Inherit the Wind

I just like to keep to myself, not bothering anyone, no one bothering me. I have been that way ever since an extremely embarrassing incident my last year of high school. I was on the stage in a minor part in a serious play, a drama that owing to this incident became more of a comedy, a farce.  

Recently, I have had a pushy lawyer pursuing me on my cell phone, on my landline, on both my e-mail addresses, and even through the mail. What next? Carrier pigeon? It is crazy. He told me that he wanted me to meet him at his office for “a matter of extreme importance”, but that he was “not permitted to divulge” what the subject of the meeting is. Who divulges anyway?

Finally I had to give in, and went to meet him at his office. What he told me there completely threw me for a loop. Apparently I have this great-uncle Ralph, whom I have never heard of before. He is my mother’s uncle. When I was growing up I never saw much of her family. They were rich, and very snobby. My father could not stand them, and my mother wasn’t all that crazy about them either. They had pretty much disowned her for marrying my father, or so I have been told. I may have met great-uncle Ralph, but I seriously doubt it.

           So apparently, Uncle Ralph made up his will about a year ago, and I was to inherit something. I can’t imagine what and I can’t imagine why. He died two weeks ago, and I was to attend the reading of the will next Saturday. The lawyer said that it would be very foolish of me not to attend. 

           The lawyer made me fill out a highly detailed and complicated questionnaire. First, I had to complete what turned out to be a very complicated family tree. It was difficult, but I felt that such complication meant that I might be receiving something significant.

           The strangest question I had to address was to describe in some detail the most embarrassing experience I had when I was a teenager attending high school. I had to write this out in 200 words or more.  This wasn’t difficult, as the incident I had in mind, and perhaps Uncle Ralph (as I was now calling him) had in mind as well, was obvious. Then I had to describe the effect that this embarrassing experience had had on me. Again this had to be written in 200 words or more. Again, that wasn’t as difficult as it might sound. I knew that it had a profound effect on the rest of my life. I wasn’t born to be a recluse.

           When I had done all this the lawyer stated that he would go through the material and determine whether I was the person that was written up in the will. He would call me about it. If I were that person, then I would be attending the reading of the will – with great expectations possible as to the effect that it would have in my life.

           The next morning dragged on slowly. I had my phone in my pocket all of the time, and I had the loudest ring possible programmed. It was three thirty in the afternoon when I finally received the call. The lawyer used few words in the short conversation that we had. Yes, I qualified. My joy at those words was squashed somewhat by what he said next. 

           “There will be another test before you will be permitted to get what is promised to you. It is not anything that you have to answer. It is an act of great difficulty that you will have to perform. There will be a witness attending, my secretary. From what I have read in your account, I know that this will be very difficult. But believe me, it will be worthwhile.”

The Reading of the Will

It was the day of the reading of the will. I was excited, but also tense. What would I possibly be receiving? And what “act of great difficulty” would I have to perform? Why would there need to be a witness? Clearly my word would not be considered sufficient proof. That was worrying, to be sure.

When I arrived as the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will, there was no one that I knew there, except for the lawyer and his secretary, the latter whom I had been introduced to when I was last in the office

We all settled in, and the lawyer began to read out the will. He first read out the names of people who were more closely related to Uncle Ralph than I was. They received what I could best call bits and pieces, an old car, his well-used furniture, a collection of bear-themed mugs, but not significant monetary sums. There were also short character assassinations concerning how small-minded Uncle Ralph thought that the individuals mentioned were. Obviously, nobody was happy. But then nobody left. They knew that he had died a wealthy man. They wanted to know who it was that they would be resenting, and possibly suing . I couldn’t say that I blamed them.

Then the time came that I had been waiting for. It seemed that I was the last one on the list, unless there was someone yet to arrive who would get a bundle.

I will remember these words forever. “For Will Scott, my great nephew whom I never met personally, but heard one very interesting story about, there will be the lump sum of three million dollars. But in order to qualify for it, he will have to earn it with a performance that I know he would not like to give. If he doesn’t earn it, the money will go straight to the corporate coffers of the company that I grew from nothing, and which profited mightily. I don’t particularly like the people running the company now, them, but I like my family members less.”

The Performance

So, I returned to ‘the scene of the crime’, the place at which I had been emotionally scarred for life. My stomach was growling, but not just because of my nerves. I stood behind the curtains  I had entered through an outside door that had to my knowledge never been locked during my time at the high school, something which still held true.

There was an assembly starting up in the auditorium. The whole school was there. The place was packed. The student crowd restless.  The principal began his speech, talking extensively about what the new school year would hold for students and staff. About five minutes into this monologue, I parted the curtains, and stepped into full view. Here I was, where, as a bit-part actor I literally blew my role in the play, ruining the mood of  the serious plot, and deeply affecting my social personality for the rest of my life. Having caught the attention of the assembly audience, I now set out to do deliberately, what had been purely accidental the first time. I walked up close to a second microphone, turned it on, tested in with a tap of my hand, and then, did the deed. I bent over slightly, and then boldly, loudly, and shamelessly farted. The chilli I had gorged on the day before had had its desired effect.

This was followed by a burst of laughter from the students, probably a few teachers, and I suspect from the lawyer’s secretary, whom I knew would be there as the official witness. I scrambled off stage and out the hidden door.

And that is my story. You can publish however much of it as you want. I couldn’t be embarrassed more by having it printed in the local paper. I am a rich man now, so I don’t care.