Blackhumouristpress's Blog

December 6, 2011

Inheritance Day

“Before we get started, I just wanted to give each of you a calendar for 2012 from our law firm as a token of our sincere condolences regarding the death of your loved one. It has our web address, email addresses and phone numbers in the event that any of you would require our services going forward… Now then I will need a check made out to our firm in the amount of $375.00 for the consultation that occurred between our office and your mother prior to her death back at the beginning of the month.  We generally bill on the last day of the month and with your mother’s passage on the 28th of November, it would have been impossible to bill and collect prior to her passing.  I just want to explain our billing process so that everyone here is aware of the charges prior to the time today…”

            Maricella DiMaria Woechichowski passed on Wednesday in her sleep in her modest frame house in Hamtramck, Michigan, just north of the city of Detroit.  Mary, as she was called, arrived on Ellis Island at the age of two and eventually migrated with her family to Detroit.  Around the time of World War II was when married Maricella married Wochek.  Wochek was a hard working weekend alcoholic who ignored his Italian beauty for the most part.  They had a daughter by the name of Cynthia in 1945 and then James in 1960.  Both children of Maricella were present at the attorney’s office on Monday morning following the wake Friday night and the funeral on Saturday.

            Jimmy sat slouched, chewing his thumb nail in a pair of faded and torn blue jeans with a pair of black high top gym shoes.  He wore a black leather coat and a black t shirt with the name of his band emblazoned in white.  Jimmy slipped off his jacket to be comfortable, showing off an array of skulls, grim reaper tattoos as well as winged angels.  Everyone studied the name of the band, Death March written in gothic, Nazi Germany script.  Jimmy and his girlfriend Zanna never figured out why Cindy, her husband and the attorney, stared at the two of them. 

            Zanna looked like Jimmy from behind in that she wore similar jeans and had an identically black dye job on shoulder length feathered hair.  Zanna wore a brightly colored roach clip from her hair and suede boots that came up to her knees.  She was Albanian with a thick New York City/Brooklyn accent and had been with Jimmy for three years after seeing one of his concerts and buying a skull necklace off of him from his crafts display that accompanied band t-shirts and CDs.  Zanna glared back at Cynthia and her husband as she chewed strawberry bubble gum, careful never to smear the lip gloss from her lips.  Cynthia’s husband Tom stealthily admired Zanna’s firm fake tits that filled out her baby doll T-shirt quite well.

            Cindy looked old enough to be her brother’s mother.  She looked matronly even though she never gave birth to a child.  Cindy had always been in love with Dachshunds so Tom bought her a ranch so that Cindy could breed Dachshunds on the gulf side of Florida.  Cindy’s husband worked as a personal assistant to a televangelist and motivational speaker.  They had two homes in Florida, six cars, a boat and forty Dachshunds.  They had a team of undocumented Mexican helpers watching over the brood of dogs as they made the pilgrimage to Detroit on interstate 75 in their RV from Tampa Bay. 

Jimmy loved skulls and singing about death and Satan and Cindy was part of the Evangelical women’s group at Church that helped raise money for born-again single mothers in Senegal.  Jimmy screamed incoherent lyrics through an octave divider that lowered his voice and distorted it so that nobody could detect that he had no pitch while banging distorted chords on a Flying V guitar.  His fans were angry suburban boys in their teens.  Cindy sang in the women’s choir at church while playing an organ.  Most of the songs she sang were two hundred years old.  Jimmy never moved out of his parent’s home and Cindy moved out at the age of twenty-three.  After three failed marriages, Cindy found god and a wealthy man.  Jimmy never married but had a slew of fragile relationships that one might experience in junior high.  Jimmy believes that Zanna is a keeper.

            “Ok…  So James will be given title to the home in Hamtramck and everything in it as well as the 1987 Lincoln Continental and Cindy will receive $352,000.00 that are in certificates of deposit.  The following messages are to be read to each of you prior to signing any documentation…  Jimmy, you were always such a good boy but so dumb in many ways.  You graduated high school in 1978 and never grew up.  The music you play hurts people’s ears.  You wear clothes that nobody wears anymore and have a haircut that makes you look like an ugly woman.  You got this dog walking thing that you started in Gross Pointe and I think it shows that you are worried a little bit for your future.  Don’t waste all your money on Marijuana.  I know you still sit up in your room and smoke Marijuana.  It is no secret.   After thirty five years of smelling it in my house, I have become accustomed to the distinct odor.  You’re 51 years old and still go to those shows with high school kids, play video games and do drugs.  It is time to grow up.  This New York girl you got now is nothing but a user.  You want some companionship and like your poppa used to say; a piece of ass is nothing but a drain on your life.  You get her pregnant and you are going to regret it.  I’m guessing in her early forties that she could still have a few.  You were always good to me and took care of me despite the fact that you had no ambition.  Never any back talk.  You were a good boy.  You get the house.  I paid the taxes for the next two years.  You have to make enough money and put away for utilities and taxes.  You got to cut the lawn and take out the trash.  Nobody will tell you to do that no more…  Now then, Cindy…  You were an angry child who blamed me for not leaving your father years ago but then went on to marry three men who were angry drunks.  You hated life for not being able to have children.  You hated Detroit so much that you could never come to see me.  I would call you and you would never answer.  I would get blanket Christmas cards addressed to everyone you knew with all those Dachshunds dressed up like reindeer every year with some kind of a re-cap of your life with Carl and all those dogs.  You could never just write me a personal card, it always had to be some long winded thing about you and dogs and your women’s group and about some people you don’t even know in Africa.  Did you really dislike me that much?  You traveled to Alaska in an RV but could never make it to see your mother in Michigan.  You use religion as a crutch for your great unhappiness.  You were a good looking girl with a scowl on her face and have become a lumpy senior citizen with a permanent frown.  I want to thank you for coming to my funeral if you in fact made it and hope that your dogs all cry at your funeral along with the people you’ve never met in Africa.  I suspect you’ll die and a few people at that Protestant Church will sing a few songs and say a few nice things for you and then they’ll have coffee cake and punch and they will need to try and figure out who will play the organ at the services going forward. Sadly, we are all replaceable. My only goal in life was to be a good wife and a good mother.  Once you two grew up, I realized I missed the boat on the most important thing in life which was to make myself happy. 

            So you sat in a foreign Catholic Church in Detroit and listened to some young fellow say some nice things about an old lady he never knew.  Something about god calling his flock home and so on.  While this was all going on, you were probably taking a head count and were wondering what it was going to cost to feed all those people you didn’t know.  For this reason, I want you to have all my money that was really saved by your father who saved every extra cent and never did anything with that money.  We never went anywhere or saw anything.  Money should make you happy, Cynthia.  The only home you’ve ever known should be a comfort to you, Jimmy.  Alright.  I did my job as a wife and as a mother.  You kids were not easy and your father was a bastard but I made it through.  Getting a job seating people at a restaurant in Greektown was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.  I sat trapped in the house my whole life and then when your father passed, I got a job seating people. They asked if I was Greek and I told them that as a Sicilian. I looked Greek.  That was good enough for them.  I met so many people over the last twenty five years.  I met some really nice people and some not so nice.  I met old and young, rich and poor.  People of all kinds of colors and shades.  If I had to do it all over, I would do it differently as would most people.  There is still time on the clock for you both.  Figure out what makes you happy and just be happy.  Happiness is all there really is.  You should not die unhappy because that would truly be sad.  Alright then, enjoy the gifts and don’t squander them.  I had a good life.  Momma loves you.

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