Frankie & Formaldehyde

Chapter Thirteen: Boom

"He's always been a good customer. I guess some habits are more difficult to break than others, and that includes good manners. Never used credit a day in his life. We should all be so disciplined."

Mr. Eisner and his wife were a united front against Chuck, who was starting to wonder if an undead rogue could be considered for sainthood or if their unnatural eternal life banned them from the list. He pretended to concentrate on his notes, a difficult feat with the watchful eye of Helga Eisner staring a hole through him.

"Do you always do that?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Fiddle with nonsense instead of paying attention to the real problem?" He hated the way her tough jaw jutted out far wider than his own, her thick lips pursed in an expression of deep disappointment. She had a slight Austrian accent, one tempered by living here for many years. "You must have better things to do than bothering elderly business people, us hardworking people."

"People like George," Chuck added.

She was angry now. "Yes, people like George. Why are you bothering with him? He hasn't done anything that wasn't expected, he paid for his purchase and he left peacefully. No problems here."

Chuck wasn't sure how to react to this deep a level of denial, a reaction he had seen before but nevertheless always caused a jolt of disquiet within him. "He's a rogue, almost fully intact, and that means he has the ability to rip you apart and eat you piece by piece. He's extremely dangerous."

Helga scoffed at this. "He is not. He is George."

"He ripped the head off of the bank manger, one Mr. Parker."

"Bah, I would have done that myself given half the chance. He bankrupted us after conveniently losing our lease agreement on this place. Sold it out from under us, the greedy bastard."

"Helga is very angry," Mr. Eisner interjected. He gave his wife a meek, but scolding, glance. "It is not nice to swear, dear."

"I cannot help it. That Mr. Parker was an evil man." She rummaged through the drawers of the large cashier's desk, small smatterings of German leaving her lips, the translation no less ear burning. She pulled out a small pile of papers and gave them to Chuck. "Not that it ever mattered to them, but George wanted to keep a record of what was going on. This is his work, and he had us keep it here, for safety's sake. He was always worried some bastard from Osmosis would get a hold of it."

"Helga, my dearest, language, please."

"Leck mich am Arsch!"

Chuck took the papers from her and quickly scanned the lists of names written neatly in rows of threes. The whole town, save for himself, seemed to have signed it. He read the first paragraph and gleaned that it was a petition to have the Happy Restful Afterlife Home shut down and have Osmosis Inc. banned from the region due to illegal, strong-armed tactics against the town's citizens. 'There is a pronounced lack of concern for our safety and continued well being' was one quote.

He frowned as he took it all in, seeing Helga and Martin Eisner's names near the top, along with the grocery clerk's parents and the fortified dry cleaner known only as Mr. McDoogle. Chuck had never been approached, and though it really didn't have anything to do with him since no one was threatening to wrench his livelihood and home out from under him, he couldn't help but feel hurt.

"Why wasn't I told of this?" he snapped at them.

Martin Eisner held his head high. "Because you work for them."

"How many times do I have to tell you people, I don't work for Osmosis. I'm just here to pick up stray, dangerous rogues before they go around eating living people." He tossed the petition onto the counter. "Besides, no one cares about this kind of thing. A bunch of names written on paper means nothing."