I think the idea came to us after Mr Gary Baldy's funeral.

He was our junior high school gym teacher, a lovable nut job, and I think just about everybody liked him.

We went to the service of course, and those who passed by the excavator in the graveyard.

I remember Nate saying something like being buried alive is my worst fear.

We stopped and peered down the hole. It wasn't finished yet. The ground, more or less frozen solid, but they were about halfway

done. I could see Knights shuddering as he carefully glanced over the edge. I think Frank noticed his reaction to,

and he gave me a weak nod as I raised my eyebrows.

Now, it's important to know that Nate was a real prankster. He loved getting one over on us,

Frank and me, and he'd been taking great pleasure in doing so for the better part of our lives.

The three of us go back all the way to kindergarten.

And I remember very vividly the first time he pranked me. He pulled out the chair from under me as I sat down and I

ended up sprawling on the floor helplessly. Since then, his pranks have evolved into more

sophisticated shenanigans of course,

like bubble wrap in my car or shaving Frank's head while he slept

or sporadically hacking into our social media accounts

to change our profile pictures.

Harmless stuff like that.

But we were getting pretty sick of it.

It was like he believed the pranks the persona to be the cornerstone of his identity, like he'd

ceased to exist without it, like his entire life revolved around screwing people over. It was getting pretty damn tiresome, I'll tell you that

much. So Frank and I had been discussing it for weeks.

How to prank him back, how to make him realize just how bad it can make you feel.

...