Acorpse by any other name would smell as sweet.
Unless, of course, it isn't dead yet.
Tonight's tawdry tale...
is about a man who's gravely concerned about matters of life and death.
Why he'd care about that remains to be seen.
I call this putrid piece...
Abra Cadaver.
You got your head up your ass, Carl.
You don't understand what I'm talking about.
Clinical death is heart death. I'm talking about brain death.
- I understand that, believe me I do. - Don't patronize me, little brother.
- I know you better than that. - I'm not patronizing you, Martin.
I'm simply disagreeing with you, there's a difference.
Your idea is completely untenable.
Take oxygen away from someone's brain...
and all you have left is a couple of pounds of organ meat.
They can't hear, they can't feel, they can't see.
You're as narrow-minded as everyone else.
- That's the pot calling the kettle black. - I don't have to help you, you know.
Nobody helped me get through medical school.
- That's 'cause you're a fucking genius. - It has nothing to do with that.
Becoming a surgeon is about hard work.
You have to make sacrifices if you're gonna succeed.
I know.
And be a miserable uptight asshole, like you.
What are you going to do if you have your own practice?
You gonna call me in the middle of surgery...
because you don't know what to do?
You wouldn't need my help. I wouldn't have to be here...
if you took your work a little more seriously.
I need you here, Marty...
'cause you're gonna hold my dick for me when I have to take a leak.
That's real nice, Carl. Real nice.
There's a mild anomaly in the artery system here.
What is it? What are the implications?
We'll see.
The left main... No, wait a minute.
- You're looking at the crux, right? - Shit, you are in trouble. Come on.
Use your damn eyes, Carl.
The right coronary artery usually crosses the crux, right?
What does that tell you about this guy's problem?
Wait a minute. The circ's supposed to feed the AV node.
Don't you understand what you are looking at?
Come on, how the hell did you get through two years?
All right! All right!
Shit.
I'm weak on circ. We'll come back to it. Let's look at something else.
"We'll come back to it. "
Is that what you're going to say when you take your practicals next week?
Gross! Next.
We gotta do something about your attitude, Carl.
Fresh meat. Hey, think she can hear us?
I'm asking, Martin. I don't know, maybe you're right.
- Honey, I'd turn necro for you in a second. - You're disgusting.
Do you think she can hear us?
Do you think she's really alive in there?
- God, baby, you are beautiful. - Stop that.
She's dead, Martin. She's cold as fucking ice.
She wouldn't know it if we went hip-to-hip till sunrise.
Yeah? Then how do you explain those kids they pull from the ice...
clinically dead after an hour?
Yet they wake up as if nothing ever happened?
I don't know. Luck?
No. Their brains never died.
That's the point.
Can she feel me, Martin? Can she?
Whoa.
- What? - I don't know.
What's the matter?
It was like her skin responded.
Shit, look.
Her nipple got hard.
Shit.
Don't touch me!
No!
Surprise!
Happy birthday, Marty.
Was that not the best joke you ever have seen in your life?
Oh, God.
It was a joke?
It was, indeed. This is my girlfriend, Paula.
Hi, Marty. It's nice to meet you.
I thought you forgot.
I may be a selfish prick, but I'm not that selfish.
Hey, Marty.
- Billy? - Yeah.
Is that you?
Don't just stand there gawking. Join the party.
- Marty, what's wrong? What's wrong? - My heart.
Somebody call a goddamn ambulance, now!
Carl!
- Carl. - It was just a joke, Marty.
Marty.
Marty!
Dr. Keller to the blood bank.
Resident on duty, report to neurology.
Dr. Bailey sent this down for you, Dr. Fairbanks.
- He wants an answer on it, stat. - Bailey wants everything stat.
Can I talk to you, Dr. Fairbanks?
I wanna know why you're avoiding me, Carl.
I'm not avoiding you. We're talking right now, aren't we?
This is talking? While you look through your mail?
Look, I just want to know if it's over. Is that what you're trying to telling me?
Kelly, don't go reading dire messages into everything.
Sometimes a banana is just a banana, okay?
Then where the hell were you last night?
Son of a bitch!
- I wanna know what this means. - Good morning, Carl.
I called in every favor I had to get you that teaching position, Martin.
- Why aren't you taking it? - I'm fine, thank you. How are you?
You didn't even have the decency to tell me about it.
I find out by getting a photocopy of your letter to the faculty committee.
Do you have any idea what that makes me look like?
An asshole? What do you think?
I'm through discussing this with you, Martin.
I'm calling the committee in the morning and I'm telling them you're taking the job.
I don't have time to teach.
You've got nothing but time, my friend.
We made a deal.
Either you showed me results, or I cut off your funding.
You've showed me nothing, so I said, "Fine. I'll get you a teaching position. "
You can waste your own money for a change.
It's a shame, Carl. I don't get a chance to see you anymore.
- Only your money. - I'm warning you, Martin.
Take the job, or I cut you off completely.
Can I get you a drink?
You think I'm joking, don't you?
I'm totally serious, Martin. I've tried to help you...
now I'm perfectly prepared to cut you off. Just give me your answer.
Come on, have a drink with me. Come on.
Be a brother for a change, not a benefactor.
You'll never forgive me, will you?
I'll try, little brother.
Remember that trip I took to Haiti?
I paid for it, didn't I?
Yes, you did.
Yes, you did!
What the hell is all this shit?
Is this where my money's been going?
In Haiti, there's a ritual called les mortes vivantes.
Marty, you told me I was supporting endorphin research...
not fucking voodoo.
Voodoo is a form of folk medicine, Carl.
I mean, they've discovered things that will blow your mind.
Like what? Like hanging dead chickens from the ceiling?
Now, listen to me, Carl. I saw the ceremony.
Les mortes vivantes, the living dead.
I saw dead people rising from their graves.
Is that what this is all about?
God damn it, Marty.
We had an understanding.
I told you I wouldn't pay for any of that bullshit.
No, it's not bullshit, Carl. I found what I was looking for.
We can now show quantitatively that in certain instances...
the brain remains viable long after clinical death.
This subject here died three days ago. Three days!
- I'm still getting all kinds of wave activity. - Are you listening to yourself?
This is not the only...
Do you have any idea what you sound like?
This woman here died one week ago!
You're running a goddamn freak show here.
This is it, Martin.
It's over.
As far as I'm concerned, I've paid my debt to you.
Have a nice life.
You have a nice death.
What's it feel like, Carl...
when your heart ceases on you?
Help me.
You know, watching you like this really brings back memories.
You remember that night, don't you? I do.
I was one hell of a surgeon until your little joke cost me a career.
A surgeon needs two good hands.
Permanent hemiparesis.
The only birthday gift you ever gave me.
What have you done to me?
I've killed you, haven't I?
Well, what? You're not dead.
Not officially yet. I mean, you're still alive, aren't you?
I'm surprised you didn't taste it. I thought the...
Papaverine Hydrochloride would've clashed with the Scotch.
It's too bad that you can't report back what you see, what you feel.
You've always been so helpful in my research.
All right, don't worry. Let me just...
unbutton your sleeve. Take it easy, now.
Don't make this difficult.
Now, if I don't give you this...
they might find traces of poison in your system.
Couldn't have that, could we?
Say good night, Gracie.
- How does it feel being dead? - I'm not dead.
I feel like shit, but I'm not dead.
Carl, are you in there?
I'm talking to you, aren't I?
Anybody home?
Don't go away.
Give me a break, Marty.
You're the worst actor in the world. Help me up, will you?
Right about now, you should be kicking in...
with a good, healthy dose of endorphins.
I bet you're feeling pretty good, am I right?
You know, this is starting to wear really thin, Marty.
I want you to stop it.
Look, I know you can hear me, 'cause I can hear me...
- now cut it out. - How's the view in there, Carl?
I swear to God, Martin, if you don't...
I can't move my arms. Am I paralyzed?
I know you don't believe me, Carl...
but if you'll just be patient here one moment...
I'm sure...
- that you're going to believe this. - Oh, no.
I can't be dead.
You're flatline. Clinically dead.
But you can still see, you can still hear, and...
- you can still feel. - Shit.
My heart.
- But take heart, little brother. - I can't hear it beating.
My research indicates that...
touch is the first sense to go. I hope it's true, because...
that organ donor truck is gonna be by real soon...
and I don't think that's gonna feel real good.
And you thought I had no sense of humor.
Kind of perfect, don't you think?
I mean, here I am, laughing my ass off...
and there you are, deadly serious.
I'm dead.
- I'm really dead. - Who's fucked now, Carl?
Marty, this is crazy! Marty!
Oh, God, my head is spinning. Spinning.
This is what death is like.
Where am I?
What time is it? What day is it?
This man our boy, bossy?
- Martin. - This is him.
Me like a man fresh, you know?
Most of the time, the body you send up here, Doc...
them already chopped up, man.
I got him cheap, too.
I'm not complaining, boss.
I mean, you know, up here, man, we're happy to obtain cadaver...
- no matter when. - Cadaver?
- What the hell's going on? - Me go and sign him in now.
This isn't the morgue. Where the hell are we?
- This man here a John Doe. - John Doe?
- John Doe. - Shit, he's covering his tracks.
He's hiding my body where no one will ever find me.
Marty, I'm your brother, for Christ's sakes. What are you doing to me?
Don't panic, you're at the medical school.
I was joking before about you being an organ donor.
They ask too many questions.
Besides, it seems right that you should wind up here...
where my life ended and your life began.
- You remember this room, don't you? - You'll never get away with it.
They'll catch you.
They'll catch you and fry your fucking little balls off...
- you sick son of a bitch! - Am I sensing a little anger here?
I don't deserve this.
I may ha ve hurt you, but that was an accident.
- This is murder! - Mitch.
Yo, what's up, man?
You want any help hanging him up?
Oh, no. Not the meat locker.
Oh, God.
Look at them all hanging here.
Can they sense what's happening to them?
You'll help me to flip him over, Doctor?
Marty, I gotta hand it to you. I'm really impressed.
- I never thought you had it in you. - Damn, I forgot my knife.
It's okay, Mitch. I've got one.
- Oh, my God. - I have one.
He's going to cut me.
The pressure on my neck. Oh, God. This is...
I can feel the blade...
but it doesn't hurt.
Marty was right about losing the sense of touch.
I wonder when the other senses are gonna go.
You want to help me hoist him up?
Are you sure it's gonna hold?
If it doesn't, he'll never know.
No. No.
Please don't hang me!
Marty. No, please get me down!
- Please! - We got it. Thanks, Doc.
- All right. - Marty, don't go.
You can't lea ve me like this. I can't stand it anymore.
Oh, God, this is hell!
Oh, Christ.
I'll bet that's exactly what it is.
I've died in hell, as in the meat locker at the medical school basement.
See you tomorrow, Carl.
Get me down, Martin. Please.
- Martin. - So...
I guess you'll just be hanging around till then.
Martin, no!
What's happening? The hook, it's slipping. My neck.
I must have passed out. So peaceful.
Oh, God, not this asshole again.
This can't be hell. Not even hell would be this bad.
What are you doing down there, Johnny Doe, sir?
You don't like the accommodations?
You want to change to another hotel at this time?
Too late, man. Club Dread for you.
Come on, let me talk to you.
How long is this gonna last?
It can't be like this forever.
I mean, he's gonna have to die some time, but when?
You want to try Mitch's ganja?
Yo, man, it will take you to another plane.
What am I doing? I can't cough.
It's good, right?
Oh, God, who knows where this guy's mouth has been.
One thing about my ganja, I tell you, it won't go kill you.
Johnny Doe, you're a laugh riot.
Danger, Will Robinson. Danger. Look out, man.
Danger.
Come on, Johnny.
Hey, careful, shithead.
- You're a big white boy. - A little respect for the dead, huh?
Blood clot.
When will all this stop?
When will I have peace?
Will I ever ha ve it?
Time for preparation.
Showtime, Johnny Doe.
I'm on an embalming table.
He's gonna drain me.
He's gonna slit my throat.
Oh, God. No, don't do it, please. Please.
Straight-end deal, man, just like Jah promised.
There was no pain. I didn't feel anything.
Touch is completely gone.
- Stick in the jugular system. - I think this tube's to pump out my blood.
Stick in the jugular system.
Turn on the pump.
- And we'll pump this... - They can't get away with this.
Too many loose ends.
Someone's gonna give a shit that I'm not around.
There goes my blood. Disappearing.
It's a funny feeling, and the light-headedness.
It's like... Maybe this is the end.
A numbness creeping over me in my toes.
- It must be the blood draining out of me. - Good morning, little brother.
Still with us?
I want you to know how glad I am you could join me for my first class.
I forgot to tell you, I changed my mind about your offer.
I decided you were right about the money and everything.
I took the teaching job.
- Yes. - Hold in the pump, please.
School's in.
Marty, don't go! You were right!
- My body's dead, but my brain... - Good morning, everyone.
-... it's alive! - Good morning.
- I'm Dr. Fairbanks. - Hello.
I'll be conducting today's class in cranial anatomy.
- Yes, sir. - So...
without further ado...
I'll begin by drawing...
- the incision line. - That's fine, Marty. Get it over with.
The sooner you cut out my brain, the sooner this will all be over.
I swear, I could just feel my fingers.
Pins and needles.
The numbness isn't settling in, it's wearing off.
The epidural saw.
It cuts both skin and bone.
You can't imagine what a terrible mess the old striker saws used to make.
No! No, wait!
Miss Johnson, would you please peel back the skin while I cut?
Martin, don't!
Oh, God, I'm being peeled.
They're tearing my skull apart.
No. No, Marty, wait.
I'm alive, I can feel.
I can feel my fingers and my toes. I'm alive!
My hand! Look at my hand!
I guess our subject was a little hard-headed.
There we go.
Marty, stop before it's too late.
Marty, please.
I can feel it.
Stop, Martin! Stop.
I'm alive!
Welcome back to the world of the living, little brother.
That's amazing.
- That's really incredible. - I know. It worked.
I'm alive?
Very much alive.
You had a heart attack, all right. You were clinically dead.
The stuff I put into your drink induced it, but you were never in danger.
Oh, my God.
This is what I injected into you.
It's what I was working on, what you were paying for.
I call it Suspensor.
In the event of catastrophic injury, or heart failure...
it preserves brain function, just like it preserved yours.
Over the course of a few hours...
it wears off.
A few hours? It felt like days.
Not just hours, a little under three, to be exact.
- Who are these people? - We're Dr. Fairbanks' research staff.
You'd have known that, if you'd stop by more often.
Hey, I'm sorry about that damn meat hook.
- That was great. - Show him the harness.
We rigged this thing up for you. It wasn't supposed to break.
So, what do you think? Are you impressed?
Have I won over my toughest critic?
Yeah, you have.
- I'm proud of you, Martin. - He's proud.
Good acting, Carl.
What's wrong?
Oh, shit, Carl. All right, what's wrong now?
He's having another heart attack.
Hold it. Hold it.
Johnson, get me the hypodermic.
- Move! Shit, darn. - Yes, sir.
- Carl, it was only a joke. - He's in arrest!
Come on, move.
- Get over here. Get over here! - Right.
- This is for preparation. - Five to one, Stewart. Five to one.
On my count.
Hold on, Carl.
Don't leave me. Don't leave me, Carl.
Five.
One. Pay attention, come on.
- It was only a joke. -... four, five.
- One, two... - Come on!
-... three, four, five. - Try again.
Have you got anything?
What an awful story.
- The guy's own brother killed him. - Well, it was an accident.
He was working with this experimental drug.
He didn't have any idea it would actually cause a heart attack.
Shame.
Damn shame.
- Hand me that epidermal saw, will you? - Yeah, sure.
Here it is at last. My autopsy.
God damn you, Marty. You were absolutely right.
Except about one thing, the sense of touch.
It isn't the first thing to go, it's the last.
And Carl thought he was the family's practical joker.
Want to play doctor?
Then, open wide and say...