John looked up from his beer. Before him was the bartender, George, cleaning an empty glass with a white rag. How cliché of a western-genre story, don't you think?

To John's right, there sat noone.

However, to his left sat a strange-looking man. The poor lighting in the saloon shaded the strange man's face. He wore a large ten-gallon hat and a white neckerchief.

John decided to speak with this strange man. The saloon was silent around this hour, so he didn't need to be louder than normal.

"Sir, I believe we've never met."

The strange man said something under his breath. It was too silent to hear.

"My name is John. I own a ranch of cattle just south of this little town. What's your name?"

The strange man moved his head to look at John. His head showed.

"My name, John, is Ghost. I own a huge cattle ranch with a large home, and I also run a newspaper: True Capitalist Daily. I'm sure you've heard of it."

John smiled. "I've read it for weeks."

Ghost got up from his barstool.

"Well, I have to go now. Have a nice time."

As he began to turn around, a man quickly entered the saloon with a sixgun aimed at Ghost.

He squeezed the trigger.

<=¦---¦€¦---¦=o=[\\\\\V/////]=o=¦---¦€¦---¦=>

"Where am I?"

Ghost looked around.

He apearred to be inside... a coffin.

"Oh Jesus Christ!"

He began to push on the lid.

Nothing happened. He started to cry.

Then, he heard a noise. Footsteps, and a faint voice.

"Let's see, maybe I can fol-"

Ghost couldn't hear the rest.

Strange sounds began. They slowly got louder. Eventually, a wierd scraping noise happened.

Ghost winced as the coffin lid lifted up, bathing his body in moonlight. He looked down and saw he was nothing more than a mere skeleton.

Ghost looked up, and saw a man with a shovel.

The man's eyes were wide.

Ghost climbed out of the coffin, and looking around.

"Wait, this is my old cattle ranch! The house is intact!"

He entered his old home.

The end.

[EPILOGUE]

Ghost went on to become involved in media, particularly politics. The graverobber eventually visited the world's most renowned psychiatrists and even Pope Paul the Second, but did not recover.