Slap & Tickle

Where There’s a Will I Want to Be in it, Not Writing It

So, I finished my will last night. Or is it my last will and testament night? Actually, it’s more like a last will, testament, and ‘comedy stylings’ of Chris. I found it hard to be serious throughout. While I did get a little misty when I was thanking my parents for their kindness and my friends for being supportive, however, when it came to giving my stuff away, how do I know if anyone is going to want my junk?

About a year ago, there was a fire in the building behind our place, and my sister and I rushed into our place to take our “valuables.” I ran into my room and looked around frantically… I tried to calm myself down because I thought I was too frazzled to focus enough to actually lock on to something to save. Then I realized that I don’t own anything of value.

Sure, there are many things of sentimental value and lots of “ironic” items, but nothing that can’t be replaced—or one would need to have replaced. I will say the porn represents a significant investment on my part, but I wouldn’t call it value. And who am I leaving that to? My Republican family? “To my mother, I leave my love and good wishes and my DVD of ‘How the West was Hung’.”

So, last night I started looking at crap that means something to me, but on the whole, means nothing to anyone else. I got done and was rather proud of myself that I disseminated all my property. This morning I realized I didn’t mention my CDs or my (non porn) DVDs. There’s a ton of them and I missed them and concentrated on such valuables as framed “art” I printed off the internet…

It’s sad to think that your legacy is porn, crappy art, and 150 Simpsons action figures, a Heinz Ketchup phone, a glow-in-the-dark Madonna, and a collection of obscenely anatomically-correct dolls with names like Carlos and Tyson (guess which one is black?)

However, my biggest concern at this moment is mourners. Frankly, I don’t think there will be enough of them. I want a packed house, but I don’t know if anyone would show up. I don’t have that many friends… and of those that I do have, most will flake. I can just picture Julie saying she had a sore throat… I don’t think I could make that many friends in the next 17 hours, so I just hope those friends that show bring a friend or co-worker along to the funeral. I'm sure my parents will throw a nice reception with lots of food, is that enough of an incentive to go?

Speaking of… I want tears at the funeral. Fake it if you have to, people, but I demand tears! Sobbing would also be appreciated. I request that Scott McCandless shout out “Not Chris! Not Chris!” at some point—he mocked me when I ‘came out,’ saying, “Not you! Not you!” in his most dramatic fashion. Fag. This is your penance buddy (you get 50% of my porn, so you’d better be convincing…)

Other than that, I mainly fear my friends will embarrass me at my funeral: they won’t show up: “Dude, I had a thing…” or when it comes time to say something about me nobody will get up and say anything… or worse they will: “He had the biggest collection of porn…” or “I think he thought he was funnier than he was—maybe it’s best he went before life could crush his dreams completely…” or worst of all, “Christ, he was fat, wasn’t he?” and then it turns into a roast and my ashes are spinning…

I just realized I forgot to mention my TiVo in my will! It’s got a lifetime subscription and that’s worth bucks… man, I had better survive this trip okay, because I’ve still got work to do on my will…