On a dark lane in a small town there lived a peculiar man, a man with a problem.

He couldn’t stop laughing.

It didn’t matter the time. Or the day.

He laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

He laughed until his predicament started to annoy the others around town. The chased him from cafes, the movie theatre, and especially the library. In fact his picture hung on the wall at the library, and he’d drawn the ire of every librarian there.

So he kept to himself. In his small home at the end of the lane at the very edge of town. He laughed alone, in his house, even though there was rarely something funny. If you walked by at night when it was quiet you could hear it emanating from the small house.

For a few days, he found salvation. So he thought. There was a new comedy club in town, and the man who couldn’t stop laughing fit in perfectly. He was a comedians dream after all.

For a little while.

But he’d keep laughing well through the jokes, and the before the comedians even got onstage. He laughed in line at the club, and he laughed in between sets.

He was quickly told not to come back. They watched the man who couldn’t stop laughing walk home. They’d feel bad if he’d giggle, or chuckled, but his pronounced cackling drove everyone mad.

One day, the man who owned the bakery died. There was a funeral at the town church and everyone attended.

Even the man who couldn’t stop laughing went. He thought it’d be rude to skip the service and planned on staying until they sent him away.

But they didn’t.

In fact, the man didn’t laugh. Nothing, nary a snicker escaped his mouth. He didn’t even smile.

It seems like the solemn occasion took hold of his particular problem and depressed the pronounced effects.

For a few hours he was normal.

Until, of course, the funeral ended. The laughing returned. The townspeople watched the sad man as his laughter took ahold of him once more.

He went back to his small house at the end of the lane.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited, for the next funeral to happen. All he wanted was a few moments to keep mis madness in check. He’d give his life for a minute of silence.

He got his wish a few months later. The mayor’s wife died and it was a large affair. Everyone gathered to pay their respects. But the man who couldn’t stop laughing tried to hide his excitement. He sat there in the pew. Silent as a mouse.

And after the funeral he went back home to wait again. This time though, he couldn’t take it. He needed to stop laughing even for just a few moments.

He needed more funerals.

And one by one, the townspeople started meeting with accidents. First, it was a funeral a month. Quickly, it rose to a funeral a week. Each time the man who couldn’t stop laughing was there. Quiet as could be.

Then, accidents were two slow. The townspeople started meeting violent ends. A murder here, a drowning there. One by one the people dropped. The graves diggers were working over time, and the minister started reusing sermons.

All the while, the man who couldn’t stop laughing sat there enjoying his moments of peace.

It went on and on until it was just the man who couldn’t stop laughing holding vigil over the last townsperson left. He had to dig the grave himself.

As he walked away, he started to laugh. He kept walking past his small home at the end of the lane.

In fact he walked right on to the next town.

Because the man who couldn’t stop laughing wanted to stop, and for that he’d need more funerals.