The Final Expletive - Steroid Joe's Last Will And Testament

Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. My name is Lawyer D. Esquire, and I've been retained by the family of the deceased to execute his Will, as it seems no one else would agree to do so. Your presence at the reading of the Last Will and Testament of ... [looks at notes]... Steroid Joe, was requested because each of you has been named in the document. Now, I have been briefed on the incident - for lack of a better word - that took place at this man's memorial service, and I just want to implore all of you to behave civilly. I've just had my office redecorated, and I would like to avoid any damage, if at all possible. Okay, let's begin.

"I, Joseph Userov Steroids, being of sound but rage-y mind and body, do hereby declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, blah blah blah." It actually says 'blah blah blah,' ladies and gentlemen. "I officially, lovingly and not at all sarcastically do hereby bequeath the following:

My collection of-- Please don't interrupt; I don't see anything about a Camaro. Okay. My collection of 277 vinyl record albums - to my mother. They're in your basement anyway, Mom. Might as well keep 'em.

My driver's license - to my brother, Andrew. You can use it to get into bars, just like old times. Don't tell Mom.

My collection of DVDs - to my electronic and possibly nonexistent Oklahoma friend, Melanie, with the following exceptions:

• "Hairspray" and "Moulin Rouge" shall go to my niece, Elizabeth, because she's a DANCER. There's a note here that says "Lawyer must read 'because she's a DANCER' the same way John Belushi says the final line of the Saturday Night Live film 'Schiller's Reel: Don't Look Back In Anger.'"
  
• Also, my copy of "Hamlet 2" goes to the Ecker family, so that they can perfect their "Rock Me Sexy Jesus" routine.
• Finally, my 'Futurama' DVDs go to my brother, John, because he's probably the only other person I know who appreciates that show.
  

My VHS-- No, I still don't see anything about the Camaro. Please let me finish. My VHS Rocky and Bullwinkle collection, as well as my Christopher Moore, Douglas Adams and Mark Leyner books - to my friend, co-conspirator, chemist, mason, kiln operator, spokesman, designated driver, reverse ghost writer, mentor, student, manager, bail bondsman, fry cook and guru, Godfrey Ozzenbarq III (not his real name). Mister Ozzenbarq (not your real name), whether or not that is, as you say, bullshit, is neither here nor there. I did not decide who gets what. I am reading what your friend wrote.

My cameras, lenses and accessories - to my beloved [Maris], because she's the only person I can tolerate taking pictures better than my own.

My collection of Lionel trains - to my nephew Kevin, but if he starts deliberately wrecking them, Aunt [Maris] is hereby directed to take them away from him until he is 30 years old.

Ladies and gentlemen, please stop shouting 'Camaro' at me. I am reading exactly what is on these pages. Please.

Any Patron Silver that survives me - goes to my old BossLady, who is responsible for introducing it to [Maris] and me. In the highly-probable event that she doesn't show up for the reading, give it to [Maris]. Actually, never mind - just give it all to [Maris].

My photographs are to be divided between my beloved [Maris], my mother and my sister, Mary. [Maris] is to receive any pretty ones in which the sun is shining, and Mom and Mary are to receive in equal shares all the dark, foggy, rainy or otherwise gloomy ones.

Again, if I see 'Camaro,' you all will be the first to know. Please let me continue.

The comic strip 'Adventures of the Weak, Scared Bug,' which I produced in 8th grade - to my nephew, Danny. If anyone can take that crap and make it work, it's Danny.

My collection of, I don't know, a thousand CDs? - to my friend Jill, because I know she's probably the only one of you who won't just immediately throw 90% of them away, or sell them for $.49 each on eBay.

My various neon, strobe and laser lights - to my sister-in-law, Debbie, because I'm pretty sure she harbors a secret dream of creating a disco in her basement.

People! Please! I can't do this with you chanting 'Camaro, Camaro, Camaro' at me! Thank you.

My red Swingline stapler - to Carrie, because she resisted the urge to steal it for over 3 years, and that can NOT have been easy.

My book of Zombie Haiku - to my friends Trina and Jefferson. Trina gets it on odd-numbered days, and Jefferson gets it on days that end in Y.

My HP Pavilion notebook computer - to my friend Stacy, because her fiancé is an I.T. expert, which will come in very handy since the damn thing has Windows Vista on it.

My old police radio scanner - to my nephew Matthew, because let's face it - if there's anyone in the family who needs to know when the cops are coming, it's Matt. There's a smiley face here, in the margin. What's that, Matthew? Yes, well, he also wrote 'hang in there, buddy,' if that helps.

Okay, the next person who utters the word 'Camaro' is going to be removed. Seriously. Geez. I don't see what all the fuss is, anyway. I'm a Mustang man, myself.

To my sister-in-common-law-if-they-had-that-in-Maryland-but-they-don't, Angela - I leave my margarita glasses, because I don't have any martini glasses.

My tools, power and otherwise - to my nephews Patrick, Timothy and Peter. The three of you are each to select a tool. You will then be locked together in a room. The last one of you who remains standing gets all of the tools.

My 2000 Chevrolet Cavalier Z24 - to my brother-in-law, Tom, because I have every confidence that you can get another 150,000 miles out of that car.

Finally, ah - here it is. Finally, my 2011 Chevrolet Camaro convertible - to my brother-in-law, Mike, because he really likes it. Due to his height, he will only be able to comfortably drive it with the top down, but it'll still be totally worth it.

Okay, now I asked you people to be civil, so please stop swearing at me and put me down! Please! There's more! Please?

Thank you.

In conclusion, I, Joseph Userov Steroids, do hereby officially say 'PSYCHE!' All of the above mentioned stuff - everything I left behind - every last bit of it, goes to Real Joe. Duh. Who did you think would get my stuff? And if Real Joe didn't get it, wouldn't it all just go to [Maris], anyway? What's wrong with you people? Serves you right for being greedy. Good day."

Ladies and gentlemen - please calm down. Okay, Miss Collins, call 911.