Dave, a notoriously disorganized accountant, decided it was finally time to write his will. He gathered his slightly-sticky notepad, a pen that hadn’t seen ink since the Clinton administration, and his pet hamster, Mr. Nibbles, who he considered his sole heir. He cleared his throat, attempting a serious expression, which was difficult given Mr. Nibbles was currently using his notepad as a climbing frame.
“Right then, Mr. Nibbles,” Dave began, his voice echoing in the oddly-decorated room filled with half-eaten sandwiches and unfiled tax returns. “My Last Will and… Testament…ish. It’s a bit… rough around the edges,” he admitted, gesturing at the hamster-chewed notepad. Mr. Nibbles twitched his nose in what Dave interpreted as agreement.
“To my dearest, fluffiest, most financially irresponsible heir,” Dave continued, scratching his head with the aforementioned ancient pen, “I leave… um…” He trailed off, flipping through the notepad’s pages filled with scribbles and calculations that looked suspiciously like a recipe for a very unusual cake. “Ah, yes! I leave my entire collection of novelty rubber ducks – approximately 37, give or take a few that may have… escaped – to you, my dear Nibbles.”
He paused for dramatic effect. Mr. Nibbles, seemingly unmoved by this momentous occasion, proceeded to nibble on Dave’s finger.
“And… the… uh… the slightly questionable collection of taxidermied squirrels in the attic… I leave those to… to… whoever can find them first!” Dave finished with a flourish, collapsing back in his chair, exhausted. He glanced at Mr. Nibbles, who was now meticulously grooming himself, completely oblivious to the legacy he’d just inherited.
Dave sighed. “Well, at least it’s written,” he mumbled to himself. “Though I suppose technically, it’s more of a… Dave’s Last Will and Testament… ish… and definitely hamster-approved.”
