too drunk to follow the story, apparently a crowd of people who'd formed some sort of cult around Mr. Corpse became convinced that eating his flesh would give them eternal life!"
"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"
"Heh heh heh, cuckoo is right, Frank. Police are still investigating, but word is that people in the crowd started trying to eat each other!"
"Mmmmmmmmmm! Yummy!"
"I've gotta say, if I were going to eat somebody, it sure wouldn't be Mr. Corpse."
"I agree with you there. I bet he's all gamey."
"So who would you eat?"
"Oh, I can think of about ten people off the top of my head. Cheerleaders, mostly."
"Heh heh heh. Anyway, Mr. Corpse is alive, as far as we know, but a lot of him is digesting in the bellies of some very disturbed citizens. I wonder how pissed off they'll be when they develop stomach cancer or something and realize that they don't have eternal life?"
"I bet Mr. Corpse will get hit with a lot of lawsuits."
"It could happen!"
"So, listeners, who would you eat if you had the chance? Give us a call!"
Three days after the unfortunate events, Stanley lay in bed, hurting. Many of his wounds had healed already. Others, like his missing thumb, were permanent disfigurations. A couple of the bites had gone all the way to the bone, and those didn't seem to be healing right.
The girl in the lab, Marcia Dunlan, was going to live. The FBI had a million questions and was conducting an in-depth investigation. They'd thus far been unable to tie any murders to the pool of gook on the lab floor. Stanley had cooperated without actually mentioning that he knew anything about a potential black magic connection. Let them analyze the funky symbols on the wall for themselves.
Dr. Arnzin had fled. Nobody knew where he was. Stanley still sort of liked the guy, and hoped that he was doing okay. Not great, but okay. Reasonably happy, yet not enjoying his meals as much as he should.
Stanley had three injections left. He felt a bit sick to his stomach using them, knowing how they were created, but it also didn't make sense to let them go to waste.
And he had one last big favor to ask Veronica, after he made a very important phone call.
"Mom?"
"Stanley?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"Oh, so now you're calling? I'm finally good enough for you to talk to? Should I have a parade? What, did you decide to pay for the booze you snuck out of our house? Do you know that your father and I flew all the way to New Mexico to see you? New Mexico isn't close to Florida. Two connections, and your father hates to fly. Do you know that we were worried sick? Do you know what I've seen on the news? Do you hate us? Is that it?"
"It's not like that, Mom."
"Then what's it like? Tell me so I can become educated!"
"I was embarrassed to have you see me."
"Ohhhhhh, you were embarrassed! You know what a son should be embarrassed about? A son should be embarrassed not to call his parents! That's embarrassment! Breaks my heart. Do you know how much your father cried at your funeral? Do you?"
"Mom, my cell phone minutes are just about out…"
"He cried the entire time! Like a baby! Never a dry eye!"
"My reception is cutting out, too…"
"Your father's in the den. I could tell him that you're on the phone, but the shock would kill him. You want to kill your father? Is that why you called?"
"Gotta go. Talk to you later!"
Hawaii.
Stanley, Veronica, and Martin stood at the edge of the volcano. The lava did not look comfy. But Stanley didn't want to just melt away, he wanted to go out with style, and he thought that this seemed like an appropriate way to sacrifice himself. Getting to the edge of a volcano was not an easy task, but fortunately he had a shitload of money and no future to spend it on.
Veronica wiped a tear from her eye. "You're sure you want to do this?"
"Not really, no. Maybe we should skip this and go to a luau."
"I'm up for that."
Stanley gazed into the mouth of the volcano. "That lava does look hot. But that's good. It should sizzle me all at once."
Martin sniffled.
"Are you crying?" Stanley asked. "I thought you promised me that there wouldn't be any crying."
"I promised you no such thing."
They hugged, and Martin burst into tears. Stanley had difficulty extricating himself from his best friend's arms.
"Admit it," Stanley said to Veronica. "You'll never have another client as interesting as me."
"That's a pretty safe bet."
"Are you gonna show me your tits before I jump in there?"
"No."
"That's just wrong. I'm about to make the ultimate sacrifice. If you were going to leap into a volcano I'd whip out my dick."
"How about a hug instead?"
"Yeah, that works."
They held each other tightly, and Stanley fought to resist the urge to start crying himself. He only had to use humor as a defense mechanism for a couple more minutes.
"I want you to make me a promise," he said, glancing at Martin over Veronica's shoulder. "I want you two to shamelessly milk my fame for everything its worth. I'm dying young, so that'll boost the marketing value. Sell my clothes, make a theme park, mix recordings of my voice into current pop hits…just squeeze every drop you can out of this. Write a book, both of you."
"We will," said Martin.
Stanley pulled away from Veronica. "Well, I guess I should do this before I lose my nerve." His voice cracked a bit, and he cleared his throat. "What do you think? Feet first or head first?"
"Head first," Martin suggested. "It'll be over faster."
"Yeah, but if I mess it up I could end up doing a belly flop. Maybe this is a bad idea."
"It's entirely your choice," said Veronica.
"I know." He stared at the lava and sighed. "Okay, so, should I say something profound? I guess I can't say 'I regret that I have but one life to give.'"
"Say anything you want."
"Ah, I've got nothing. I love you guys. Don't forget to milk my fame. I don't suppose either of you want to jump in here with me to keep me company? Didn't think so. I guess this ends the tale of the Sinister Mr. Corpse."
He closed his eyes, pinched his finger over what little nose he had, and then jumped.
"You have to jump forward more," said Martin.
"I'm working my way to it. Okay, time to quit playing around. I'll miss you. Tell everybody I said something uplifting."
He took a deep breath and jumped into the volcano. He plunged into the lava, sunk beneath the surface, and was gone.