My nine nieces and nephews call me Uncle Monster, which indicates they are young enough not to realize that I own a house and a car and have no descendants of my own to be the beneficiaries of my will. I expect that eventually there will be fierce competition for my favor, though Uncle Monster has no intention of making this process a walk in the park. For decades, I have fantasized about a Last Will and Testament that specifies the designated lucky ducky must spend the night IN A HAUNTED HOUSE!!!!!! In preparation, I must obtain A HAUNTED HOUSE, some cobwebs, and a creepy portrait of myself with eyes that follow you around. Further details will emerge in consultation with the writers of every television series from the late twentieth century, as this–along with the arrival of an identical cousin–is one of the most important plot devices of that era. My only regret is that I will not be around to ROTFLMAO at the resulting hijinks, although perhaps the fortuitous arrival of my identical cousin will allow me to fake my own death and watch from a secret passage.
Ha ha, just kidding. I’m leaving everything to Goblin.
And I’m immortal.