And When I Die...

I should fuck them all, leave them nothing of my ten million dollar estate and donate every penny to.. Sal paused as his mind ran through the variety of charities that were more worthy than his family. Yes, to ASPC. Sal, c’mon. Are you really that heartless and cruel?  Yes and no, but hell not one of them, even the wife, deserves a dime. Sal took a deep breath as he stared down at the blank piece of paper that would soon become his last will and testament.

He took his vintage fountain pen, the one he’s owned for over thirty years and used to ink the deal over twenty eight years ago that later became known as Sal’s Scrap Yard and Metal Emporium. He smiled as he always does when he reflects on the word ‘Emporium.’ Agnes had come up with it to set what really was just a scrap yard of junked cars, twisted metal and piles of discarded appliances and machines into something a bit more unique than his competition. It worked. Business flooded in from day one. He dipped the pen’s nib into the inkwell, pumped ink into the cartridge and sighed as he put the nib of the pen to paper then paused for a moment. This is unfair to me. Why should I be judged upon my death by what I bequeath to each family member? My life was much more than building a business from nearly scratch into a ten million dollar entity. Besides, not one of them deserve anything. Nothing! Calm down. Take a breath. Remember, nothing will matter in the end. You’ll be dead. And so it begins, the last will and testament of me.  Sal starts writing.

I, Sal Heritage, being of sound mind hereby write my last will and testament. 

To George, my eldest son, I leave ten dollars. Sal had to stop himself a moment waiting for his laughter to subside. “Whew!” I should really leave him a buck. In pennies. That would piss him off even more.  I leave you George this stately sum not because I don’t like you, but because of the pain and anguish you caused to both your mother and I. You nearly ran my business to the ground when I put you in charge after you got expelled from college, siphoned off more than I care to mention and at age 29 remain living with us, your parents. So, it’s time to strap a set on and make your own way in the world like I did. 

What a disaster he turned out to be. The little shit doesn’t even deserve the ten bucks. But he’s got his mother. I know Agnes will silently agree with me though she’d never tell George how she thinks. After all, she’ll play the saintly mother role and protect her first child as she’s done all his life. Hmmm. If I leave most of the cash to Agnes what will prevent her from supporting George until he’s fifty or beyond?  I’ll have to think on that issue.

 Next. Julia. I wish I could see her face as Harvey reads off the will concerning her selfish self. To Julia, my only daughter, I bequeath my 1967 Jaguar XKE along with a $100 Sunoco gas card. Use the card wisely since you are never at home and when you are at home you exercise the only trait you have acquired perfectly since your 23 years of existing on this Earth. And that is of a spoiled brat who wants and wants yet never gives. Make sure you wreck the Jag around Dead Man’s Curve. I know how much you love speed. In fact, wasn’t your license taking away two months ago for speeding for what, the sixth time? One more caveat. If you’re thinking of selling the Jag you won’t be able to. The title is in the name of Harvey Jenkins my attorney. Remember him. He’s the one reading my will right now to you and who bailed you out two years ago for your DUI and who is under strict instructions never, I mean never, to sign the title over to you. 

Damn Sal. You’re turning out to be a real prick. “Am I! Maybe I’ve always been one! Resentment is what it is that my own blood turned out to be so, so ..Forget it.” He looked about his library to see if anyone could of overheard his outburst and saw no one.  “Keep it to yourself Sal.” He stared down at where he stopped writing. 

What do they expect? I worked my ass off to make the scrap yard into a mega million dollar business. Not one of the kids wanted to help. George made a feeble attempt yet ended up to being a crook. A cheat and…don’t go there. Remember your blood pressure. Fuck the blood pressure. You’re here writing your will. Death could knock at any moment. What did the doc say? “Sal, it’s cancer. At most with chemo you have four months.” That was three months ago. 

He took out a cigar from his humidor, lit it then took a long sip of his Double Eagle bourbon. “This I’ll miss. At nearly 40 grand a bottle every sip is heaven. Heaven. Hell. Do they even exist? And how will I know? No. You die. You die. Period.” He took another sip and let the bourbon roll about his mouth before swallowing. “What you should do is charter a plane, fly to Vegas and just let go man. I mean just rip that town a new asshole. “ He pondered that statement for a while. “But you won’t, will you?” 

He re-filled his pen’s cartridge with more ink, took a hit of his cigar and stared down at what he had written so far. “Christ Sal, they’re your kids. Yeah they are,” he answered himself. “But they’re not what I expected kids to be. Where did we go wrong or was it me? Was I too hard on them?” 

He set the nib of his pen to paper, paused.  And now for Agnes. The last wheel in the cog. 

To my beloved Agnes who at times gnawed at my very soul while at other times soothed it with her constant, unforgiving love I leave the house, the scrap yard. He stopped. Now what? I’ll tell you what. She was a bitch. Don’t sugar coat it. Sure she was everything in the beginning working as my secretary, accountant and business advisor when I first bought the scrap yard, but something happened after Julia was born. She became…don’t think it Sal. Sal set the pen down and took another sip of bourbon. “If I leave her everything she’ll give the kids money, sell the house which she hates as she has told me more than a hundred times and hire some ya who to run the scrap yard or worse, sell it. But if I leave her nothing, well, not nothing, she does deserve something.. Hold on asshole. Did you forget you’ll be dead when she gets this?  Anyhow, do you really care what the hell happens to everything when you’re gone? Huh!”

Sal downs his drink and pours himself another. The pain from the cancer in his stomach from each sip he takes feels as if the liquor is burning through his flesh. “You feel that. That’s what’s missing in your kids and Agnes. Sacrifice. Suffering. Pain.” He swirls the bourbon about his glass. “Yeah. Agnes had those things in the beginning, but we were young then. Working as a team for the best for both of us. What happened to us?” His eyes began to water up. He was struggling to keep his composure as he waged a mental and emotional war against himself. “I’m not really a bad person. At least I can die with a clear conscience knowing I did my best at whatever I did. Can’t I?” He took another sip and cringed this time as it went down. “So be it then. She gets a million and that’s it. After all, she sleeps in another room. We barely talk when we do see each other and” He wiped away his tears. “She’s cheating on you. It’s a fact and you know it so don’t deny it. The Private Dick you hired showed you the photos.” 

He looked down at the will to see where he left off. Read it and sent a thick black line through what he had written. “Fuck her.” 

To Agnes. I know you’re cheating on me. You get a million. I’ve already instructed Harvey not to give you a dime more. 

As for the rest of my estate, whatever cash I have I give to no one for there won’t be a dime left after I get through with it.

He sets the pen down and re-reads what he has written.  If I’m going to go, I’m going to really go!

Sal takes a deep breath, finishes off his drink grimacing as he does so then signs the will. He flicks the long ash off his cigar and takes out his cell phone. “Call Harvey.”

“Harvey. Sal. It’s done. Yes Harvey. My final will. Now here’s what I want you to do. Charter a jet. Yes, a fucking jet stocked with plenty of food. I’ll bring my own bourbon. Make sure the jet’s has lobster, filet Mignon, shrimp and whatever else goes with them. Find the best hotel and casino in Monte Carlo and book me the best room they have for a month. Yes. A month. I don’t give a damn if it cost ten thousand a night, just do it. Oh, and send them a line of credit for nine million. That’s right. Nine mil. And when I’m gone sell the scrap yard and the house. No Harvey, not that gone. When I get to Monte Carlo sell everything. What. I can’t sell the house. Shit. I forgot her name’s on the deed. All right. She can have it then. She hates it anyhow Just tie up probate so she can’t sell it the day after I died.  I’ll add that to my will as well as a provision to pay you three hundred grand. That should cover the cost of the jet and such plus your fees. It’s not too much. Just do what I told you to do. You got everything? Good. Now get your ass over here and notarize this will before Agnes and the brats find out what I’ve done. Yes. I’ll write in everything we just discussed. And Harvey, if I never told you, thanks for all you’ve done for me over the years. I can say for a fact, you are a true friend. Thanks.” 

Sal ends the call. He pours another drink and leans back in his chair. I feel good, real good. This feels right. If I have to go, I’ll go on my own terms. Leave nothing behind Sal. Nothing.