Space Pirates Ltd.

Hello, friends. It has been some time. Those of you who do not post on the Boom Boom Forums may not recognize me, as I am a shadow of a past of an enigma of a boat, but I assure you what you’re seeing is no trick. This here is the real deal, so you’d better get used to it, shortcake.   As you may, but probably don’t know, Space Pirates Ltd. is a website. Some time ago, said website experienced a bit of “down time,” or as we in the “business” of arbitrary quotation mark use call it, “gown time.” No we do not wear dresses don’t be silly what is this charade we are not ladies! What we do during gown time doesn’t really concern you, but that’s not important. What is important is the change that occurred over that time. You see, as quaint and lovely and filled with tea parties as gown time may sound, the truth of the matter is it takes a heavy toll on people to lose their websites. It puts things in perspective, gets people thinking. It got me thinking, I’ll tell you what, and I started to wonder what would happen if my Internet voice box were permanently cut out. “They don’t make those robotic voice boxes, like that delightful Ned character has on South Park for CYBERSPACE!” said I, and suddenly I was filled with approximately a jillion woes. In that moment, I was surely one step closer to the edge and about to break, when a solution dawned on me like a bucket of Dawn in the eye. In order to carry on my legacy after my demise, I needed only one thing: a will.

The following is my will, to be carried out in the event of my death or if I’m cornered by a pretty big bee.

1. My corpse is to be converted into a marionette, which will be walked door to door by helicopter and made to dance for alms. The proceeds are to be donated toward a bigger helicopter. When my face has rotted away, a boom box or record player is to be placed around my neck that plays a looped track of whale songs. The people probably won’t know what the fuck.
2. Since I never had a puppy or kitty of my own, and my corpse will be busy doing business elsewhere, my coffin is to be filled to the brim with puppies and kitties that will accompany me to the afterlife. I am opposed to hurting these animals, so they should be dug up from nearby pet cemeteries and spatulaed up off of road sides. Flat kitties are acceptable as long as I can still pet them.
3. My headstone is to have the words “Dig here for tits” written on the front and be otherwise plain except for a decal somewhere of Calvin peeing on the Chevrolet logo.
4. Steve Figgatt is to be bent over and fucked. I don’t care who does it, just so long as it gets done.
5. To the visitors of Space Pirates Ltd. I leave my left pinkie toe, so long as it is never touched, looked at, or thought about. It is to be kept in a larger toe-shaped case that has the phrase, “THIS TOE COULD HAVE CURED CANCER BUT NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU DAMN DIRTY APES,” scrawled on it in Sharpie.
6. To Macho Man Randy Savage, I leave a quart of milk or something I don’t know but he is pretty great you should buy his rap album.
7. To this update, I leave an abrupt, stupid ending.