Not Even Death

In the dead of night, in a cemetery which showed signs of ruin, a lone figure dug slowly but surely into a grave.

His hatred for the grave's occupant spurred him on for it was hatred unmatched and even death could not keep him from getting back at the jerk who was peacefully lying in his coffin at the moment.

The figure's mates stumbled like drunkards out of the cemetery leaving him to his devices as they couldn't care less.

Finally, after a long while of work, the man had successfully dug up the thief. The thief, for some reason, was among the few who would not wake but the determined man would not let past grievances go.

He pried the lid open to find that the corpse showed little sign of decay. Without much thought, he pried the locket from the corpse then proceeded to drag it further from his grave.

"Idiots, the lot of them," he thought "how could they make such a mistake?" he contemplated exchanging their clothes but it was one thing to wear second-hand clothes and another thing to wear clothes someone else was rotting in.

"But he can't wear clothes my family paid for." he argued ignoring the fact that he was doing the same. After some deliberation, he tore the clothes and placed them with the coffin in the hole.

He looked around to find that he was alone and quite a number of graves had been opened but that had nothing to do with him.

"Finally I can 'rest in peace' he said then hopped into the coffin and closed the lid.

"Now how am I supposed to bury this?"