Last Will and Testament

Good evening (part of my last wishes is for you to be reading this during the evening).

If you're reading this it means I have died. It also means you have misplaced my video will. Great job, numbskulls. I spent a lot of time practicing the dance routine at the beginning of that video and now nobody will ever see it. I kept telling myself "those groin reconstruction surgeries weren't for nothing, Andrew. As soon as the world sees your flying toe touches it'll all be worth it." But now you morons have ruined that.

I can only hope that I died in a really cool way. If I choked to death trying to do that magic trick where you pull the endless rope of handkerchiefs out of your mouth then I would kindly ask you to think up something else for my obituary. That's just embarrassing. I recommend telling people that I jumped on a live grenade that someone had thrown into a crowd of Boy Scouts, and in doing so I landed mouth first on a handkerchief rope, choking on it. But I saved those Boy Scouts.

First things first. In the seventh grade Nathan Morris asked me if he could have my GameBoy. I told him he would have to pry it from my cold dead hands. Well Nathan, I haven't forgotten our deal. I would like for special arrangements to be made with the mortician to put my GameBoy in my hands for Nathan to take during the open casket visitation. Make sure he gives me a good tight grip. I don't want Nathan to think I'm a sissy.

I have also contacted an engineering and hydraulics company to build a special rig for my body that will allow me to actually spin in my grave. It is operated by a remote control which I am leaving to my beautiful wife, so that when our children misbehave she can push it while muttering "your father is spinning in his grave right now." If you see guys in mechanic's jumpsuits fiddling around with my body during the service, do not worry. They are just attaching the hydraulics. It should also be noted that the same company is rigging a second device so that if anyone messes with my tombstone a different mechanism will send my clenched skeletal fist bursting up from the soil, hopefully giving off the impression that I'm rising from the grave and scaring off the would-be vandals.

As per family tradition, there will be several decoy graves planted in various places across the city. Please make sure to show the same amounts of remorse and sadness at each fake funeral as you do at the actual funeral.

To my lovely daughter Annabelle I bequeeth (did I spell that right? Is it bequethe? Again, I wish you hadn’t lost the video, because I just had to SAY the word. I didn’t have to worry about spelling it) my golf clubs, the tongues out of all my shoes, my array of evening gowns from my “Tranny-curious” phase, my prized “Jockstraps of the World” collection, and last but not least the key to my BMW. I know that is something you’ve always loved and will take great care of. To my son Melvin, I am leaving you the actual BMW itself. Whenever you feel like driving it just ask to borrow the key from your sister.

I want to take a moment to apologize to my family for never telling you about my secret second family. I imagine this must be an awkward first meeting for all of you today. I’m glad I’M not there...yikes. Likewise, I want to apologize to my secret third family for leading you guys to believe that you’ve been my secret second family all this time. I’m also sorry that I named every son Melvin and every daughter Annabelle, which likely makes my earlier Will stipulations confusing, but I’m confident you guys can tell which persons I intended those items for.

And finally we come to the part I know you’ve all gathered here for. I am confident you all are eager to find out to whom I am leaving my most prized possession, an object of my very own invention. I’m talking about, of course, my Fondue Maker/Doomsday Machine. All of you scoffed at me and laughed at the countless hours I spent in my basement lab constructing the device, but who was the one laughing when the FBI raided our home looking for it and I was able to convince them it was merely a harmless kit for melting cheese and chocolate? It was me! I was the one with my head thrown back, laughing maniacally, for being able to fool them! And it was only because of that laughter that the FBI agents, who I forgot were still in the room at the time, became suspicious and discovered the uranium dipping forks, subsequently confiscating the machine. So obviously none of you will be getting that bekweethed(?) to them.

So that’s it. Some of you may be asking yourselves “That’s it? Didn’t he have a house? What about the private jet he used to fly around? I thought there’d be more to give away than this.” Well I’m embarrassed to admit that I was sexting while flying one day and I crashed the jet into the house. They both were destroyed in the ensuing inferno, so they’re gone, I’m sorry to say.

I leave you with this advice, and I hope it guides each of you on your journeys: You would think the shower would be an excellent place to teach yourself how to moonwalk, when in fact, it's a terribly dangerous one. Please be careful. I love you all.

-Andrew

PS: In the event that I faked my own death and I’m still alive, I’m going to need my jockstrap collection back.