Death is no respecter of age, therefore I write this will on this the first day of March, 2010, in the twenty fourth year of my life.
The first orders of business are, of course, the funeral arrangements. I trust that these details will be followed meticulously by loved ones left behind.
To start with I would like to address my post life wardrobe. It is my wish to enter the incinerator wearing a white smock with a hole sewed in the middle to properly display my Tom Selleck tattoo with its nipple to nipple long mustache.
Secondly I want a man of African descent, preferably one who spent his childhood in the broncs, to do my hair and touch up prior to both the viewing and the incineration. I request this not as an advocate of equality, but because I want my limbs arranged in a particular gang sign which will be revealed to him via a sealed envelope.
Thirdly are the floral arrangements, if they can be called “floral.” I would like dried mangoes to be scattered all over my body like falling rose petals, and around my neck shall be placed a garland of green tinted, under ripe bananas. This arrangement will be carried out for both the viewing and the incineration. I would like this task to be performed by some local orphans.
Number four; as indicated above I would like to be incinerated, body, fruit, tattoo, smock, and all. The only exemption will be my thumbs and my tongue, for reasons that will be revealed shortly. The following instruction is to be kept strictly confidential: I would like my dear sweet wife, AnneMarie, to secret my ashes into the funeral parlor and use them to fill the salt and pepper shakers of said house of death. This will be done in order to ensure that all attendees leave with a bit of me to take home with them. And as an added bonus, by virtue of the fruit content of my ashes, all will be cured of the constipation caused by the chili and funeral potatoes that will be served.
I believe that concludes the funeral arrangements, which leaves the accounting and distribution of all I possess to be dealt with.
First and foremost I would like to leave my inability to grow a decent mustache to Shad Seitz, who is ahead in that department.
Second is my sense of accomplishment. This I would like to leave to my dear cousin, Shane Tye, who, to my knowledge, has accomplished nothing.
Third and fourth are my senses of humor and direction which go to Christopher Tye, that he may laugh when he can’t find his way.
Fifth item shall be my utter sense of serenity and calm while in traffic. This I leave to my Uncle Mark, who needs it badly.
Number six: I leave my ability to count to Matthew Glaittli.
Tenth item is my conscience. I would like to leave this encumbrance, this tie to reality to Rachel Inkley, so that she can have a bit more room to breathe…
To Jeffrey Maw I leave the seventh item; my thumbs. What greater gift than an extra thumb for each hand? If our single set of thumbs set us apart from the lower life forms, than surely this act will set Jeff above all living, earth bound creatures.
Eighteen: I leave my tongue to Elizabeth Glaittli, so that she can say something that is not a movie line.
Last, but certainly not least I leave my children to my loving, beautiful wife Anne, to love, support, and pay for, without my help. Good luck and sorry babe. This is my last will and testament. Remember, I live on in you. Literally.