Goodbye, scary world

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF D.A. KOLODENKO

I. I, D.A. Kolodenko, a resident of Ocean Beach, Calif., being of sound and disposing mind and memory and over the age of eighteen (18) years, and not being actuated by any duress, menace, fraud, mistake or undue influence, do make, publish and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills and Codicils previously made by me.

II.  EXECUTOR:  I appoint David Rolland as Executor of this, my Last Will and Testament, and provide if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Kelly Davis as alternate Executor. My Executor shall be authorized to carry out all provisions of this Will and pay my just debts, obligations and funeral expenses.

III.  SIMULTANEOUS DEATH OF BENEFICIARY:  If any beneficiary of this Will shall die within 30 days of my death or prior to the distribution of my estate, which is likely given the imminent flu pandemic, I hereby declare that I shall be deemed to have survived such person.

IV.  BEQUESTS:

I will, give and bequeath unto the persons named below, if he or she survives me, the Property described below:

Name: Edwin Decker

Relationship: Friend

Property: To Ed, I leave my stockpile of Oseltamivir. I’ve been stockpiling Tamiflu™ brand Oseltamivir (the best!) since 2005, the year I decided I wasn’t gonna just sit around and wait for the bird flu to take me down. When the shit hits the fan in ’09 — and mark my word, the poop is airborne and fan-bound—Ed Decker will be wise enough to do the right thing and reserve these Tamiflu™ capsules for sharing only with attractive women, who will hopefully be able to help him keep the species going. And he’s disciplined enough to withhold the drug from children, who shouldn’t do drugs and, at any rate, have been known to freak out on Tamiflu™ and jump off of buildings.

Name: Aaryn Belfer

Relationship: Friend

Property: To Aaryn, I leave 3,700 cans of Spaghetti-Os.  I began purchasing cases of Spaghetti-Os in 1999, in preparation for the Y2K global computer meltdown that promised to plunge the civilized world into chaos and then, so they say, didn’t. I don’t enjoy eating Spaghetti-Os any more than the next poor sap, but anyone paying attention knows the stuff is hardcore survival food, made from the round, screaming, beige-lipped mouths of small Italian super-fishes. Aaryn is a mom. She’s got a nice kitchen and, I’m guessing, an electric can opener. She seems like she’d know how to ration Spaghetti-Os fairly among the few remaining residents of the College Area before the swine flu wipes everything East of I-5 right off the goddamn map. A can of Spaghetti-Os can also be used as a blunt force weapon, Aaryn. Good luck fighting off the goners to reach the boat hospital.

Name: Enrique Limón

Relationship: Friend

Property: Enrique gets my regulation military Radiation Suit. I picked this baby up at the Bargain Center in North Park back in ’86 after the Chernobyl disaster. We all knew it was just a matter of time before San Onofre melted down like an M&M in a glow-in-the-dark hand. What secret is that creepy giant brassiere still hiding? ’Rique, I’m giving you a real NBC suit (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical). I don’t know if it’ll keep the swine flu out, but if you survive the pandemic, you’re definitely gonna wanna wear it to the 2012 apocalypse that the Mayans so eerily accurately predicted.

Name: Seth Combs

Relationship: Friend

Property: Refrigerator full of Ciprofloxacin. A few weeks after 9/11, Bush’s pet goat kept visiting Seth Combs in dreams and chewing on his blazer. When Seth told me this story, I knew two things right away: 1. It’s likely that I was only dreaming that he told me this. 2. He is a kindred spirit. In my case, 9/11 engendered an overwhelming, almost pathologically Ayn Randian sense of self-importance, which eventually gave way to a suspicion that the Pennysaver contained anthrax. Hence, I bought enough Cipro antibiotic on the black market to either make 14 gallons of non-organic milk or save an entire congressional office from a terrorist attack. It’s no secret that several disgruntled “alternative rock” musicians in this town have been trying to slip Seth some biological agent since 2007. Seth, after the flu brings this town to its knees, it still won’t have wiped out every shitty emo band in North County who has it in for you. Take my Cipro—and beware of envelopes.

Name: AnnaMaria Stephens

Relationship: Friend

Property: My garage arsenal goes to AnnaMaria, and that includes the assault rifles, all of the ammo and the graphite harpoon. I’m sure she already knows why she gets the weapons. It’s because she’s the one who’ll lead the Southwest Region after the apocalypse. Godspeed, Commander Stephens.

 V.  ADDITIONAL POWERS OF THE EXECUTOR:  My Executor shall have the following additional powers with respect to my estate, to be exercised from time to time at my Executor’s discretion without further license or order of any court:

My Executor has the right to confiscate any of the above property from any of the above named so-called friends, if it can be documented that there are fewer than three degrees of separation between them and Donald Rumsfeld.

VI.  OPTIONAL PROVISION:  I direct that upon my inevitable death from the swine flu, my remains be buried at Greenwood Memorial Park in San Diego, but that my brain first be removed and destroyed to ensure that I am not reborn a zombie.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I, D.A. Kolodenko hereby set my hand to this last Will on this day of May 6, 2009, inside a secure, underground bomb shelter at an undisclosed location, somewhere in California.

Write to dak@sdcitybeat.com and editor@sdcitybeat.com.