Phrase 7: Where’s there’s a will…I want to be in it.
“So….,’ I said to my cousin Ann, ‘You think he left me anything in that will?”
“Is that all you care about?” She asked, disturbed by my indifference to this time of grieving.
I pretended to be someone deep in thoughts as I thought about dear old Grandpa. The man was in no uncertain terms an old coot, who tried to make everyone miserable and went out of his way to make life a living hell. If there was any redeeming factor about the old fart, it was that he had a fuck ton of money and being ‘nice’ to him would hopefully get me some of that money.
“Well, yes.” I replied bluntly. I felt no sadness over his death.
“How do you sleep at night?” She asked as if she was talking to an unfeeling monster.
“Quite fine, thanks”. I said with a smirk and joyful tone.