Week 14: Ambuscade
Nov. 3rd, 2025 03:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inkstainedfingertips“Are you serious?” Milton asked.
“I am afraid so,” the lawyer responded with a shrug. “These were the conditions set forth in your uncle’s will.”
Milton sighed but allowed the lawyer to attach the device to him. Once he was hooked up, he was allowed into the hall where his uncle lay in a coffin on a dais at the front. A hundred people milled about, but Milton noticed only the family members had the same devices attached to them that was currently around his chest.
The air was heavy. It was thick with emotion with people dabbing their eyes and speaking in low, reverent tones about the deceased. Milton doubted much of it was authentic. Nobody in the family could stand his Uncle Harold. Hell, nobody in general liked him much. He was a cantankerous, miserly old man who said the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times. That was one of the things Milton liked most about him. His Uncle Harold did not give a fuck. And Milton respected him for that. At least he was honest.
Their relationship had its ups and downs, and he did not always like the old man, but they got along for the most part. He appalled most everybody else, but the old man made him laugh. Milton thought Uncle Harold would be disgusted by the display of false emotion in the room.
“You always did like being the center of attention, you old coot,” Milton muttered.
“How are you holding up, Milty?”
He turned to see his aunt Caroline sidle over. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet with tears. It was all Milton could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Caroline hated her brother more than most and everybody knew it. She always used to say, to Uncle Harold’s face, that she couldn’t wait for the day he died so she could piss on his grave.
“I’m fine, Aunt Caroline,” Milton said. “And how are you holding up?”
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and shook her head. “It’s all just so sad. I loved Harry. I just… I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Well, he’s in a better place now,” Milton said gamely.
“Yes. Yes, he is.”
She turned and melted into the crowd, making sure everyone got a good look at her tear-stained face and overwrought emotional condition. If Milton rolled his eyes any harder, they’d be stuck in the back of his head.
“Can you believe her?”
Milton startled and turned to find his cousin Tobin standing beside him, as if appearing from thin air. Tobin was the most likeable of his cousins, which wasn’t saying much. But they got on well enough. Unlike Milton, Tobin had no ambition. His dream in life was to smoke a joint in every country on the planet. It wasn’t for Milton, but hey, more power to him.
“What’s with your mom anyway?” Milton asked. “Everybody knows she hated Uncle Harold’s guts.”
Tobin chuckled and tapped the device strapped to Milton’s chest.
“Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“These little doohickies monitor your heart rate, tear output—basically, everything you’ve been thinking and feeling since you stepped into this room.”
Milton cocked his head. “What? Why?”
He shrugged. “Uncle Harold wants to know who’s really grieving him, man.”
“Okay, but why?”
“I guess it has something to do with how his estate’s going to be divvied up or something.”
Milton laughed to himself. Of course. That explained the sudden emotions that were gripping his family. Uncle Harold was worth billions. Like hundreds of billions. Milton had never really given it much thought, but clearly his family had. And if Uncle Harold was running a contest with his estate going to the one who showed the most emotion about his passing, it made sense that everybody had developed a sudden, abiding love for the old man.
“Jesus,” Milton said. “That sounds like Uncle Harold.”
“Right? I’m just hoping for enough to fund my trip around the world. That pot ain’t going to smoke itself,” Tobin said. “What about you?”
“I’m not hoping for anything.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m saying goodbye to the old man.”
“Wow. Good on you, bro. Selfless. It’s a good act.”
“It’s not an act.”
“Whatever, man. Your secret is safe with me.”
Milton rolled his eyes and took his seat as the service began. It was a long, drawn out affair with long winded speeches being made by people he knew didn’t give a damn about his uncle. All the while though, Milton’s eyes kept drifting to the monitors attached to everybody’s chests as one question floated through his mind: who was monitoring the monitors.
* * * * *
“Thank you all for your patience, I know what a trying day this has been for all of you,” the lawyer intoned. “Now, you, Harold Whittaker’s immediate family have been assembled for the reading of his will, as per his instructions.”
A low murmur rippled through the twenty-five people gathered in Uncle Harold’s study. The lawyer sat at the oversized desk Uncle Harold used to sit at when he held court in this very room. It sat on a foot-tall dais, Milton thought, so he could always literally look down on everybody who entered his study. If there was one thing Uncle Milton loved, it was feeling superior.
“As you are all very aware, Mr. Whittaker has a sizeable estate, and he has made his wishes for the division of his estate in this will I am holding.”
“Can you get to it? Some of us have places to be.”
Milton thought that was his cousin Steve, which was very on brand. Steve was a materialistic weasel who didn’t care for anybody but himself. The lawyer looked over his glasses at Steve, a small frown flickering across his lips.
“As you are all aware, Mr. Whittaker asked that you all wear a monitor to the funeral. He wished to track your emotional state throughout the event,” the lawyer went on. “In short, he wished to know who was and wasn’t sincerely mourning him.”
“And what, if we didn’t really cry, we’re cut out of the will?” Steve shouted again.
The lawyer looked over his glasses at Steve again. “Precisely.”
Another ripple of shocked murmurs passed through the crowd. Milton smiled to himself and shook his head. That was very much on brand for Uncle Harold. Aunt Caroline got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips.
“I genuinely mourned my brother’s death,” she called, using a tissue to dab the tears in her eyes. “And I’m sure my monitor will prove that.”
“Oh, yes, you shed many tears, Caroline,” the lawyer said. “But we also have you on camera in the bathroom macing yourself.”
The crowd gasped as one as all heads swiveled to her. Caroline’s face turned bright red and she pointed a menacing finger at the lawyer.
“I will not stand for these lies—”
Her words were cut off as a video began to play of Caroline standing alone in the bathroom where she was, in fact, macing herself. Her face turned red and she cried immediately.
“Caroline!” Steve stood up and shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Shame on you. That is a truly disgusting display—”
“And Steve,” the lawyer went on. “We have you on video in the kitchen rubbing habanero pepper juice on… your testicles.”
Steve blanched and immediately decried the lies until he too, was shown on video, in the kitchen, rubbing habanero pepper juice on his testicles. The effect was about the same as Caroline macing herself—he turned beet red and began to cry.
The meeting devolved into shouts and accusations as everybody jumped to their feet, wagged their fingers at each other and made their case why they deserved Uncle Harold’s estate and nobody else did. Milton sat in his chair near the back of the room laughing to himself as he enjoyed the spectacle. He was suddenly very glad he’d come. He hadn’t laughed that hard in years. And he had a feeling his Uncle Harold, wherever he was, was enjoying the chaos he’d created.
A loud, sharp alarm bell cut through the din and the room fell silent as everybody turned this way and that, searching for the source. In the quiet of the room, the creaking of the study doors opening was louder than a gunshot. Milton watched in perplexed amazement as Uncle Harold walked down the aisle between the rows of chairs, chuckling to himself. The old man stepped upon the dais and turned to the astonished crowd.
“Surprise, assholes,” Harold crowed.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Caroline shouted.
“What the fuck?” Steve called.
“Sorry to disappoint you all,” Uncle Harold said with a laugh. “Actually, no I’m not.”
“What the hell is going on?” somebody else yelled out.
“My family,” Harold said. “Look at you all.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Steve asked.
“So eager to get your hands on my money that you’d resort to macing yourself and rubbing habaneros on your balls. That, my dear family, is a truly pathetic display.”
“Harold—”
“Quiet, Caroline. This is my funeral and as such, it pains me to say—although I’m not really all that surprised—that you all have failed my test,” he said. “And because of that, none of you will be receiving one red cent from my estate when I really do kick the bucket. Which, my doctors tell me won’t be for some time yet.”
The room was silent as everybody gaped at him, confusion spreading like wildfire.
“There are two whom I will be dividing my estate between. Two who were genuine throughout. And although they didn’t maybe, shed as many tears as I would have liked at the thought of my demise, at least they were honest from the start,” Harold said and turned to look Milton in the eyes. “Milton, you and me, we’re buddies. We’re honest with each other. I respect that. And so, you’re getting three quarters of my estate.”
Milton rocked back in his chair, stunned. The back of his neck soon prickled though as all eyes turned to him. He felt the anger radiating from everybody in attendance.
“And Tobin, I may think you’re a shiftless, unambitious, burnout turd, but you’ve got a good heart,” he said. “And when I keel over, you’ll get a quarter of my estate to fund your travel around the world. After all, I can appreciate a good doobie now and then.”
“Righteous, dude,” Tobin said. “Thanks, Uncle Harold.”
The words had no sooner left Tobin’s lips than sheer chaos erupted in the study. Milton, the lawyer, and Tobin slipped out of the room as the melee grew heated and barricaded themselves in another room until the police arrived. And when it was all sorted out, Uncle Harold was dead—really dead this time. The family tore him apart in the frenzy. And because they all played a part in the vicious attack, the rest of the family was hauled away to stand trial for his murder since they all literally had Harold’s blood on their hands.
* * * * *
“Well, good luck on your trip, Tobin,” Milton said. “I hope you reach your goal.”
“Thanks bro,” he said. “What are you going to do with your inheritance?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Milton said. “I haven’t given much thought to it.”
“Why don’t you meet me in Bali in a couple of weeks,” Tobin said. “Let’s smoke one up in honor of Uncle Harold.”
Milton smiled wide. “You know what? Let’s do that. For Uncle Harold.”
“For Uncle Harold, bro.”
Milton smiled. Uncle Harold had been an asshole in life and being an asshole led to his death, but Milton knew somewhere, wherever he was, Uncle Harold was smiling too.
The old man appreciated a good doobie now and then, after all.
“I am afraid so,” the lawyer responded with a shrug. “These were the conditions set forth in your uncle’s will.”
Milton sighed but allowed the lawyer to attach the device to him. Once he was hooked up, he was allowed into the hall where his uncle lay in a coffin on a dais at the front. A hundred people milled about, but Milton noticed only the family members had the same devices attached to them that was currently around his chest.
The air was heavy. It was thick with emotion with people dabbing their eyes and speaking in low, reverent tones about the deceased. Milton doubted much of it was authentic. Nobody in the family could stand his Uncle Harold. Hell, nobody in general liked him much. He was a cantankerous, miserly old man who said the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times. That was one of the things Milton liked most about him. His Uncle Harold did not give a fuck. And Milton respected him for that. At least he was honest.
Their relationship had its ups and downs, and he did not always like the old man, but they got along for the most part. He appalled most everybody else, but the old man made him laugh. Milton thought Uncle Harold would be disgusted by the display of false emotion in the room.
“You always did like being the center of attention, you old coot,” Milton muttered.
“How are you holding up, Milty?”
He turned to see his aunt Caroline sidle over. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet with tears. It was all Milton could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Caroline hated her brother more than most and everybody knew it. She always used to say, to Uncle Harold’s face, that she couldn’t wait for the day he died so she could piss on his grave.
“I’m fine, Aunt Caroline,” Milton said. “And how are you holding up?”
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and shook her head. “It’s all just so sad. I loved Harry. I just… I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Well, he’s in a better place now,” Milton said gamely.
“Yes. Yes, he is.”
She turned and melted into the crowd, making sure everyone got a good look at her tear-stained face and overwrought emotional condition. If Milton rolled his eyes any harder, they’d be stuck in the back of his head.
“Can you believe her?”
Milton startled and turned to find his cousin Tobin standing beside him, as if appearing from thin air. Tobin was the most likeable of his cousins, which wasn’t saying much. But they got on well enough. Unlike Milton, Tobin had no ambition. His dream in life was to smoke a joint in every country on the planet. It wasn’t for Milton, but hey, more power to him.
“What’s with your mom anyway?” Milton asked. “Everybody knows she hated Uncle Harold’s guts.”
Tobin chuckled and tapped the device strapped to Milton’s chest.
“Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“These little doohickies monitor your heart rate, tear output—basically, everything you’ve been thinking and feeling since you stepped into this room.”
Milton cocked his head. “What? Why?”
He shrugged. “Uncle Harold wants to know who’s really grieving him, man.”
“Okay, but why?”
“I guess it has something to do with how his estate’s going to be divvied up or something.”
Milton laughed to himself. Of course. That explained the sudden emotions that were gripping his family. Uncle Harold was worth billions. Like hundreds of billions. Milton had never really given it much thought, but clearly his family had. And if Uncle Harold was running a contest with his estate going to the one who showed the most emotion about his passing, it made sense that everybody had developed a sudden, abiding love for the old man.
“Jesus,” Milton said. “That sounds like Uncle Harold.”
“Right? I’m just hoping for enough to fund my trip around the world. That pot ain’t going to smoke itself,” Tobin said. “What about you?”
“I’m not hoping for anything.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m saying goodbye to the old man.”
“Wow. Good on you, bro. Selfless. It’s a good act.”
“It’s not an act.”
“Whatever, man. Your secret is safe with me.”
Milton rolled his eyes and took his seat as the service began. It was a long, drawn out affair with long winded speeches being made by people he knew didn’t give a damn about his uncle. All the while though, Milton’s eyes kept drifting to the monitors attached to everybody’s chests as one question floated through his mind: who was monitoring the monitors.
“Thank you all for your patience, I know what a trying day this has been for all of you,” the lawyer intoned. “Now, you, Harold Whittaker’s immediate family have been assembled for the reading of his will, as per his instructions.”
A low murmur rippled through the twenty-five people gathered in Uncle Harold’s study. The lawyer sat at the oversized desk Uncle Harold used to sit at when he held court in this very room. It sat on a foot-tall dais, Milton thought, so he could always literally look down on everybody who entered his study. If there was one thing Uncle Milton loved, it was feeling superior.
“As you are all very aware, Mr. Whittaker has a sizeable estate, and he has made his wishes for the division of his estate in this will I am holding.”
“Can you get to it? Some of us have places to be.”
Milton thought that was his cousin Steve, which was very on brand. Steve was a materialistic weasel who didn’t care for anybody but himself. The lawyer looked over his glasses at Steve, a small frown flickering across his lips.
“As you are all aware, Mr. Whittaker asked that you all wear a monitor to the funeral. He wished to track your emotional state throughout the event,” the lawyer went on. “In short, he wished to know who was and wasn’t sincerely mourning him.”
“And what, if we didn’t really cry, we’re cut out of the will?” Steve shouted again.
The lawyer looked over his glasses at Steve again. “Precisely.”
Another ripple of shocked murmurs passed through the crowd. Milton smiled to himself and shook his head. That was very much on brand for Uncle Harold. Aunt Caroline got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips.
“I genuinely mourned my brother’s death,” she called, using a tissue to dab the tears in her eyes. “And I’m sure my monitor will prove that.”
“Oh, yes, you shed many tears, Caroline,” the lawyer said. “But we also have you on camera in the bathroom macing yourself.”
The crowd gasped as one as all heads swiveled to her. Caroline’s face turned bright red and she pointed a menacing finger at the lawyer.
“I will not stand for these lies—”
Her words were cut off as a video began to play of Caroline standing alone in the bathroom where she was, in fact, macing herself. Her face turned red and she cried immediately.
“Caroline!” Steve stood up and shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Shame on you. That is a truly disgusting display—”
“And Steve,” the lawyer went on. “We have you on video in the kitchen rubbing habanero pepper juice on… your testicles.”
Steve blanched and immediately decried the lies until he too, was shown on video, in the kitchen, rubbing habanero pepper juice on his testicles. The effect was about the same as Caroline macing herself—he turned beet red and began to cry.
The meeting devolved into shouts and accusations as everybody jumped to their feet, wagged their fingers at each other and made their case why they deserved Uncle Harold’s estate and nobody else did. Milton sat in his chair near the back of the room laughing to himself as he enjoyed the spectacle. He was suddenly very glad he’d come. He hadn’t laughed that hard in years. And he had a feeling his Uncle Harold, wherever he was, was enjoying the chaos he’d created.
A loud, sharp alarm bell cut through the din and the room fell silent as everybody turned this way and that, searching for the source. In the quiet of the room, the creaking of the study doors opening was louder than a gunshot. Milton watched in perplexed amazement as Uncle Harold walked down the aisle between the rows of chairs, chuckling to himself. The old man stepped upon the dais and turned to the astonished crowd.
“Surprise, assholes,” Harold crowed.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Caroline shouted.
“What the fuck?” Steve called.
“Sorry to disappoint you all,” Uncle Harold said with a laugh. “Actually, no I’m not.”
“What the hell is going on?” somebody else yelled out.
“My family,” Harold said. “Look at you all.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Steve asked.
“So eager to get your hands on my money that you’d resort to macing yourself and rubbing habaneros on your balls. That, my dear family, is a truly pathetic display.”
“Harold—”
“Quiet, Caroline. This is my funeral and as such, it pains me to say—although I’m not really all that surprised—that you all have failed my test,” he said. “And because of that, none of you will be receiving one red cent from my estate when I really do kick the bucket. Which, my doctors tell me won’t be for some time yet.”
The room was silent as everybody gaped at him, confusion spreading like wildfire.
“There are two whom I will be dividing my estate between. Two who were genuine throughout. And although they didn’t maybe, shed as many tears as I would have liked at the thought of my demise, at least they were honest from the start,” Harold said and turned to look Milton in the eyes. “Milton, you and me, we’re buddies. We’re honest with each other. I respect that. And so, you’re getting three quarters of my estate.”
Milton rocked back in his chair, stunned. The back of his neck soon prickled though as all eyes turned to him. He felt the anger radiating from everybody in attendance.
“And Tobin, I may think you’re a shiftless, unambitious, burnout turd, but you’ve got a good heart,” he said. “And when I keel over, you’ll get a quarter of my estate to fund your travel around the world. After all, I can appreciate a good doobie now and then.”
“Righteous, dude,” Tobin said. “Thanks, Uncle Harold.”
The words had no sooner left Tobin’s lips than sheer chaos erupted in the study. Milton, the lawyer, and Tobin slipped out of the room as the melee grew heated and barricaded themselves in another room until the police arrived. And when it was all sorted out, Uncle Harold was dead—really dead this time. The family tore him apart in the frenzy. And because they all played a part in the vicious attack, the rest of the family was hauled away to stand trial for his murder since they all literally had Harold’s blood on their hands.
“Well, good luck on your trip, Tobin,” Milton said. “I hope you reach your goal.”
“Thanks bro,” he said. “What are you going to do with your inheritance?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Milton said. “I haven’t given much thought to it.”
“Why don’t you meet me in Bali in a couple of weeks,” Tobin said. “Let’s smoke one up in honor of Uncle Harold.”
Milton smiled wide. “You know what? Let’s do that. For Uncle Harold.”
“For Uncle Harold, bro.”
Milton smiled. Uncle Harold had been an asshole in life and being an asshole led to his death, but Milton knew somewhere, wherever he was, Uncle Harold was smiling too.
The old man appreciated a good doobie now and then, after all.
no subject
on 2025-11-04 01:17 am (UTC)Steve rubbing the sauce on himself had me like 😳 he certainly committed to the bit and sksksk
And I love the way they tore Harold apart like the symbolism for vultures picking apart a carcass in that was brilliant, so clever as well as funny.
The character voices were ao great as well like I could totally picture tobin, Milton and uncle Harold and I love how their personalities shone through and really jumped off the page. And
d then 5hat last line!
Amazing, as always.💕
no subject
on 2025-11-05 03:04 am (UTC)