text: ‘Fools all of them, simple minded fools who could not begin to understand a single percent of my geniuses,’ the supposed dead man yelled in the morgue to one in particular. He had woken up not to long ago but had already resumed his nonsensical shouting at the sky. Some thing would never change. The morgue was a rather cold place but that was alright, he had felt nothing but cold these past few weeks so he had grown accustomed to it. What he had not grown accustomed to however was the fact that he could look at his own hands again, his own body for that matter. Something what was once considered so ordinary had now become a queer phenomenon. Simply put it was unnatural. He should never again have to look at his own hands. It felt beneath him. In a fuss which made no sense and sense at the same time he crossed his arms like a three year old would after having been denied ice cream. ‘This would not do, not all.’ He proceeded to throw the nearest thing he could find against the wall. It happened to be a dismembered arm that once belonged to a poor fellow ran over by a donkey. By accident he found himself staring into a mirror. Staring at himself. How long had it been since he was able to view himself in a reflection? The stranger did not know. What he did know was that his sight should not be there. Looking in the mirror for him was like looking at a stranger you would pass by in the streets. His face was no longer his, he did not want to see it ever again. So he proceeded to commit the only logical act he could. He threw a shoe at the mirror and it shattered into a million different pieces. Pain. The way he threw the arm. Pain was found in his chest. The man rubbed his chest, the spots where the bullets hit him still hurt, he did not believe that the pain would ever stop seizing. It never did. But pain was of no importance here. The Stranger laughed. He laughed like he was insane, perhaps he was insane. Perhaps he had always been insane. Deep down everyone was a little bit insane. The man thought back to the reason he was here, the reason he was still alive. ‘Those moronic fools. ALL OF THEM!’ he cleared his throat. ‘It was so easy to get that doctor they sent on my side. All it took was a little bit of money, something I have plenty off. Humanity, nothing about it matters if one has a little bit of money. HILARIOUS!’ There was a sound. It did not come from him. Everything stopped all at once. Focus diverted to the direction said sound came from. Someone else? The coroner? Footsteps came down from the steps which lead to the outside world, to freedom. To everything that ever could be. The Coroner was coming down to see what all the ruckus was about in his morgue. The Stranger was in no rush to find a hiding place or act dead. In fact he did not such thing, he did not even bother moving a single step. The Stranger stood where he stood, no clothes on him. The Coroner had finally made his way down the steps. He looked around his morgue, nothing had been displaced nobody was there. Until he spotted the naked man smiling at him. ‘Well than what’s all this?’ The Coroner asked as his face dropped. The strange naked man did not respond to him due to the fact he did not believe the Coroner was talking to him. No one could ever talk to him ever again for that matter, only he could talk to them. But not as of now. The Coroner was staring at him, wondering why the strange naked man was in his morgue. ‘Oi! I’m talking to you there! You with your willy out and everything!’ The Coroner yelled. Realization came to the Stranger at last. The Coroner was talking to HIM? How could such a thing be possible. How in a million years could a ordinary human witness him? Then he looked at his own hands again. ‘Bugger.’ ‘Bugger?!’ The Coroner screamed. ‘Is that all you have to say? What are you doing standing all naked in my morgue!?’ The queerness of a human being seeing him again was something he did not want to grow accustomed to. It was so beneath him. ‘Do not yell at me you imbecilic. You do not have that kind of right. And if you really must know. I just woke up here you see.’ The strange man paused his sentence. He turned his head, looked around the morgue, inspecting the place. Hoping to find something which he could use as a murder weapon. Everything could be used as a murder weapon, even his hands. He could repeat strangling someone but to repeat a style of murder was so terrible dull. Life was dull enough as it was, there needed to be some magic in it, some EXCITEMENT. ‘No, no, no, no, no, NO. Murdering someone the same way as before would not do!’ The strange man yelled. ‘What are you talking about? Murder?’ ‘Yes murder you idiot, now shut up and let me think.’ The Stranger paced in circles, surely there must be some original way to murder him in here? There had to be ONE! The strange man’s head turned to the table which held all the little instruments one would need in an autopsy. Only now one of them was going to be used to end the life of a living coroner, well he wouldn’t be living for much longer. The Stranger grabbed the first thing he could, it turned out to be a hammer. More cliché then he had hoped for but beggars could not be choosers. Hammer in hand he neared the Coroner, his grin never fading no matter how close he came. Murder was about to make a reappearance. ‘Stay back I am warning you!’ ‘Warning me with what? What could a little man like you possible do against me!? HAHAHAHAHAHA.’ The Coroner wanted to utter out a reply but could not complete that action due to the fact that the Stranger crushed his throat with his own hammer, it was a rather bloody sight to witness. ‘I hope that will teach to you to talk to strangers.’ The Stranger dropped the hammer on the dying Coroner’s head. ‘Here take it back, I have no use for it anymore.' The Coroner was declared death by the Stranger. He stood over the death body of the Coroner, there was a joke in there somewhere but he was in no mood to think of one, there was too much on his mind. He needed to leave the morgue, he needed something else. A laboratory, yes a laboratory would do nicely. He looked at the steps. It was time to leave this place. The Stranger walked towards said steps. Only to pause his walking toward the exit not even ten seconds later. The beginning of this new tale had to wait, something needed to be said first. ‘DEATH SHALL HAVE ME WHEN IT HAS EARNED ME.’ The man resumed his walk, up the stairs he walked. Enough time had been wasted already. The time had come. Time for Jack Griffin to become The Invisible Man once more.