The Last Will and Testament of Ash Gently
April 14, 2008
I, Ash Gently, having recently acquired the position of Sheriff of the fine Domain of New York City, have thought it good at this point to draft a copy of my last will and testament. This seems an unhappy necessity, given the track record that Sheriffs seem to have here (see my esteemed predecessor, Mr. Bojan Petrov, for details).
In any event, seeing as how I am now dead, allow me to open by saying that this is undoubtedly all your fucking fault, Brody. I obviously cannot intuit how it is your fault (being not yet dead) , but it is. You lack the fucking balls to say no to people in your own court. You let the independents and Pisces run slipshod over all all of our operations. You're too much of a pussy to risk losing Primogen McUseless when *you* have the Ductus of the fucking Sabbat held hostage. All you're really good at is glowering at people and taking notes in your fucking blackberry. Seriously. Do you have anything useful in that thing or are you just playing Minesweeper every court. Because if it's there to remind you to do important things, you should probably come up with a different strategy. That's right. Tappity tapitty fucking tap fuck you.
Now that that's over with, you're really not that bad a guy, and you got a sort of bum job to do when you bother to do it - which is why I'm having my associate drop off my accumulated Sheriffing notes to you, such as that he won't get his stupid ass killed by vampires for having them and such as that you, lucky fellow that you are, may benefit from my accumulated wisdom.
Next order of business: All the guys I know who do favors for me and such. I've decided that they may all go on to lead rich lives doing favors for one another, as I've always been a little weirded out by the habit vampires have of trading people as if they were so many bubblegum cards.
Now, onto the giant ghouled albino alligator that lives in the sewers and believes she's an elven fairy princess (Yes. You read that right.) Her name is Isabella and she will probably be hungry and somewhat prone to biting people. This should probably be looked into by somebody from my Clan. Possibly whats-her-face the Anarch, as I seem to be lacking Clanmates in at the moment. She's a good girl, but gets a little confused sometimes. Under no circumstances should Pisces be allowed anywhere near her.
As for the rest of my Dr. Doolittle-esque animal friends, I'm going to will Hitchcock (that's the name of the red-tailed hawk Bojan decided to punch out of the sky, by the by) to the New York aviary, as I have found that the Camarilla is somewhat... wanting when it comes to interrogating Sabbat members (which all in all, Hitchcock technically is), and I'd really rather you guys not peel his eyelids off in a back room somewhere.
To Brian Wu, I leave my arthurium plant, as I'm sure he has enough money to take care of it.
To Roske, I leave my gun (He likes guns). Her name is also Isabella.
Other than that I ask that my Rough Rider Max Duo Laptop be destroyed and that the rest of my worldly possessions go to people mentioned in my actual real-life legal will.
Lastly, if it hasn't been done by the time I am dead, could somebody please find Paul Fasciani and give him his wallet back?