The Last Will and Testiment of Minigan Douglas Blackwood

Listen, folks. I’m not going to be around forever. I know; this really sucks for you. But this is something that you will just have to accept. But to help you get through, I decided to let everyone know what they will be getting from my will when I die. Now, I don’t expect to die for some time, so I decided write my will in advance because I don’t want to deal with it later. And I don’t ever have any intention of editing this, so I’ll be making assumptions about my future. Good luck to you all.
The Last Will and Testiment of Minigan Douglas Blackwood
I, Lord Minigan Douglas Blackwood Esq., Doctor of Awesome, being of sound mind and body (“Sound Mind” being a relative phrase here), do bequeath the my worldly possessions to the following:
To my current wife, I am giving you the greatest gift I can give anyone: an eternity with me. You are to be euthanized, stuffed, and placed in my tomb. I have already picked out a taxidermist and the position you will forever be posed. You will be butt naked and posed like a roaring bear. And if for some crazy reason you don’t want to be stuffed and placed in my tomb, I have advised my butler, Geoffrey, to hit you with a tranquilizer dart. Get her now Geoffrey.
To Geoffrey I give you your reparations for the years of loyal service. Since you worked for me for the past thirty years without pay, the total should come to twelve hundred dollars. This will not be adjusted for inflation. Also, as my last gift to you, I shall return your family to you. Now that I am gone, I do not need leverage to keep you working for me. I thank you for all of your hard work and also for not poisoning me over all these years. (Note: If Geoffrey was responsible for my death in any way, I want his family killed by either suffocation with hot tar or heavy metal poisoning.

That’s close, but not exactly what I was talking about.

To my ex-wives Sheila, Bethany, Yau Kim, and Francesca, I leave each of you a house and a camera crew for your own reality TV program. Please note that I said one house and one camera crew. You will be sharing the house, and the show will be about you four living together and trying to get over the fact that I dumped your asses for one another. The house you will be living in is my mansion off the cost of Barcelona, Spain. You know, the one where I proposed to each one of you. You will also aquire the area around the house: the mile of beach, the golf course that I had built as part of my, “building golf courses” phase, and the small town there all the servants work. Also, I will have a wax replica of my current wife placed in each bedroom. I know how much you ladies loved her (spitting at someone is a term of endearment, right?), so I hope that this makes up for the fact that you’ll never see her again after today. If grief over comes you and you try to get rid of the statues, You’ll be thrown in the cobra pit that will be installed on site. I have signed a contract with VH1 (I tried Bravo, but none of my gay friends wanted to be secondary characters on a reality TV show), and have given them $500,000 for a 5 year run. You cannot back out of this, because you agreed to this when you signed the divorce papers (I snuck the clause in there at the last second), and if you back out, then you get taxidermied and stuffed into my tomb as well. But do not think that you will not get paid for being on the show! Everything will be paid for, from your food, to the utilities, to the topless wait staff, and you will receive $10,000 per episode. I don’t know if that’s good or not; I just pulled a number out of my ass. After the 5 years are up, and if you were entertaining enough to warrant a sixth season, it will be your choice to decide if you want to continue the show. If you, out of spite, try to force the show off the air, I have given permission to VH1 to find horrible things to do to you four in order to keep things interesting. The friendly folks at VH1 are pretty fucked up, so you might want to keep things interesting (They’re planning a sprinkler system that sprays out tarantulas).
To my Children: Journey, Salamander, Gatorade, Chlamydia, and Ω I leave you half of my remaining monetary estate, the Blackwood Estate (or as you know it, the mansion you grew up in), as well as any of the profits that come from my book sales. There is, however, a catch. You will be locked in the house and you will have to fight to the death. The winner will be named as my primary benefactor. Also, all of the illegitimate children I had over the years (upwards of 50) will also be locked in the house with you. Only one can be crowned the winner, and he/ she will be the smartest, bravest, and strongest of them all. This may sound familiar to you, and that’s because that is essentially the premise of The Hunger Games novels, which I made you read and watch the movies because I totally played Finnick Odair in the movies. Yes, I did rip off The Hunger Games for this, but it only seems fair seeing as though that was how I became rich and famous in the first place. If you were a clever child and discovered my secret passage ways around the estate, then you have a severe advantage over everyone else, but be warned: If you try to leave the estate through the escape passage, you will be shot dead. No child of mine will be a cheater. Also, you will not be allowed to use outside weapons. The only kind of killing device you will be permitted to use will be the ones you find around the estate. Luckily for one of you, the trident that I used in the movie will still be in the house, so who ever reaches it first will be able to use it. And be careful! I also have set up booby traps. I wish each of you good luck, and I hope that you use this notice to prepare yourselves for the oncoming battle and not to run and hide, because that will spell you imminent and painful demise.
To my dearest friend James T. Kohlberg, I would like to apologize for not actually knowing what your middle name is, so I just guessed with the T. I like to think that it stands for Tiberius. Anyway, I want to thank you for coming out of your shack in the woods to be at my funeral and will reading. If I were alive, I’d hug you. Anyway, to you I give every single one of my expansive weapon collection. Everything from the aforementioned trident, to my lightning sword, to the machete you gave me, to my zombie club. However, you cannot have any of these until after all of my children have fought to the death. Once the winner has been named, the weapons will be collected and given to you. Please note that I would give you a significant portion of my monetary estate, however, due to your recent voluntary exile from society, that money would be useless to you. Instead, I am giving you a 200 acre patch of wilderness that will be entirely yours to hunt, fish, trap as you see fit. This will be a fenced in area, and no one will be permitted access. If, by chance, a person does break into your woods, then you can decide the punishment for said trespasser. That means that if you want to make said woman/ man/ child your wife, you are well within your rights to do so. You’re welcome.
I would like my third home: my castle in Germany, to be a museum dedicated to me. All of my important artifacts (or replicas of some, like my trident) will be housed there. As for the rest of my houses and belongings, it may be divided amongst my family and friends. I would like $10,000 to be saved from my estate, along with what belongings of mine that nobody claims. Of the $10,000, half of it should be spent on food. Then all of it should be placed in a large pile in some lower class neighborhood and set on fire. I want this done so that the poor hilariously try to salvage some of the burning things that they so desperately need. That should teach them a lesson about messing with the rich.
And that is my Last Will and testament. I don’t know how these end, so I’ll end it with a song lyric that seems fitting:

“Everybody stops and they staring at me
I got passion in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it

I’m sexy and I know it”-LMFAO

True poets

Peace (for me)


Leave a comment

No comments yet.

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

  • I am this popular!

    • 97,903 hits
  • Blast from the Past!

    May 2012
    S M T W T F S
    « Apr   Jun »
  • The Vault