" Get out of here, all of you," I continued. "This grave has been paid for by me and it belongs to nobody else. I died and am allowed to organize my funeral as I
see fit. So, begone! My home is my castle and I will not tolerate any trespassers."

"It's a scandal!" cried the decorated one. "A scandal without precedent!"

A Public Prosecutor turned to me. "These inanities should be called to a halt," he hissed. "I arrest you in the name of the law, and I command the policemen to do their duty!"

The policemen descended into the hole and placed their broad paws on my shoulder. But I looked at them sharply and said: "Have you no respect for the dead?"

"But he is not dead! This is a complete sham!" a particularly brave Judge's apprentice cried out.

"Ah, I beg your pardon!" I laughed, handing over my death certificate to the policemen. "Here, see for yourself. And in case the coroner's report is not sufficient you can always have a whiff, old donkey that you are."

The decorated one leaned towards me. "The devil!" he exclaimed, hastily drawing back.

"Please keep your distance, Sir," I admonished him. "Do I have to remind you of your whereabouts? It is a red-hot day in July, close to noon and you are in the presence of a corpse. I have every right to stink!"

"My Burial "

― Hanns Heinz Ewers , Nachtmahr: Strange Tales