[a work still in progess]

a few years ago - three, maybe four - i was working as a fast food service operator for a major fast food chain. i was in my last year of college finishing up a degree in a field i had no interest in persuing. i mean, i can't even balance my check book let alone manage a bank. anyway, about a year and a half ago i get a phone call. it's my mother. she's frantic.
"it's walter." she's sobbing.
walter...
"honey, uncle walter,"
i have an uncle walter?
"steven, seriously,"
i'm being serious.
"steven,"
i couldn't be more serious. so uncle walter, is he dead, getting married, what?
"yes, honey, he's passed away, but if you're gonna be this way,"
what way am i being? i'm sorry, it's very sad. death is horrible. i didn't know him, did i?
"you might've met him once. he thought you his favorite, though. you shared a birthday."
awesome. so do i have to go to some thing?
"i'd like it if you made it to the wake. they're reading his will directly after and who knows, he might've left you something."
i already own enough harmonicas and mason jars of foreign currency , but i'll go. no worries. when is it?

so i go to the wake and kick myself for having thoughts about my cousins - second and third cousins, mind you - and i sit through the reading of the will. his wife, apparently, had passed a few years back so everything was pretty much up for grabs. aunt gina got the house since she has the most kids - she's mormon. mom got the thunderbird she first learned to drive in. uncle allen got his mercury - the one that looks like a futuristic hearse. most of the cousins got savings bonds except the oldest, mike, who got his whole stock portfolio.
and then my name is called, and when it comes time to say "harmonica collection" or "priceless coins" or even "an original tandam bicycle," his lawyer hesitates and says:
"i leave to you my legacy; the first international bank of new orleans."
member fdic.
seriously? and everyone is looking at me, some still teary-eyed, and all i can get out is a high-pitched, seriously? my mouth agape and my look of general disbelief must've prompted my mother's "steven, have some respect. say thank you." i could've, but somehow i knew it would've been inappropriate. but seriously?
so, whatever sign i was getting telling me that my schooling would not have been in vain, i ignored it and after an appropriate mourning period - i think, about three days - i sold uncle walter's legacy to a retired broker from new york - a wedding gift for his grandson, he said. it makes me think i should get married...
but seriously.