2. DUTCHY
This is Dutchy. (Hi). And this is my will. (It says Hi). And I'm dead. (Boo). My will is not dead. (Boo.) But, my will is useful. (Yay.) It will tell you what I want done with myself and all my 'earthy belongings' now that I don't really have any use for them(Yay!)
Okay, first off. I want to go out of this world in style. My kind of 'style' though. Dutchy-style. Meaning I want to go out of this word in a rowboat, wearing nothing but my loafers, a bed sheet, that lime green thong thing I got at Meddahs, and lots and lots of star-fruit. No glasses, though- I want quarters placed over my eyes instead. And I exactly 8 copies of the world underneath me in the rowboat, with a copy of Titus Andronicus on my right side and a copy of the Kama Sutra on my left side, and the biggest package of birth-control pills you can find spread all around me. No, wait, better make it condoms. I never sleep with anyone who needs birth control. If you know what I mean.Of course you do. Y'all live with me.
Oh, yeah, and the whole thing has to be doused in something very very flammable. Petrol? Lighter fluid? Butter? Whiskey? Don't know, don't care, just something that will catch fire easy-as-pie(real pie, not our Pie, our Pie doesn't catch fire easily. I know, I've tried. Muaha.)
Okay, now for my funeral. It shall consist of 3 acts. Act 1: everyone I know shall gather around the rowboat(positioned on the docks) and introduce themselves, then share memories of moi. Hopefully the most bizarre and sexual ones they can think of. Yes, Specs, I want you to tell the tale of The Night of the Carriages with the Guavas and everything. Anyway, moving on.
Act 2: Everyone shall sing Ave Maria and Home On The Range. Then, as you push the boat off the docks and throw a match at it and watch it explode into flames, y'all shall sing Kume Ba Ya.
Act 3: Everyone goes to Tibbys, orders sausages and eggs and toast and banana cream-pie (my favorite), eats to their hearts contentment, then goes off to get completely drink at a show at Irving Hall. After that.Do as you please.
(man. I wish I were alive. My funeral sounds fun!!)
Now, to final farewells and assigning my crap to folks:
Les- my darling protégé, to you I leave the responsibility of being the next Dutchy. I have already taught you most of what I know about being insane and over-sexed. Now is your chance to put it all to good use. Remember-Always be the life of the party. Try something new every day. Try to seduce someone knew every day (even if you have to seduce your brother, I don't care). I'm also leaving you all my caramels. Be happy.
Sexy Specsie-I guess I ought to tell you to get on with your life after I die. But don't. Not for a while, at least.Then do get over me. Find a nice boy, get married, adopted kids, and pine away for me every so often. Thanks. I lovah lovah love you, more then I can say. Especially when you're covered in whip cream.
Kid Blink-You would look really, really, super, super hot in a tattoo. You know what I got at the docks 3 weeks ago? All the way from God-Knows-Where, the remains of a henna kit. Just don't eat it.
Mush- Kid has a fetish for body paste, especially chocolate. If you get to him soon enough, maybe he'll even change his sexual orientation. You lucky piece of curly fluff you.
Jake-I'm leaving you all my pants. Seriously, boy, no one is ever going to look at you again if you spend the rest of your life in those damn suspenders!! Now you can look half-way decent.
Itey-You need a good kiss. Pity Snitch is too shy. Ah well. You also need.hmmm.Aha! My head towel! You know, the one I dry my hair off with? That, and, umm.A kiss. Yeah, I'll get Snitch to kiss you. Don't worry. But take my pillows anyway. You'll need them.
Snitch-You need a rubber chicken. Sadly, I don't have one. I do have a very very big collection of pretty pictures and post-cards and stamps you can have. And can you give Itey a snog for me? Please? Thanks.
Snipeshooter-Snipey, Snipey, Snipey, what am I going to do with you? You're too cute to abuse and too naughty to be left alone.Erk. I hate adorable people like you. How about I leave you my (stolen) slingshot? Ought to make it easier on people to decide whether to smite you or snuggle you.
Crutchy-Sweetie, I don't know what to leave you. Hmm. You think if I amputated my foot, we could sew it to your leg? Nah.Hey. How about I leave you with a date, huh? Pizza? With Race? Sound good? And as compensation(Race, do NOT spit on my grave) you get.Ehem.My vest. Yeah. It's pretty. It ought to look good on skinny-old-you.
Racetrack-Ahh, my little gambling feind-y friend. You get my last cigars and the two bits I owe you. Hang on, why don't I give you another two bits? One set to gamble away mercilessly, and the other to use to buy yourself a good pizza with it. Share it with Crutchy. He likes pizza. And you can't do otherwise and you know it. Disrespecting the dead and all that. Muaha. Have fun.
Skittery-I leave you three things. First, I leave you with a request to spend at least 30 minuets every day with no one but Les. He ought to make you a happier person. Next, I leave you with the request to talk to Meddah about borrowing a blonde wig. It ought to make you a happier person. And lastly, I leave you my hard candy a dandelion collection. They ought to make you a happier person.
Jack- You can have my bright pink shirt. It used to be red. It would look good with that neck thingy you wear. Oh, one last thing. You want to screw either David or Spot. Please. Get on with it.
David-We all know you're smart, Davey. Its just you look a bit.Well.Pathetic? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. Pathetic. You can have my glasses. They just have window glass in them anyway. If they make me look smart(which I ain't) they will certainly make you look smart. Oh, one more thing. Jack wants to screw wither you or Spot. Get on with it.
Spot-I'm sorry about that truly yummy boy we met at Irving Hall. But let's face it-short boys never get any from strangers unless they're whores. I leave you my stilts. Go crazy. Oh, one more thing. Jack wants to screw wither you or David. Get on with it.
Pie Eater-Hmmm.what to give you, oh stocky-pastry-friendly one.Hmmmhmmhmhmmm....I can't decide what to leave you. SO I'll leave you everything I haven't assigned to people. Share it.
Exclamations upon Expiration-
Umm. None really. I love ya, I'll miss ya, and everything is gonna be so.So.So mature if I don't have all ya to terrorize. Ah well. I'll survive. And if you're ever in the neighborhood, look me up.
Farewell, dear friends and enemies alike.
Dutchy-kins.
~!~!~!~!
Okay, I really liked this installment. I wonder if this means everyone will hate it. Hmm. Ah well, I don't care. I like it. Dutchy is so fun to write.
Anne-Self-deprecating would be a better term. But thanks.
Gothic Author-*pats* Are you alright? You seemed to have fainted in my review section.At any rate, thank you. Even if you think it's depressing.
Raven-I might, I dunno. Just.be warned. I'm in the process of writing a Spot-Story, and I'm not sure all you Spot-fanatics are going to like it.
Klover-Merci.
Omniscient Bookseller-Glad you like. I plan to update by Monday, if not sooner.
Sung-Hi. My name's Charlie. Nice to meet you. And I'm glad you liked my fic.
CiCi-GAWD! Okay, okay, I will do Spots. Eventually. Maybe as an Epilog or something. Glad you like it so far, though.
This is Dutchy. (Hi). And this is my will. (It says Hi). And I'm dead. (Boo). My will is not dead. (Boo.) But, my will is useful. (Yay.) It will tell you what I want done with myself and all my 'earthy belongings' now that I don't really have any use for them(Yay!)
Okay, first off. I want to go out of this world in style. My kind of 'style' though. Dutchy-style. Meaning I want to go out of this word in a rowboat, wearing nothing but my loafers, a bed sheet, that lime green thong thing I got at Meddahs, and lots and lots of star-fruit. No glasses, though- I want quarters placed over my eyes instead. And I exactly 8 copies of the world underneath me in the rowboat, with a copy of Titus Andronicus on my right side and a copy of the Kama Sutra on my left side, and the biggest package of birth-control pills you can find spread all around me. No, wait, better make it condoms. I never sleep with anyone who needs birth control. If you know what I mean.Of course you do. Y'all live with me.
Oh, yeah, and the whole thing has to be doused in something very very flammable. Petrol? Lighter fluid? Butter? Whiskey? Don't know, don't care, just something that will catch fire easy-as-pie(real pie, not our Pie, our Pie doesn't catch fire easily. I know, I've tried. Muaha.)
Okay, now for my funeral. It shall consist of 3 acts. Act 1: everyone I know shall gather around the rowboat(positioned on the docks) and introduce themselves, then share memories of moi. Hopefully the most bizarre and sexual ones they can think of. Yes, Specs, I want you to tell the tale of The Night of the Carriages with the Guavas and everything. Anyway, moving on.
Act 2: Everyone shall sing Ave Maria and Home On The Range. Then, as you push the boat off the docks and throw a match at it and watch it explode into flames, y'all shall sing Kume Ba Ya.
Act 3: Everyone goes to Tibbys, orders sausages and eggs and toast and banana cream-pie (my favorite), eats to their hearts contentment, then goes off to get completely drink at a show at Irving Hall. After that.Do as you please.
(man. I wish I were alive. My funeral sounds fun!!)
Now, to final farewells and assigning my crap to folks:
Les- my darling protégé, to you I leave the responsibility of being the next Dutchy. I have already taught you most of what I know about being insane and over-sexed. Now is your chance to put it all to good use. Remember-Always be the life of the party. Try something new every day. Try to seduce someone knew every day (even if you have to seduce your brother, I don't care). I'm also leaving you all my caramels. Be happy.
Sexy Specsie-I guess I ought to tell you to get on with your life after I die. But don't. Not for a while, at least.Then do get over me. Find a nice boy, get married, adopted kids, and pine away for me every so often. Thanks. I lovah lovah love you, more then I can say. Especially when you're covered in whip cream.
Kid Blink-You would look really, really, super, super hot in a tattoo. You know what I got at the docks 3 weeks ago? All the way from God-Knows-Where, the remains of a henna kit. Just don't eat it.
Mush- Kid has a fetish for body paste, especially chocolate. If you get to him soon enough, maybe he'll even change his sexual orientation. You lucky piece of curly fluff you.
Jake-I'm leaving you all my pants. Seriously, boy, no one is ever going to look at you again if you spend the rest of your life in those damn suspenders!! Now you can look half-way decent.
Itey-You need a good kiss. Pity Snitch is too shy. Ah well. You also need.hmmm.Aha! My head towel! You know, the one I dry my hair off with? That, and, umm.A kiss. Yeah, I'll get Snitch to kiss you. Don't worry. But take my pillows anyway. You'll need them.
Snitch-You need a rubber chicken. Sadly, I don't have one. I do have a very very big collection of pretty pictures and post-cards and stamps you can have. And can you give Itey a snog for me? Please? Thanks.
Snipeshooter-Snipey, Snipey, Snipey, what am I going to do with you? You're too cute to abuse and too naughty to be left alone.Erk. I hate adorable people like you. How about I leave you my (stolen) slingshot? Ought to make it easier on people to decide whether to smite you or snuggle you.
Crutchy-Sweetie, I don't know what to leave you. Hmm. You think if I amputated my foot, we could sew it to your leg? Nah.Hey. How about I leave you with a date, huh? Pizza? With Race? Sound good? And as compensation(Race, do NOT spit on my grave) you get.Ehem.My vest. Yeah. It's pretty. It ought to look good on skinny-old-you.
Racetrack-Ahh, my little gambling feind-y friend. You get my last cigars and the two bits I owe you. Hang on, why don't I give you another two bits? One set to gamble away mercilessly, and the other to use to buy yourself a good pizza with it. Share it with Crutchy. He likes pizza. And you can't do otherwise and you know it. Disrespecting the dead and all that. Muaha. Have fun.
Skittery-I leave you three things. First, I leave you with a request to spend at least 30 minuets every day with no one but Les. He ought to make you a happier person. Next, I leave you with the request to talk to Meddah about borrowing a blonde wig. It ought to make you a happier person. And lastly, I leave you my hard candy a dandelion collection. They ought to make you a happier person.
Jack- You can have my bright pink shirt. It used to be red. It would look good with that neck thingy you wear. Oh, one last thing. You want to screw either David or Spot. Please. Get on with it.
David-We all know you're smart, Davey. Its just you look a bit.Well.Pathetic? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. Pathetic. You can have my glasses. They just have window glass in them anyway. If they make me look smart(which I ain't) they will certainly make you look smart. Oh, one more thing. Jack wants to screw wither you or Spot. Get on with it.
Spot-I'm sorry about that truly yummy boy we met at Irving Hall. But let's face it-short boys never get any from strangers unless they're whores. I leave you my stilts. Go crazy. Oh, one more thing. Jack wants to screw wither you or David. Get on with it.
Pie Eater-Hmmm.what to give you, oh stocky-pastry-friendly one.Hmmmhmmhmhmmm....I can't decide what to leave you. SO I'll leave you everything I haven't assigned to people. Share it.
Exclamations upon Expiration-
Umm. None really. I love ya, I'll miss ya, and everything is gonna be so.So.So mature if I don't have all ya to terrorize. Ah well. I'll survive. And if you're ever in the neighborhood, look me up.
Farewell, dear friends and enemies alike.
Dutchy-kins.
~!~!~!~!
Okay, I really liked this installment. I wonder if this means everyone will hate it. Hmm. Ah well, I don't care. I like it. Dutchy is so fun to write.
Anne-Self-deprecating would be a better term. But thanks.
Gothic Author-*pats* Are you alright? You seemed to have fainted in my review section.At any rate, thank you. Even if you think it's depressing.
Raven-I might, I dunno. Just.be warned. I'm in the process of writing a Spot-Story, and I'm not sure all you Spot-fanatics are going to like it.
Klover-Merci.
Omniscient Bookseller-Glad you like. I plan to update by Monday, if not sooner.
Sung-Hi. My name's Charlie. Nice to meet you. And I'm glad you liked my fic.
CiCi-GAWD! Okay, okay, I will do Spots. Eventually. Maybe as an Epilog or something. Glad you like it so far, though.
