Stultifying tension hung like impending doom in the lawyer’s office as Harvette Haselmeyer’s relatives awaited the reading of the will. They were divided between the children from the first marriage and the second husband. Harvette had made a fortune with her shampoo and conditioner products. She made Paul Mitchell look like a failure. Here her hair heirs heard the lawyer rip open the envelope.
“Being of sound mind and body—“
“No she wasn’t,” snapped Harvette’s son Harry.
“Oh yes she was.” Her hairy chested second husband Harold chuckled.
This horrified Hortense to no end. “That’s my mother you’re sniggering about!”
Harold shook his shoulder-length hair and harrumphed out loud.
The harried hair heiress flared her nostrils and raised her eyebrows. “You don’t deserve to be a hair heir, you whore!”
“Here, here,” the attorney hollered, trying to halt the harangue. “Her ears must be burning, wherever she might be, at all this hysteria. “Being of sound mind and body I hereby leave my daughter Hortense a lifetime supply of Harvette shampoos, gels and conditioners. Goodness knows she needs them.”
“Hardy har har,” Harold chortled.
“To my son Harry I bequeath nothing because I still hold horrible heart-felt suspicions that he poisoned his father and my wonderful husband Herman Haselmeyer and would have done me in too if my handsome horseman Harold hadn’t ridden into my life.”
“That just proves mother was hare-brained!” Harry howled. “All three grand juries refused to indict me!”
“Poor helpless, hapless Harry, e’er ‘til the day I die, nary a hint of horseradish will pass my lips for fear Harry hath tainted it.”
“There Harold goes again, hasty to harp on his Harvard degree in Thomas Hardy.”
“Hardly!” Harold happened to be hot under the collar, hurt that Harry would hint such a thing.
“And to my hunky husband Harold I leave my horse Hildegard and a monthly stipend of a thousand dollars to keep Hildegard in high-grade oats for the rest of her life.”
“Hardy har har right back at you, whore!” Hortense hurled horrendous insults at Harold. “Hoisted on your own petard!”
“But the rest of the money?” Harold heaved a sigh that could be heard in heaven.
“Oh, it goes to me.” The lawyer stood, hovering over the horde of unhappy heirs. “Harold, Harry, Hortense, Harvette was indeed horny and had a hankering for yours truly, Henry Harrison Hardeman the third.”
“Oh hell,” they exhaled.