THENEWYORKER,FEBRUARY 17 &24, 2020 39
SHOUTS & MURMURS
LUCI GUTIÉRREZ
Dear Relatives,
If you are reading this, I am dead.
Or I am close to death. Or you have
been snooping through my papers.
Let’s assume that I am dead. I
hereby request that you, my rela-
tives and kin, carry out my wishes re-
garding the following:
MY LETTERS: As you will see in the
garage, boxes No. 12 through 26 con-
tain my letters. I have saved every let-
ter I have ever received, including let-
ters from collection agencies. Please
go through the letters, reading each
one, and divide them into important
and unimportant letters.
I donate the important letters to
you, my relatives, to divide fairly among
yourselves. I urge you to go back
through the “unimportant” letters and
see if there might still be some im-
portant ones in there.
MY PETS: Please adopt and provide
loving homes for my dogs, Snappy and
Bitey; my cat, Sprayer; and my goldfish,
Methuselah.
MY CLOTHING: Please help yourself to
my suits. You will notice that, because
of my unusual physique, the suit pants
are size Extra Extra Large and Extra
Extra Extra Large, while the suit jack-
ets are size Tiny and Extra Tiny.
MY LIBRARY: Please donate my col-
lection of books—all five of them—to
the local library.
PORNO: Also, please donate my por-
nography collection (boxes 30 to 45)
to the local library.
MY COINS: In the attic, you will find
many, many quart jars of pennies. I’m
not sure how many. Please spend these
pennies on whatever you would like.
You may want to cash them in at the
bank. However, I’m told that banks
will not accept pennies unless they are
wrapped in coin wrappers. Maybe that
could be a family project, to remem-
ber me by.
MY GUNS: As some of you know, I
have many guns, scattered throughout
the house. Most are loaded, so please
be careful opening drawers, closets,
and medicine cabinets.
MY PUSH LAWNMOWER: Please donate
this to Goodwill, after first cleaning
off all the bits of grass and dog poop
that have got stuck on it over the
years. Also, please sharpen the blades
with the hand sharpener (somewhere
in box 28). Oil and rebalance the
wheels.
MY CAR: Sorry, but it’s still stuck in
the surf at Party Beach. It’s yours if
you can tow it out.
MY “MURDER”: Please send an anon-
ymous letter to the police, claiming
that my friend Don killed me.
MY SAFE-DEPOSIT BOX: Attached to
this letter is a key. It is the key to my
safe-deposit box. Take the key to the
bank and open the box. Inside you will
find another key. This is the spare key
to the box. Take both keys to the bank
officer in charge of safe-deposit boxes
and close out the account. You may
have to fill out some paperwork and
pay for back rent.
TRAPDOOR: The trapdoor no longer
works. I think the neighborhood kids
broke it. Please cover the button with
a piece of duct tape.
SKULL: As you’ve probably noticed,
there is a human skull on the shelf in
the dining room. This was sold to me
as the skull of Khrushchev, the Rus-
sian leader. It was a damned lie! I
don’t even think it’s Russian! Still, it’s
pretty cool. First dibs gets it. (Sug-
gestion: as a funny gag, put a ciga-
rette between its teeth, like he’s smok-
ing it.)
MY WIND CHIMES: As you know, I have
more than a hundred wind chimes
hanging down from the eaves of
my house. Please help yourself. Un-
fortunately, some of the wind chimes
have been damaged by the next-door
neighbors.
MY REMAINS: Please have me cre-
mated. Then form the ashes into the
shape of me. Then deep-fry me. Then
bury me with full military honors (even
though I was never in the military).
MY HOUSE: A real-estate agent told
me that my house, if it were totally
renovated (plumbing, electrical, roof,
etc.), and if the bats and raccoons and
yellow jackets could be expelled from
the attic, and if somehow the house’s
“tilt” could be fixed, would sell for about
what I paid for it forty years ago.
I smell another family project!
TO MY RELATIVES
BY JACK HANDEY
