Man Who Played Dead

A strange doctor weir. Good evening. Come in, won't you? What's the matter? You seem a bit nervous. Perhaps if I told you a story it might help calm your nerves. A story say about a man who found a new and amazing way of hiding from the police.

I call the story the man who played dead. My story, The Man Who Played Dead, begins in the dimly-lighted interior of a strange room in a bigger amusement park. The room is a waxworks museum known as the Chamber of Horrors, and wax figures of history's most diabolical murderers stand motion that's all about it.

The only living figure is the proprietor, Pop Moloy, who moves slowly from dummy to dummy, dusting them in preparation for the big spring opening. As pop approaches have figured in a dark corner, a figure unexpectedly speaks to him.

All right, put up your hands. Hey, Morgan. Well, it's Morgan and not a dummy either. But I don't understand you were in prison. You're supposed to go to the electric chair tonight. I was supposed to, but I broke out to see after they had me all prepared for the hot seat.

What do you want here? Just a hide for a while. The cops are right behind me, so since this is the only place in the park open, I slipped in 10 minutes ago when your back was turned.

You're pleased to hide here. There's just this one big room. No arguments. You go ahead of me while I look around. All right, look around. Same as no place to hide the door. I'll find one.

Hey, these three dummies here. They look like my old partners. Joe Norton, Marty Phillips. Tony Benson. Yes, Bert. That's who they're supposed to be. When's he shot in the back last year? What do you got them standing around this funny electric chair for?