Author's Disclaimer: This story does not depict any person(s) living or dead, fictional or otherwise, if so they are purely coincidental.

Tyler Jacob Binderman, middle-aged, cutthroat executive, tore his gold Cadillac Seville from its preferred parking space at the million dollar, multilevel high-rise. He was practically a millionaire himself. But you never would have known he lacked so much patience indeed. As he pulled out into the street, his cell phone started ringing. He was on his way to lunch and hadn't the time nor interest to answer any unnecessary calls. He threw his phone up to his ear and shouted his hellos.

"Who is this?" He squawked. "Mr. Binderman, it's Mark Carolyn." The voice on the other end spoke.

"Carolyn, what are you doing calling me on my cell?" Tyler barked.

"The office said you were out, and since I had this number..." Mark's explanation was interjected by Tyler's ranting.

"That stupid girl! If I have told her once, I have told her a thousand times not give out this number!" Tyler screamed, then hung up the phone.

"I've had enough of these people! The idiots that work for me!" He exploded.

Tyler came to a two-lane intersection. The traffic was at a standstill. No one was moving, not even an inch.
Tyler honked his horn incessantly.

"Come on! We haven't got all day!"
Tyler put his car in reverse, and then pulled into the other lane. A slow line of on coming traffic was making its way through the intersection.

Tyler could wait no longer. He ripped out into the intersection and found himself right in the middle of a funeral procession.

"Oh I don't need this!"
Tyler blasted his horn to the hearse in front of him.
"Come on, it won't kill you to go a little faster! The guy is already dead for crying out loud!"

Tyler stepped on the gas and found himself on the tail of the hearse.
"That's right! See how you like it!"

Tyler ground his teeth together in fury. Without warning, the black car behind slammed into his back end. The impact was so great; Tyler was pushed forward and smacked his head off the steering wheel.
Rendering him completely unconscious.

Tyler awoke from what he thought was his worst nightmare. Cold sweat poured from his skin. When he tried sitting up, he found there was no room to move.
He was closed in on all sides.
Tyler reached for his lighter in his shirt pocket.

At the first dawning of light, Tyler found himself not out of his nightmare, but in a pine box. Earth had fallen from above into his new sanctuary. And as his own screams echoed in his ears, the lighter flickered out.

As you know, when buried under ground, oxygen is scare, and so is help.

Inside this sleepy cemetery where no visitors are abound,
poor Mr. Binderman died, and no one heard a sound.
If you should ever come across a procession, wait your turn or stop ahead,
but whatever you do,
NEVER INTERRUPT THE DEAD.