I, Horace Limlicker, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath the following:

To my Aunt Henny, who abandoned me at the age six next to The Matterhorn at Disneyland for 15 minutes leaving me at the mercy of a sexually explicit Minnie Mouse with a very deep, gruff voice, forever scarring my innocent mind: my entire collection of gym socks, washed and unwashed.

To my Uncle Fremont, who taught me what it is to be Jewish, even though the entire family is Mormon: Access to my library to select any five books he chooses with the word "limp" in the title.

To Alice, my faithful secretary with whom I've been having a torrid affair for the last seven years without the knowledge of my family: cab fare, just like old times.

To my neighbor Frank Wikowski: His golf clubs, lawn mower, wood chipper, weed whacker, barbecue grill, daughter Julie, power drill, sander, cooler, Power Mac, James Brown records, 1994 BMW, volleyball net, Frisbee, Slinky, antique coin collection, and golden retriever. I won't be needing them anymore.

To my loving parents: Nothing, they're dead. But somebody drop some flowers off at the cemetery, okay?

To my wife Wilma, for all the years she put up with my incredible drinking problem: A bottle of the finest Scotch available.

To my other wife Bessie: I leave my kids. Including the ones I had with Wilma. That should make for a good cat fight.

To Dave at the Bowling Alley: $117.31. No reason.

And finally, to my sister Midge: A real name. Try Sally, or Susie, or even Lucy.

Anything left over, including my lush Bel Aire estate, my Swiss bank accounts and the entire Limlicker Corporation, worth at last estimate over $700 million dollars, to the first person in the room to strip completely naked and rub castor oil over their bodies.

I just wish I could be there to see it.