A young man was walking down a deserted street late at night on his way home from a club. It was raining steadily, so he turned up the collar of his jacket. Just then he heard a strange noise. Bump, bump, bump. It seemed to be coming from behind, so he turned round and through the rain was able to make out the faint outline of a box following him down the street. Bump, bump, bump. As the box got closer, he could see that it was a coffin. Bump, bump, bump. By now he was getting a little spooked, so he decided to walk faster, but the coffin kept gaining on him. Bump, bump, bump. So he started jogging, only for the coffin to speed up too. Bump, bump, bump. He was now seriously frightened and accelerated into a sprint as he turned the corner into his street. The coffin started sprinting too. Bump, bump, bump. Still the coffin appeared to be gaining with every step, but his house was now in sight. Would he be able to make it in time? The coffin pursued him relentlessly. Bump, bump, bump. He raced up the drive of his house and fumbled for his keys. He could hear the coffin right behind him. Bump, bump, bump. Sweating heavily, he finally managed to open the door and quickly slammed it behind him, but the coffin just burst through the glass pane. Bump, bump, bump, crash. Fleeing for his life, he ran up the stairs. Surely the coffin wouldn't be able to climb stairs, but to his horror it could. Bump, bump, bump. With nowhere to hide, he took refuge in the bathroom. The coffin approached the door. Bump, bump, bump. Desperately searching for a weapon, he reached into the medicine cabinet and threw a bar of Imperial Leather soap at the coffin. It had no effect, so he grabbed a sachet of Alberto VO5 shampoo and threw that at the coffin. Still the coffin advanced menacingly towards him. Bump, bump, bump. In a last, defiant gesture, his hand darted back into the cabinet and this time he threw a bottle of Robitussin. And the coffin stopped.