Disclaimer: You know how this works, but, I still gotta say it. All characters contained in this story are the sole property of Stephen King.
Chapter 3
Guidebook
As a newly dead Stephen King Villain, you probably have a lot of questions.
You go that right, Harold thought.
Well, welcome to the only book with the answers that will only raise more questions!
Oh, great. The author thinks he has a sense of humor.
Everything you never knew that you always needed to know is contained right here within the cover of this book.
Oh, yeah, I'm sure everything I need is all here.
Yep, it's all here. Every bit of it.
Okay, this is getting kinda weird.
You know, sometimes I amaze even myself.
You want to amaze me? Then tell me where the fuck I am at and what the fuck I am doing here. Even better, where the hell did I come from?
I mean, it's not everyday that you can help someone like yourself with the questions of who you are, where you came from and what you are doing here….
"What the FUCK?" Harold cried, shaking his head.
Harold flung the book from his lap as if it was scalding hot. The book slid across the floor coming to a stop under a glass coffee table.
"What the FUCK?" Harold repeated, his head continuing to shake as if to deny what he saw. "What the FUCK?"
"You know, if you keep talking to yourself, people might think that there is something wrong with you," a smooth voice behind him said. "Of course, if there really is something wrong with you, then, you are definitely in the right place."
Harold turned around and looked at the man standing behind him. The man was middle aged, but, trim, wearing an expensive black suit. He looks like a politician thought Harold.
"The name's Greg Stillson. How do you do?" Greg reached out his hand to Harold.
Harold took his hand numbly, his head still shaking back and forth.
"Uh, son, is there something wrong with your head?"
"What?"
"Your head. Is there something wrong with it? Or, do you enjoy the feeling of your brain moving back and forth?"
"What?"
Greg sighed and started shaking his own head.
"You poor kid. You have no idea what is going on, do you?" Greg said sadly. "Where is your hand book?"
At the mention of the book, Harold's head stopped shaking and jerked towards the coffee table where the book laid.
"How do you know about the book? Did you write it? Is it some sort of joke? How did you do that? How did you know what I was thinking? How did you…." Harold's voice broke, cutting off the sound, but, his lips kept moving like a fish out of water.
Greg laughed softly, letting go of Harold's hand.
"I see you read the introduction to the book. Kind of freaky, huh? Scared me the first time I read it myself."
Greg paused, a look of sadness passing briefly across his face.
"I see that Flagg just left you by yourself with the book and no warning."
Greg walked over to the book, bent over, picked it up and carried it back to Harold, who shied away from it.
"Don't worry, it won't hurt you. Unless of course your feelings get hurt easily. But, I digress."
He dropped the book into Harold's lap.
"This book is the best thing that has ever happened to you. This book will answer any question that you have for it. It will help you with any information that you need. Although, I am sure that since the original came from Leland's shop, there is no telling what other little surprises that book has in store for you."
Greg shrugs his shoulders and smiles.
"Well, I must be going. See you around." He turns and walks away, tossing a short wave over his shoulder.
