Anthony Merril was a short-tempered man. Patience always eluded him, dangling in front of his face as if on a string. He tried to curb his emotions knowing that sooner or later it would get him into trouble but with the daily grind on his shoulders, it wasn’t easy.

Don’t have time, too much to do, can’t stop and smell the flowers. These excuses always seemed to fill in as reasons in his stressed out life. Having to be in one place or another in the allotted time was his life story and to make matters worse, his job required him to be on the road frequently.

Short tempers and cars don’t mix well.

His temper would usually surface when he was on the road. Red lights, traffic, slow drivers, they all occupied a certain place on his nerves. He would often find himself losing control while behind the wheel. Whether it was directed at an inanimate object such as a traffic light or at other drivers, he constantly would give in to his anger as he would smack parts of the car’s interior and shout obscenities.

However, being an otherwise good man soothed his conscience and allowed him to thrive in life. Shrewd money management grew into a comfortable lifestyle and a loving girlfriend, who was ironically the opposite of him, evened out his life nicely.

He was always relaxed when he was around Theresa. She seemed to be able to hold him in check and he loved her dearly for it. With the exceptions of her nagging him about marriage and his temper, she was perfect for him. He was the hand, she was the glove; enveloping him in a protective covering of love.

He tried hardest for her. He never wanted anything to happen to her and his bad temper always jeopardized that.

But it was hard. There were so many idiots on the road. Slow half-wits that had nothing but time and nowhere in particular to go. People with too much time on their hands, people driving for the fun of it, to relax, to enjoy the view!

Theresa had told him more than once that he’d better take it easy on the road. The police don’t care for road rage she’d say. A ticket is not only money out the window but also a warning. A warning that something worse could happen. One day, she’d say, his temper would be the end of him. He’ll get upset at the wrong person and that will be it.

He took her warnings to heart but her words were always lost when he would be running late and his patience would be tested.

Friday arrived like any other day. The alarm clock sounded with no regard for Tony’s comfort as the sun’s rays seeped through the blinds. Rolling over lazily, Tony glanced at the clock.

Seven thirty-three! Why hadn’t the alarm went off earlier? The sound of plastic meeting drywall echoed in the room.

“Dammit Tony! Did you have to do that?” Theresa’s voice was filled with anger.

“I’m late! Damn clock didn’t work right anyways.”

Rushing down the stairs, Tony knew he would not have time for breakfast or even a shave and coffee would have to be in the car.

Theresa rolled over on her side. “Please be careful,” she sighed, knowing her boyfriend’s temper all too well. “And for God’s sake, don’t forget to wear your seatbelt.”

Tony only heard a few of the words as he flew out the front door. His mind was already preoccupied charting the quickest route to work.

As he was backing out of the driveway, four cars in a slow succession rolled by, almost as if to deliberately delay him.

“Come on, dammit!”

His shouts caused Theresa to come out the front door. She watched helplessly as Tony sped down the road leaving only a trail of dust in his wake. She made a mental note to call his office later to make sure he arrived there all right. It was all she could do.

“You’ll get upset at the wrong person and that will be it,” she whispered to herself. “That will be it.”

Seven fifty- one. He was making good time. The weather was clearing up and he felt confident that he could make it to work on time. But then the detour sign interrupted his thoughts.

The large, metallic board mocked him, declaring its victory at slowing his progress. Three other cars snaked their way ahead of him, inching in the direction of the arrow on the detour sign.

Ten minutes and a mile and a half later, the detour broke off into two directions. South was shorter but was flooded with a sea of red taillights. North was the option despite its single lane and thirty mile per hour speed signs.

Two cars, a small yellowish Omni speckled with rust and a dark green Delta 88 vintage nineteen seventy-seven, chose the same route as Tony.

The Omni was sandwiched between Tony and the Delta 88 like a spot of mustard between bread. Tony slammed his fist down on the dashboard.

“For Christ sake,” he cried in disgust. “Two cars! Two damn cars!”

The road seemed to stretch out forever and Tony was trying his best to stay calm. Looking ahead, he could see what the problem was; some idiot in the Delta 88 who was barely doing twenty miles per hour.

His thoughts about what he would like to do to the driver were interrupted by his car’s engine sputtering.

“Should’ve had a tune up,” he grumbled. “Come on, let’s move!”

Then a small miracle happened. The Omni was turning off the road. Tony breathed a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the blinking red turn signal. Now if he could just get past that moron in the Delta 88!

Seven fifty-eight. The Delta wasn’t speeding up at all despite Tony’s frequent honks and curses. The driver, an elderly man wearing a baseball cap, seemed oblivious to the noise. He didn’t react or even acknowledge the car tailgating him. He merely continued on his way as if time did not exist at all.

Tony’s temper was now boiling. Eight o’clock and still ten miles from work, stuck behind some pinhead with no regard for other people. His car was still sputtering, coming dangerously close to stalling on several occasions.

Obscenities bounced off the interior of the car like a tennis ball. Tony’s body flew into uncontrollable spasms within the seat. He hit the dashboard, he smacked the steering wheel and he punched the radio. His head lopped back and forth and his feet thrashed wildly at the pedals.

The car lurched forward instantly, connecting with the bumper of the Delta 88. Metal met metal, each giving way to the other in a costly chorus of noise.

“Dammit! I don’t believe this!” Tony mumbled to himself as he shut off the ignition.

Considering the force of the impact, the damage wasn’t too bad. A dent the size of a large grapefruit adorned both bumpers. He was running the numbers for

repairs in his head as the other driver was starting to maneuver himself out of his car. Tony watched the dirty blue baseball cap emerge.

He was a little surprised at the size of the man. He had to weigh at least two hundred and fifty pounds and was dressed rather shabbily in old world style clothes that resembled a gypsy’s. His hands, big enough to hide beer cans in, dangled loosely at his side. He quietly lumbered towards Tony showing neither surprise nor anger. His gaze was averted by the damage to his bumper and he then fixed his red-rimmed eyes on Tony. Five seconds of observation were followed by soft grunts of disappointment. But he still said nothing.

Tony could only wait for his reaction.

“You hit my car,” the man finally said in a surprisingly gentle tone. “It’s got only forty-four thousand miles on it you know. I had it shipped here from Europe.”

Tony was caught off guard by the unusual response.

“Europe?”

The man adjusted his cap. “Yeah. My whole family lives there. We all have big cars now. A few modifications and you can fit almost anything in them.” He motioned for Tony to follow him. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Tony felt uncomfortable about the situation but felt his curiosity grow. Besides, being friendly with the guy could only help him in this mess and he was already so late for work that it wouldn’t make much of a difference if he were a little later.

The rear windows were tinted almost completely black. The man opened one of the back doors allowing Tony to peer over his shoulders and into the rear seat compartment.

“Let me show you something. You’ll get a kick out of this.”

His expression grew wide and his face tightened with excitement.

“Do you see that?” he asked anxiously.

Tony leaned in closer. The smell of moldy earth stung his nostrils and burned his eyes. And then he noticed something…a box. An oblong box nestled snugly in the backseat. Although there was no backseat. It had been taken out to allow the box to rest perpendicular to the front seat. Half was in the trunk, half was in the backseat.

As Tony continued to look he noticed something else…the shape of the box.

His heart now in his mouth, he realized it was a coffin!

“That’s my bed. Couldn’t travel without it you know, although I’ve kinda grown used to this damn sunlight.”

Tony felt the man’s warm, sour breath on his neck. Too scared to even scream, he finally managed to rotate his head and met with the man’s red eyes.

“What the hell are you?” he forced himself to ask.

The large man gripped his neck with lightning speed. His fingers stretched to several inches long, allowing him an inhumanly strong grip around Tony’s throat.

“Haven’t you guessed?” he sighed in a deep, hot voice just as Tony’s neck snapped.