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A battle of wills (standard:drama, 2003 words)
Author: Robin WyersAdded: Jul 31 2001Views/Reads: 3950/2416Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A black comedy,examining the strategies that one might avail of, in order to acquire vast fortunes through inheritance.
 



A battle of wills 1 Is he ever going to die? Yes, moralists perhaps to
the naked ear that statement may sound a little harsh – ‘your own 
father?’ I hear you ask, but this man has been toiling with death for 
weeks and only his age old gift of blind luck is holding him in pieces. 
A roller-skate left suspiciously on the stairs! A normal person might 
have watched where they were going, especially someone who has been 
prone to discovering inanimate objects lying around them in threatening 
manners recently. A dimwit may have gone for a ride, and subsequently 
died – my father took that ride, got flung through the air and landed 
safely in his comfy chair. And I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’ve got 
to get out of that bad habit of rhyming when I’m angry! 

But what can I possibly do? The man simply won’t undergo decease! Why
should I relish the death of my poor aging father, entering the winter 
of his days, I hear you ask (you’re very nosey I might add)? Why can’t 
you be more like your sister who takes care of the old man day and 
night? You don’t even have to do that, but couldn’t you at least come 
and visit him more than once a fortnight? Well, as you presumably know, 
the computer industry is a competitive and fast-moving one, where 
fortunes may change hands in the blink of an eye. I’ve got to be there 
and make that blink and waiting that extra few months for the old man 
to kick the bucket simply isn’t feasible! Nothing has a long shelf life 
in my field and besides I have to get this plan launched before 
somebody else ‘borrows’ my mouth-watering idea! I mean the two of us 
have never really gotten on anyway, but blood is thicker than water - 
I’m sure he’s left me quite a bit anyways, I’d do the same for him 
despite our differences. Admittedly I’m partly to blame for these 
‘differences’, as it was his dream that the business stayed in the 
family. But car manufacture is in the past now, computers are the 
growing sector and he can’t really blame me for wanting to try 
something different, can he? To be honest you have to admit that we 
would have gotten on a lot better if he would have lent me the money in 
the first place. In fact then I wouldn’t even have to take on any of 
these more drastic measures. I mean it’s not as if I’m asking for much 
is it? I only need a few grand to develop my game - the man’s loaded 
for Christ sake! It’s not as if it would have done him any harm, in 
fact if he’s really that stingy I could have given him back his 
investment five-fold, The Will to Kill as the working title for my 
strategy masterpiece is known, is bound to be a blockbuster. But he had 
to be difficult didn’t he? “I don’t trust you with all that money son, 
remember what happened last time?” he’d say. “But this time would be 
different, this time I’d be the winner”, but still the same negative 
response. No, hanging around this endless mansion isn’t much of a way 
to spend your Sunday afternoon, but perhaps today could be a luckier 
affair and by the end of the week, when the paper’s signed, I could be 
a rather rich man. Here he comes now, smile for the camera! “Hello 
father dearest, how was your drive?” 

2 “It was grand, thank you for asking but what are you doing mooching
around here Jimmy? Stop scheming for once in your life, and get up and 
do something useful”, I suggested. “Yes dear papa, in fact I was just 
about to have a check on what Doreen was doing with that whiskey” was 
his slimy reply. I don’t know what to say about that dear son of mine, 
but he’s up to something – always plotting and never working, the 
formula for trouble. For God sake – he’s in his mid-thirties and he 
still keeps popping up here every odd Sunday to scab a few quid off me. 
You’d think that by now he might have settled down to something more 
permanent than having to repeatedly come begging to his dad with 
another one of his wild easy money making schemes. I mean, Helen 
running out on him couldn’t have been easy, but that’s the reason she 
left him in the first place – he can’t settle down to anything at all, 
apart from these foolish quick fixes he keeps coming up with. I was 
amazed myself last month when he came over to me with some plan for a 
‘console’ video game, in the hope that I might lend him twenty grand to 
launch his ‘venture’. “What’s this game about then?,” I asked. His 
detailed explanation was, “Basically it’s a game of cat and mouse, an 
attempt at out-smarting your opponent – searching for a weakness in 
their tactics. It depends how many’s playing, but say I was playing 
against you, Dad. We both choose a character - we might be siblings for 
example. We both have a wealthy aging relative with vast assets and 
therefore a substantial will. The two of us would battle it out to get 
into the relative’s good books, perhaps by undermining their opponent 
with little white lies or maybe through some simple ass-kissing. It 
doesn’t matter – as long as the relative becomes convinced that you are 
the rightful heir. Once the will is signed, you can simply wait until 


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