In the event of my tragic, albeit sexy, death, there’s…whatever this is. After meeting with a legal jargon enthusiast, filtering their advice through one of those artificial intelligence sentence-generating algorithms, I drafted a will.
Exhume it may concern,
If you’re reading this, it means I have relocated to the afterlife. Most likely from either a hail of gunfire or an explosion caused by me trying to make my own Jolly Ranchers. I do hope my funeral was tasteful and had little-to-no mourners with basketballs, jumping over the casket because they were finally able to dunk on me.
But enough jerking each other off. These are the inheritance details, Steven Michael Robert Aloysius Steven James Wilber’s final Will & Grace-tament.
To my scenic wife, Natalie Wilber-Musk-Wilber, I bequeath unto you the majority of my assets. You now have control over my fortune, including the Camel Cash, Marlboro Miles and Virginia Slim You’ve-Come-A-Long-Way-Bitcoins. You’ll also receive my Bumfights DVDs, my 24-pack of limited edition Alyssa Milano-designed Brawny Paper towels and my 1968 Corvette seatbelt.
Though you have my liquid and solid assets, my gaseous assets, of course, will be buried with me…that was a death joke. I hope you laughed at that joke. I had to pay Mel Brooks a pretty penny to write it.
To my only son, Dennis Sr., I leave you my collection of rare baseball cards where the printer wasn’t properly aligned. All the greats, from Abe Ruth to Jeter Ken Griff. Unfortunately, they are all horribly warped from the time I took them to that white water swapmeet, so they are monetarily and sentimentally worthless.
To my other only son, Brexit, I leave you, on a 4gb thumb drive that looks like a stick of butter with anime eyes, undeniable evidence proving that Courtney murdered Kurt. That’s right, on that drive, you will find elevator security cam footage of Kourtney Kardashian stabbing former MTV News anchor Kurt Loder to death with her own Louboutin stilettos. It’s pretty gross stuff.
To my best friend and most trusted confidant, country music superstar Kenny Chesney (if read aloud, wink at attendees), I leave you my most prized possession, a 2011 Target brand acoustic guitar, signed by none other than country music superstar, Kenny Chesney.
And finally, I give my $40,000+ of student loan debt/unpaid kimono rental late fees to the last person who reads this. That person then has 12 Earth hours to get someone else to read it, lest the financial obligation is fused to their very soul, the fucking sucker.
See you in Hell (Except you, Kenny. We all know you’re a celestial being, unfettered by the burdens of mortality),
Steven “Steven ‘Laserfang’ Wilber” Wilber
If you’re reading this, it means I have relocated to the afterlife. Most likely from either a hail of gunfire or an explosion caused by me trying to make my own Jolly Ranchers. I do hope my funeral was tasteful and had little-to-no mourners with basketballs, jumping over the casket because they were finally able to dunk on me.
But enough jerking each other off. These are the inheritance details, Steven Michael Robert Aloysius Steven James Wilber’s final Will & Grace-tament.
To my scenic wife, Natalie Wilber-Musk-Wilber, I bequeath unto you the majority of my assets. You now have control over my fortune, including the Camel Cash, Marlboro Miles and Virginia Slim You’ve-Come-A-Long-Way-Bitcoins. You’ll also receive my Bumfights DVDs, my 24-pack of limited edition Alyssa Milano-designed Brawny Paper towels and my 1968 Corvette seatbelt.
Though you have my liquid and solid assets, my gaseous assets, of course, will be buried with me…that was a death joke. I hope you laughed at that joke. I had to pay Mel Brooks a pretty penny to write it.
To my only son, Dennis Sr., I leave you my collection of rare baseball cards where the printer wasn’t properly aligned. All the greats, from Abe Ruth to Jeter Ken Griff. Unfortunately, they are all horribly warped from the time I took them to that white water swapmeet, so they are monetarily and sentimentally worthless.
To my other only son, Brexit, I leave you, on a 4gb thumb drive that looks like a stick of butter with anime eyes, undeniable evidence proving that Courtney murdered Kurt. That’s right, on that drive, you will find elevator security cam footage of Kourtney Kardashian stabbing former MTV News anchor Kurt Loder to death with her own Louboutin stilettos. It’s pretty gross stuff.
To my best friend and most trusted confidant, country music superstar Kenny Chesney (if read aloud, wink at attendees), I leave you my most prized possession, a 2011 Target brand acoustic guitar, signed by none other than country music superstar, Kenny Chesney.
And finally, I give my $40,000+ of student loan debt/unpaid kimono rental late fees to the last person who reads this. That person then has 12 Earth hours to get someone else to read it, lest the financial obligation is fused to their very soul, the fucking sucker.
See you in Hell (Except you, Kenny. We all know you’re a celestial being, unfettered by the burdens of mortality),
Steven “not actually dead” Wilber