My Job Was To Sort Through A Dead Rich Guy’s (Insane) Things
"Jack" used to work as an assistant for a probate lawyer, which he describes as, "The attorney that drafts up wills to make sure that your shit goes to the right place after you drop dead." It was as uneventful as it sounds. "We mostly dealt with old people, as they are the ones that are usually concerned with dying," he says. "As an assistant to the lawyer, I pretty much did gofer work, like filing papers in the court or opening mail -- nothing too exciting."
But one day, he was delegated a very special assignment. A wealthy Miami Beach doctor had died in his bed, from a heart attack. It seemed the man had somehow neglected to write a will, so his mother and his (much younger) girlfriend had begun battling over his property. The mother hired Jack's boss, which meant, "We needed to write a log of everything he owned. The attorney took me over to the dead guy's apartment, handed me the keys, and told me to start cataloging. It was urgent to record every single item in order to properly separate the guy's estate. So then I began."
Item 1: Sex Chair
The first thing that greeted Jack was a ... uh ... a this thing:
That there is a big ol' fancy fuck chair.
"I do remember specifically sitting on the floor the entire time," Jack says. That's because the fuck chair "was the only place to sit in the entire apartment (besides the bed) ... He was a devious genius."
Next was Dr. Love's huge dildo.
Is-is it flicking us off?
"Not sure if this thing was ever lodged in this doctor's ass at some point, but it was still in its box. To think that this dude's mom was fighting to get this enormous fake cock, kind of makes you hope that kind old lady loses out to the so-called girlfriend (who was some money-grubbing 'actress' who I had actually recognized from some of her previous work). That enormous monstrosity just sat on the top of the closet as I continued logging everything else in the apartment. Staring at me."
Having learned entirely too much about this deceased stranger's boner, Jack moved on to the kitchen.
Item 2: Cocaine
"I found the ball of coke in the kitchen drawer," Jack says, and this is where his naivete shines through. "Being that I was homeschooled up until sophomore year of high school, when I found the coke, I wasn't even sure what I found. I had never gotten to see hard drugs firsthand. Because my best friend at the time was the 'worst' influence I knew, I thought that he'd know whether it was actually coke. (I wanted to make sure whether I should mention it to my boss or not or write it on the list.) He came over and he saw it."
Since he was homeschooled, be glad his best friend with all the drug knowledge wasn't his Mom.
Inviting this friend over turned out to be the first in a long line of terrible decisions. If you've ever seen a teen comedy, you know what happened next.
"Being that he wasn't completely into coke either, he was wary to taste it, so he called HIS worst influence friend," Jack goes on. "This guy had no problem tasting it -- he even tried some. Then he came up with the idea to sell it and get cash for it -- which my best friend was interested in, but neither had ever sold coke before, so he called his dealer to try it. Within half an hour, there was a freaking coke-party at this dead dude's apartment." And to complete the teen party movie bingo, "There was a cute girl that came with the second friend, so I let the whole thing happen so she'd stick around."
TVTropes has a whole page for "Hero gets the cute girl by jacking her up with cocaine."
But of course, we need some drama for Act 2: "After they consumed most of this itemized inventory, it suddenly hit me -- the attorney was here earlier and he said that he had already noticed a few things throughout the apartment -- did he mean the cocaine? Will he notice that I stole drugs from this dead guy!?"
So they did the only thing a bunch of lit kids could think of:
"We replaced the coke with all sorts of powders and just left it in the drawer, pretending I never saw it."
"Oh, yeaahh! That'll work."
Item 3: A $300 Tennis Racquet
"The cokeheads stole this," Jack says.
Item 4: A Brand New BMW
"After the cokeheads left, I started feeling like I missed an opportunity to have a good time," Jack says.
Luckily, that's when he noticed the brand new BMW in Anonymous Dead Doctor's garage.
The first rule of probate: Search kitchen drawers before cataloguing major vehicles.
"Here I was in this guy's Miami Beach high-rise apartment, and with his year-model luxury car," Jack continues. "That's when the irresponsible, horny 20-year-old hormones took over. I had a new plan: Fuck work. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to live like a king -- I'm going to pick up a chick and bang them at this apartment."
Judging by what we've heard so far, the good doctor's ghost would probably approve.
"Would you like to sit down, while I get some refreshments?"
Tragically, it was not to be.
"[It] turns out that the guy had been dead long enough for the battery of his car to no longer work," Jack says. "Apparently, he also had a motorcycle somewhere (couldn't find it, nor would I have been able to ride it if I found it), which he probably used more than the car. I did the next best thing. I stood around the car and waited for girls who lived in the building to pass by so that I could step out and lock the door, pretending as though I am just arriving," he says.
That ... doesn't sound like it would work.
Even TVTropes don't have that page.
"I waited in the parking lot like a goon for longer than I care to admit. Some dudes passed by at one point. That's about it. Where are all the fabled Miami Beach ladies I've heard so much about?"
Not randomly hanging out in apartment building parking lots, homey.
Item 5: Porn
"It was getting late, so I walked back to the apartment with my hangdog expression, defeated," Jack says. "Yet, still surprisingly horny."
So back to cataloguing it was, and then, "This dead guy was old school -- he didn't have a computer," Jack says. "He didn't have a DVD player. He had a freaking VCR. Instead of digital photos, he had nude polaroids of his exes (that looked like they had been taken back in the '70s or '80s)."
But then "I found the reason why he kept the VCR -- he also had a crate full of hardcore porn in VHS."
Vintage Hardcore Shit.
Hardly one to pass up some antique ass, Jack settled in for some poorly tracked humpin', when he became spectrally cockblocked.
"It's much harder to jack off when you think a ghost is watching you," he says. "So I just sat there fully erect for a good few hours just watching porn endlessly. I [finally] found something that helped me get these blue-hued balls the freedom they deserve. I found a nude picture of the girlfriend. Remember, I knew of her already and her work. So when I finally got to actually see her naked ... yeah, I jacked off in a recently dead guy's apartment."
Look, we're not saying it's right ... any of it ... we're just here to report the facts.
"The story does have some kind of happy ending. The dead dude's mother died before she could ever inherit her son's massive dildo and expansive collection of porn," Jack says.
"I had my own collection, thank you very much."
That's a dubious definition of "happy" but it gets better, "All [the doctor's] money went to charity and the money-grubbing girlfriend got nothing. The moral of the story is: Always have a friend ready and willing to clean out your shit after you die, so your mom or her probate attorney's assistant doesn't stumble onto your massive, ass-clogging dildo."
In the event of Manna's untimely death, please delete her Twitter.
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