Tag Archives: inheritance

1081. Lost the will

Vvivia’s parents had been rather creative when naming their daughter, and when she was all grown-up it was clear that Vvivia had inherited a great deal of their creativity.

Vvivia was widowed when rather young, and her departed spouse, who had been a lot older, left her a considerable sum. It was not long before Vvivia recovered and remarried. Again she married an older widower. His name was George Stenton.

The first thing George did was to rewrite his will, leaving all to his new wife. A few months after the wedding Vvivia left George; a no good husband; absolutely no good; not what she was expecting. George rewrote his will again, leaving everything to his sons and daughters from his first marriage.

Not long after, George died. There had, according to Vvivia, been a reconciliation.

I, Vvivia Stenton, swear that since the death of my husband, George Stenton, I have had access to his papers and repositories and I have searched diligently therein for any will or testamentary writing made or signed by the said deceased and that I have been unable to find any such will or testamentary writing. I do verily believe that the said deceased died intestate and that I am his widow.

Vvivia went on to marry again, in fact, several times. She was able to comfortably retire from pursuing her hobby by the age of thirty-seven.

1036. The late Aunt Hilda

I really am terribly excited! My husband’s old aunt has just died. Aunt Hilda. She was such a grouchy old bag. I couldn’t stand her. Every Sunday we would have to visit. We didn’t want to get left out of the will, and she was so rich. Unbelievably rich! But goodness! How to ruin a Sunday! In fact, how to ruin an entire week.

I didn’t bother going to the funeral. Why should I? Goodness knows I had visited her often enough. Missing out on her pre-cremation celebration was a pleasure. And then, later that same day, the will was read. Forty three million! Can you imagine? Forty three million! The things I’ll be able to do! In retrospect, it was worth putting up with her blue rinse every Sunday. You’ve no idea the relief now she’s kicked the bucket.

I’m going to start with a new car. And a new house. Not just a house, as you can imagine. More of a manor.

The only thing I have to do, and rather quickly, is to stop my husband from opening his email. He doesn’t open his email that often. I don’t want him to see the message I asked my divorce lawyer to send last week.

986. Moira’s cousin, Clive

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Clive’s cousin, Moira, died and left him eleven million.

Moira had lived alone all her life, and to all intents and purposes, Clive was her closest living relative; “closest” in the sense of blood, rather than “closest” in the sense of emotional attachment. Moira was thirteen years younger than Clive and they had never been close.

Moira had quite simply got all her money from her father. Poor old Clive was the nephew and never got a thing. He barely had two pennies to rub together.

And then Moira upped and died.

She upped and died! Upped and died! Silly old Moira upped and died at one o’clock in the morning.

And about time too! Clive had waited to get his hands on her millions for years. And at last! At last!

It was so annoying when two days later the doctor gave Clive his marching orders.

556. Inheritance

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Christine and Ernie’s two grown-up kids were furious.

For many years after their marriage, Christine and Ernie had scrimped and saved. They brought up their two children, and managed to save enough money to purchase the place of their dreams. It was a lovely house on several acres of land. A life-style property. On it they had a vegetable and flower garden, two donkeys (which they lent out to the local church every Christmas for a parade), and half a dozen sheep.

Then for years they had the mortgage to go with it. Ernie worked for the railways as a welder, and Christine cleaned the classrooms at the local school. But at last everything was paid off, and the children had flown the nest. Christine and Ernie continued to work, but it was time to enjoy their lifestyle. And enjoy it they did! For about ten years.

Then, sadly, Ernie passed away after a short illness.

Christine tidied the place up and sold it for a pretty penny. She bought a cheaper place “in town”. It still had a pretty garden, but didn’t carry the responsibility of looking after animals and keeping a large property up to scratch.

Then Christine got the travel bug. She travelled to France, to Spain, to Germany. She visited North America.

“Mum, you’re spending too much money,” said her two grown-up kids.

“It’s my money,” she said.

“It’s our money too, when you go,” said the kids.

Christine did die in the end. There was no money left.

Christine and Ernie’s two grown-up kids were furious.

220. Deaf and dying

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Padraic had emigrated from Ireland about seventy years ago. He had made an astronomical fortune in his new country. Now he was in his nineties and dying in a hospital bed. He had no direct descendants, but had nieces and nephews.

He was visited by a great niece, Peyton. She was in her thirties.

“Can he hear?” asked Peyton of the nurse.

“He can’t hear a thing,” said the nurse. “He’s not only unconscious; he’s as deaf as a post.”

“Let me say one thing,” said Peyton, speaking towards Padraic’s deaf ears. “You are a selfish shitbox. We can’t wait for you to die. We want the money. Ha! Ha! Ha! I’ve already put a deposit on a new house, so hurry up and kick the bucket, you fuckwitted-money-grabbing scumsucker.”

Just then the priest arrived.

“Can he hear?” asked the priest of Peyton.

“Not a damn thing,” said Peyton.

The priest gave Padraic a blessing. Padraic made the sign of the cross.

Padraic never fully recovered. Just enough to change his will.