Jul 072010
 

I, Hector Harkman, being of bitter mind and hopelessly frustrated body, do hereby swear to bring down a curse upon my family and closest retainers with the last dying power of my soul. Since I am also the current holder of the Harkman fortune that was made from selling rubber prostitute dolls to miners in the 1860’s, I also have to divide up the tremendous wealth.

To my lovely wife, Evelyn, possessor of the fullest lips and the most agile tongue in the Northern Hemisphere, I leave the mighty sum of three dollars. Evelyn, you only gave three blowjobs in your entire life and unfortunately it was to our butler, my brother and to our gardener. I shall give you one dollar for each time you swallowed seed. Imagine how much I would have given you if you ever had swallowed mine.

To my younger brother and bane of my childhood, Stephen, I leave the château in France so you can start that bondage and sadism retreat you are always talking about. Though you slept with my wife more times than I have, I appreciate your fine taste in hiring nymphomaniac maids for the manor all these years. Where you find these crazed sluts I will never know but you have my gratitude. It almost makes up for being a useless leech in my household all these years. Note however that I leave you no money to actually run your château of decadence.

To my handsome son, Percy, I leave you the promise of a violent death at the hands of a beautiful assassin. Oh yes! I have set up a trust fund with the sole purpose of hiring beautiful women to track you down and kill you in the act of sex. Keep that in mind the next time you are fucking some gorgeous slut. The next tit you kiss might be poisoned! As you can tell, I have not forgiven you for fucking my mistress when I was in Paris. God damn boy, couldn’t you wait till I was dead before you started fucking my things?

To my untrustworthy butler, Vincent, I leave the curse of having to take care of my wife. Marry her with my blessing you poor bastard. If you do, I will give you ten million dollars. You enjoy fucking her so much, see what it is like to have to actually live with the bitch.

To my precious secretary, Heather, who stood by me all these years and often let me fondle any bit of her that I please, I leave my seven mansions and the entirety of my money. I know you were working for my wife to spy on me but I appreciate how far you went in your duty to seduce me. You let an old man fuck your tight ass and you just don’t see that kind of hard working dedication any more.

Finally, to anyone that I may have missed who feels that they have impacted my life in a positive manner, I leave you jack shit. If you thought you were good for me, you were fucking wrong! I’ll be waiting for you in Hell with a monstrous erection and no lube.

Mother fuckers.

  3 Responses to “Fiction: Last Will of Hector Harkman”

  1. *giggle* That reminds me of the “Boot to the Head” skit I have on my MP3 player. I absolutely adore it.

  2. t’Sade- Wow, I haven’t heard Boot to the Head in ages. I should dig up my Demento Cd’s.

  3. That was awesome, one of these days I’ll get caught up on your blog and I’m sure it’ll be soon as I’m bored as hell these days and twiddling my thumbs in wait for summer to be over and work to start up again.

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