A Corpse is a Corpse
It started with a corpse sitting in Jim's office chair... Who's Waldo? Jim sat across from the dead man, an unfired gun in his hand. "Who the hell are you, Waldo?" he said in the angry tone that helped keep the fear bottled up. "How did you get in here? What are you doing at my desk?" Sitting in the chair opposite the body, he stretched out one leg in deference to the dress sword at his side. The weapon's scarlet tassel clashed with the burgundy fabric of the chair, as did the red plume in his hat. "What the hell happened to you, man?" The corpse didn't answer, its arms stretched out wide on either side, staring at the ceiling.