My Last Will and Testament

I first saw him eating a hotdog at a stand downtown.
Next, he was having a smoke in Millenium Park - alone.
An hour later, he walked right past me on the journalism floor of my school.
A day later he was looking at Jim Croce cds while I was looking at Cher... er, uh AC/DC albums.
Four hours later, he entered the 5th floor bathroom, ten seconds after I did.

He had a poc-marked face and squinty eyes. His hair was greasy black and wavy. He wore a lot of leather. I can't be sure of his name, but he resembled a "Rick". You've seen "Ricks" before, they look dopey, but also kind of troublesome.
When he entered the bathroom I was sure he had followed me in there. I was sure he had come to kill me. I wondered who it was that ordered my assassination. I got goosebumps and had a brief moment of happiness at the thought of my beloved goosebumps being the last sensation I felt before the blade cut me cold.
I don't know why I assumed it would be a knife that "Rick" would use, but that's how I felt at that moment of assured death.
I always thought I'd die in a car crash.
"Rick" finished, and left the bathroom without saying anything to me, pretending he hadn't been following me around for the last two days.
"Rick" was good.
He was cold-blooded.
A real professional.

I was sent home that night realizing that it was only a matter of time before "Rick" or someone like "Rick" finished me off.
I was slick, but not slick enough to duck the Grim Reaper twice.

People need to know where I want all my stuff to go after I'm buried in fate's cold, cold ground. Here's how I want it all divvied:

Armin. Armin will inherit every cd I own (except for Springsteen), as Armin is the only person I've ever met who seemed hateful of every song I've ever loved.

Emily (E:1, my sister). My framed Wizard of Oz poster. I cannot recall ever seeing her watch this film, but she claims it's her favorite. So be it. The poster is hers.
I've also decided that she can have my car. She doesn't really need my car, but giving my sister a car after I'm dead and buried seems like a pretty cool brotherly thing to do.

Emily (E:2). When she and I were dating, I bought a sweet Springsteen t-shirt, circa '84, from eBay. What I didn't realize upon purchasing the medium-sized t-shirt, is that:

Size M in 1984 + 18 years of machine-washed shrinkage = a really small t-shirt that didn't come close to fitting me.

I was saddened and heartbroken. I kept the shirt in the back of my dresser with the assumption that my 12-year-old would one day think it was as awesome as I thought it was.
Alas, one day Emily saw the shirt and wanted to wear it and keep it. To my knowledge she still has it and it remains the single best piece of clothing in her entire wardrobe. She also recently nabbed a Mickey Mouse t-shirt from me, begging the question, why doesn't Emily just go to Urban Outfitters like everyone else?
Emily gets all my t-shirts.

Emily (E:4). Emily will inherit my iPod. She once said that she could name various types of breads for five minutes. "Five minutes worth of various breads", I thought, "Impossible!" And for a brief moment, when she moved away from the traditional breads like pumpernickel and rye and moved toward bagels, I realized that she might actually sit there for five minutes naming bread and my iPod would soon be gone.
She couldn't do it, but in the spirit of her attempt, after I am shived dead in the streets of Chicago, my iPod should go to her.
Also, her taste in music is sorry, so it would only be right for her to inherit music that doesn't make me want to vomit with rage. Giving Emily my iPod is like giving Jerry's Kids a check for $9 million.

Dad. My Dad should get all my DVDs because he either already likes the movies I own, or would like the movies I own should he actually watch any of them.
NOTE: I am hereby excluding 'Reservoir Dogs' from the list of DVDs my Dad may inhereit. He doesn't like 'Reservoir Dogs' and will most likely use it as a coaster or an item with which to level uneven table legs.

Jason. Jason will inhereit all my pants. He doesn't have as many pairs of pants as I do, and so I feel he could get more use out of them than anyone else. Also, I've worn in the butts on each of my pants and I think his butt would look pretty foxy in my pants.
Not that I've thought about what his butt would look like in my pants, or even what his butt looks like in his own pants.
I'm just saying.

Mom. Mom will inherit my 2,000+ Bruce Springsteen records, tapes and cd's. I had planned on being buried with all of them, but as I was typing this will, she informed me of her plans to pull the Bruce cds out of my coffin anyway. My mother is nothing if not honest, so I'm hereby bequeathing all my bootlegs to her.

Zak. Zak will inherit my guitars and musical equipment...
...so maybe one day he might learn to actually play them (rimshot).

For the remaining people in my life, I could never forget any of you... but at the moment, I can't remember any of you. So I've devised a plan. I will enclose a list of my remaining friends and family who I feel would enjoy profiting from my death and see to it that you all receive an invitation to my home soon after my blood is washed away from the streets.
Upon arriving, you will each draw a number. The person who draws the number 1 will get to choose any item from my remaining possessions. The person with the number 2 can choose to either pick another one of my remaining possessions or steal the item Person #1 chose.
Some of you might have played this game during the holidays and called it "Elephant Christmas".
When I die, you will play "Elephant Funeral".
The game continues until each of my 14,000 friends have stolen or chosen something that was once a cherished personal belonging of mine.
For those of you deciding not to take part in my will...well, more for the greedy people.

I, A. Justin Shafer, Sr., am of sound mind and body.

P.S. Don't let my Mom sell my Bruce records on eBay. I'm convinced she'll get ripped off.