The dirt rattled and rained down on Sammy's ears like a death song. He lay stiffly within the coffin of Corbin Brice in a prank that had gone tragically wrong.
Sammy and his three best friends had been drinking applejack cider in the cemetery. Between the huge slab of carved marble that depicted The Last Supper and the forest, it was a perfect, secluded spot for them to drink. 
The multi coloured autumn leaves lay like a wonderful carpet. The friends kicked up the leaves as they ran and rolled around, blowing off steam like wild ponies. The full moon that peeped over the tops of the trees, cast the cemetary in a silvery glow. The boy's conversation centred  around the ultimate prank. Something that they could brag about to their friends when they returned to school.

Slim and Ed had left to get some more hard cider and they'd agreed to meet at the local funeral home.
Sam's father was the town undertaker and funeral home director.

The boys were familiar with the place and had spent many summers cutting the grass and landscaping the grounds for Mr. Clark.
They often sat in the kitchen doing their homework together during high school.

As they entered the darkened Victorian house that served as the funeral parlour, they continued talking about the ultimate prank for tonight.

They had been playing pranks and silly games in this town for years and the people usually knew that it was them.
They had once poured two bottles of bubble bath and green dye into the fountain on St. Patrick's day. They thought they had gotten away with it, but nosy Mrs. Barrington had been walking her little dog and saw them. It took them two days to clean up that fiasco.

Another of their  pranks gone wrong was when they threw endless rolls of toilet paper into the trees of the police station, not realizing that they were being captured on the camera. That one had cost them three days and forty hours of cleaning the town.

The prank tonight had to be foolproof and memorable. The friends sat at the table and conspired over cookies and soda.
" We should play a prank on these guys just for making us wait so long."
Roger nodded his head in agreement.

"I know what we can do!" Sam suggested drunkenly, swaying slightly on his feet.
They left the kitchen and headed for the viewing room.

The old house had been built by the richest man in town. The living room, decorated in flocked wallpaper and dark wood wainscotting and was now the viewing room. A dark wooden coffin was set upon a long table for the final viewing. Two large candles rose tall in the lavish bouquet. The room smelled of lavender and day lilies.

"Okay Buddy, this will be the best Halloween prank ever. We will go down in history for this one I bet. This is what I think will scare the pants off those two."

"I'll hop into this casket with Mr., uhh, Brice, he said as he read the name on the brass plaque.

"Maybe we can light the candles and dim the light. Make it really spooky for them. I'll jump out and scare the pants off them. What do you think?"

Roger would have agreed to any prank at this point. He giggled behind his hands. Just the thought of scaring his friends gave him renewed energy. He grinned at Sam and declared, "I'm keen, jump in next to our dearly departed buddy and let's do this!"

"Oh man, perfect prank. The kids at school will be talking about this one for a long time!"

Sam swung his leg over and settled next to the late Mr. Brice. There was barely enough room as Sam squeezed in next to the dead man.

"It is tight, he reported, now close it, they'll be here any minute!"

Roger grabbed the brass handle and began to lower the lid, but mahogany was heavier than he expected and it slipped from his hand.

The lid slammed down with a loud, firm click.

"Hey, the smell of formaldehyde is way strong in here. Let me out, we can figure another prank!"

Roger grabbed the handle again and lifted with all his might.The coffin was well and truely closed. He struggled for another minute, then yelled to his friend.

"Listen, I'm going to get your dad real fast. I cannot open this lid," Roger yelled frantically, running his hands through his long hair.

Sam mumbled something from within and Roger took off into the night.

He crossed Elm and was halfway across Staten Road when he stopped in his tracks.
Roger was suddenly illuminated by a bright light and froze.

Edward had just finished his last delivery of sodas to the local shops. He rubbed his eyes and thought of the dinner and relaxing evening when he finally got home. He turned up the radio and tapped the steering wheel in time to the music.

Suddenly, in the middle of the road he saw a young man, head down, darting across. There was no way to avoid him.
Edward blasted the horn as the tires screeched.

The townspeople looked up from what they were doing at that moment. The accident was heard for blocks. People ran from their homes to see what had happened.

Roger was struck and flew high into the air. He spun wildly like a rag doll. His phone was still ringing and flew into the bushes.
By the time he hit the ground, he was dead.

Slim and Ed, who had just returned from the store, and heard the accident, ran to the scene and saw Roger. They ran to him and instantly they both realized with horror that there was nothing to be done.

They figured that Sam had been with him and they searched around desperately, calling his name in frantic shouts.
The ambulance came and took the body away. In the blue flashing lights of the police car, the boys tearfully explained to the police what they knew.



The next day dawned bright and sunny for the burial of Corbin Brice. His family and friends gathered to bury their friend.
Braving chilled October winds, the family and frienof Corbin and the black hearse wound their way solemnly through the barren cemetery. Bare trees, silver with frost swayed to create a gray and somber scene.

Inside the coffin, Sam wept softly. Dizzy from fear, tired and crazed from the strong chemicals.He could no longer make a sound. He was wedged in tight and beyond panic.

His throat was raw and dry from screaming all night. His legs had cramped up hours ago, but he was beyond pain.

He tried to pound on the lid. He could just reach up with his fist.
The padded satin made a soft, puffed sound with each strike.

The hearse came to a stop. This is my last chance he thought desperately. He then felt the coffin slide along the tracks of the hearse as the mourners removed the casket.
He felt the pallbearers adjust, align, then carry Sam and the late Mr. Brice to the gravesite.

Sam tried to rock the coffin, but he was so wedged between his coffin mate and the wooden side, it hardly made a difference to those carrying it.

Now Sam heard a muted whirring sound as the coffin descended slowly down into the grave.
It settled with a little bump.

The dirt landing on the lid, was the frightening, final reality.

No one ever knew what happened to Sam. They looked for him and the police questioned anyone that might know where he disappeared to. The town felt like they had lost two of their boys that night.
There were lots of speculation and rumours. Over lunch at the Bluebird Cafe, in the schoolyard, in Sam's home.

No one partied and drank hard cider behind the Last Supper monument any more since that night. Slim and Ed had gone once more to look for any clue, but just ended up being more dumbfounded at the mystery.
Once Slim remarked that it was the ultimate prank, but there werehigh fives or laughter about it.

The spot behind the carved marble slab of the Last Dinner resumed it's peaceful status. If someone had gone back, they might have seen two wispy ghosts.

One, a teenager gone well before his time and the other a retired accountant that suffered a heart attack while playing tennis at the town court.

Unlikely friends forever entangled in a prank gone tragically wrong.