You all know me very well. I'm a bitter, ungrateful old man. I've accepted that statement as I sit down to write this, my last will and testament.

Let me first share a word of warning: If you ruin or neglect the things I give to you, I will use all the opportunities I have in the afterlife to haunt you at your most defenseless, like while you rest on the toilet or in the once-pleasant embrace of an afternoon nap.

To my nephew Jacob, I leave my lavish collection of antique jigsaw puzzles. I have taken the liberty of mixing all of the puzzles together. Please notify my lawyer of any missing pieces, and she will try her best to track them down.

To Eugene, my archnemesis, I leave the Cursed Ruby of Herstmonceux Castle, without its lead carrying case. I also leave you my collection of Seinfeld DVDs because I know how much you hate that show.

To Gloria, my beautiful wife, I leave my everlasting love. This is an eternal gift, and far too great a responsibility for one person to handle. I request that you share this equally among my ex-wives, past flings, the supermarket cashiers whom I've winked at, and the scores of prostitutes whom I frequented in my very long life.

To Little Christopher Langraf, my cat, I leave the limousine that you were so fond of lying upon. You won't have my support in the future, so I will also leave you my chaffeur's outfit and hat. You can make a decent living giving rides to and from the Las Vegas airport.

My empire I bequeath to the homeless man who sleeps wrapped in a child's blanket on its steps. I do this not because I think he deserves it, not because he once did me a favor or bought me a hot dog, not because it will teach him a lesson, or reunite him with his family. Rather, I understand he is a solitary person with a sour personality and short temper. I want to be remembered as a good boss, and the only way for me to do so is find a truly absymal replacement.

Finally, like the nobles of yesteryear, I'd like to give away everything else in a reality show I've titled "Grab His Riches, Bitches."

FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE,
Christopher O. Langraf