I, Fred Mynes, of Lunati County, Ohio, declare this to be my last will and testament and hereby revoke any and all Wills and Codicils at any time heretofore made by me.
I declare that I am not married and have no children, and that this state of existence is a direct result of my ability to read minds. The mind book opens when I touch someone, so I’ve learned to prevent touching at all costs. Mom, Dad, my sisters… all of them touched me at one time or another. It’s a relief to have them gone, but it makes the bequeathing process more of a reach. I’m practically that dude who bequests his million dollar estate to a waitress, except I don’t have a million dollars. And I don’t eat much– I mean out much. I have a cat and a car, last I knew.
I direct that any and all funeral expenses be paid out of my estate, that my body be cremated and my ashes dropped from the top of the Twin Towers in New York. And I don’t want any lip about it. All things are possible to them that believe. Jesus said that. And it’s my dying wish. Dying wishes take precedence.
I hereby confirm my intention that my estate be bequeathed to the following individuals, each of whom have minds worthy of their respective gifts. I should know; I’ve read them the way you’re reading this now.
I give Dee Holme, absolutely and in fee simple, my cat, Kiskable. We met in the checkout line of PetCo back in ’89. Remember, Dee? You were getting a new pair of clippers for Fluffy because the others got dull, and clippers can’t be sharpened, you said. What a waste, you said. And you said, no cat should be tortured with de-clawing– it’s like having your fingertips ripped off at the first knuckle. Goosebumps, Dee. I was buying fish flakes and I didn’t expect you to touch me, but you backed into me while I was distracted by beta fish. When I read your mind, I saw all the cats. You tried to keep up with them, but there are only twenty-four hours in a day. I should have known something was fishy when you said your old nail clipper got dull. One cat or even several cats don’t dull a nail clipper. It takes dozens of them to do that.
…I bequeath my cat to Dee because I know she won’t refuse. Just be sure to use the cat carrier, no matter what the vet says. I’ve been peed on more times between the parking lot and the vet office. The last straw was when my vet advised against using the carrier because it was too cold outside. I protested. Kiskable peed on me every time she came under the canopy of sky, such was her irrational fear of the outdoors. The vet pushed on Kiskable’s bladder. Totally empty, he said. She’ll be warmer in your coat.
That was a leather jacket.
The vet (I used rubber gloves so I wouldn’t see his mind) is buried behind the Salvation Army, just few feet into the wooded area. I give him absolutely and in fee simple to the state of Ohio for investigative purposes.
I give Rob Hurr, absolutely and in fee simple, my Ford Festiva. It’s dinged up like a smallpox survivor, but it runs good. We met at the Seven Eleven, remember? You pulled an airsoft pistol with a painted tip and– until you struck me with it, I thought it was real. Just the first digit of your middle and ring fingers swept my temples as you raked the gun across my skull. Yes, I blacked out, but not before I got a good look at you. Your mind, that is. I figure you could use some solid transportation, nothing flashy in your neck of the woods, just something to get around. Sounds nuts that I’d want to reward you after what you did to me. But I saw you before the world threw you down the way it does sometimes.
Your daddy didn’t mean to orphan you. The blood spout surprised him as much as her, so slippy was the pistol in his hand. Slick like life. Your daddy was just waving it around trying to scare her so she’d know what being scared felt like, and mark this– being next to someone afraid is the most dangerous place on planet earth. I should know. I read minds. So absolutely and in fee simple, I give my car to Rob because I believe in the redemptive power of humanity unless a leather jacket is involved and have always considered my Ford Festiva a safe place. Hope you do, too. If you find any cat toys under the seats, kindly forward them to Dee Holmes.
I give Dr. Kiehl, absolutely and in fee simple, my shoe laces. He took them away when they admitted me, and put his (he thought) comforting hand on my shoulder after I warned him not to touch me in any way or I’d know everything about him. The man speeds, to the tune of fifteen miles/hour over the limit. Therefore, I direct that Dr. Kiehl be eaten in small bites by thousands of carpenter ants over a period not to exceed three months, equivalent to my time here. Don’t give me lip, either. All things are possible to them that believe. Jesus said that. I just need a little help from my friends in Block B for Bad. Not my name. The nurses came up with it long before I got here. Just coordinate your efforts and tie him down, those of you who have shoelaces. Then the ants will come. It’s my dying wish, and dying wishes take precedence.
It’s been a hoot doing all this directing and bequeathing– feels a bit heady, like I’m God or something. I like controlling stuff so much that I’ll be enacting this document as soon as I finish it. You’ll find it stapled it to my gown. (Please return the stapler to Dr. Kiehl’s office.)
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have signed my name on this 30th day of June, 2016, declaring and publishing this instrument as my Last Will in the presence of these witnesses and others present but not visible to the naked eye.
Fred Mynes, Testator
Witness: K. Ray Sea, Room #14, bed A
Witness: Lou Ni, Room #3, bed A