Jimminy Christ Crackers, could your life be any more of a boring mess?

Six months out of college, no job in sight, and a fridge with nothing in it but peanut butter, half of last nights ramen noodles in an empty 'I can't believe it's not butter" tub and a tube of 'Mr. Fisty's Ho-Ho Frosting in a tube!' you might be able to get one last squeeze out of if you curled it up real good. You think about hitting Sharleen up for enough money to get a microwave beef-n-bean at the check cashing/Korean nail shop you live over and then remember for the umpteenth time that Sharleen dumped you because 'even among 'Doctor Who' enthusiasts you're kind of a wiener'. If it wasn't for your old pal Skip, the ancient, half blind obsessive compulsive wire hair terrier you've had since childhood that your parents wouldn't take back if it 'came glued to a fallout shelter and there was a nuclear war going on' you'd be all alone.

Sighing a heavy sigh, you cram the last of the anti obsessive compulsive pills under Ol' Skips tongue, clamp his muzzle shut so he'll swallow, tuck him under your arm and go down to check the mail. Who knows, maybe you're ship has finally come in? Ha ha ha.

Bill, bill, bill, credit card offer, mail for the dead guy that lived in your apartment before you, credit card offer, bill, bill, real thick letter with your name and address hand calligraphed, local Chinese takeout menu, bill-

Now wait a sec there. What's this real thick letter all about? Hmmmm.... No return address, but its postmarked 'Olde North Fester by the Sea, Maine'. That rings a bell, isn't that where your great Uncle, Caleb VanPeskyparts, the eccentric weasel oil baron who disowned your fathers side of the family many years ago over what Grandmaw always called 'That business with the foot pump and the clamps' lived in a huge old mansion on a cliff all by himself? Or maybe it's the birth place of "Hoo-hoo" the old time chocolaty flavored soda-pop you heard about of the Food Network before your cable got shut off.

Well, since it turns out to be a lot of legal forms from a 'Mister Pendleton X. Queez, esq.' licensed notary public and executor of the estate of the late Caleb VanPeskyparts, it's probably not the place where the soda pop came from, which seems a shame since you now have a powerful 'Hoo-Hoo' hankering.

Lets just see what this letter says...

Dear Mr. (READER SAYS NAME OUT LOUD TO THEMSELVES HERE);

First, let me apologize for referring to you as mister if in fact the reader of this 'Select Your Destiny' on-line computer text game (for the sake of your enjoyment, please pretend I didn't say that) is a lady and not a 'dude'.

Second, it is my sad duty to inform you of the passing of your Great Uncle Caleb VanPeskyparts, and to let you know that you, (READER SAYS NAME OUT LOUD TO THEMSELVES HERE) have been named in the Last Will and Testament.

To claim the goods and or services bequeathed to you, you need only attend a reading of the will which is to take place the day after tomorrow at the old VanPeskyparts estate...

PRETEND YOU HEAR SPOOKY LIGHTNING!!

...perched precariously atop the dangerously eroded cliff overlooking the Ocean in Olde North Fester by the Sea, Maine; and also to perform the task described in the ridiculously quasi-legal goofy codicil. Which the Late Mr. VanPeskyparts recorded for you prior to his death, and which I shall play once you and the other individuals named in the Will arrive.

Yours etc, etc, Pendleton Queez, Esq. LNP, (Licensed Notary Public)

P.S. A pre paid first class extra deluxe bus ticket has been provided for your convenience. Enjoy.

'Well!' you say giving Skip a gentle a squeeze to restart his breathing, "If that doesn't just smack your crackers!"
It seems like only yesterday the one memory you have of Old Great Uncle Caleb was taking place, where he invited you down to his basement laboratory, took you off to a dusty corner, did something so presumably unspeakable you've repressed the memory and then disowned your Father's entire side of the family. Good times.

"Haaurghph!" Skip expectorates, and you:

• Tear up the letter in disgust.
  
  
• Start a packin'!
  
  
• Beat a path to the corner 'Quickly Mart' to satisfy your 'Hoo-hoo' Jones.
  
  
• On a hunch, open the letter to the dead guy who lived in your apartment before you.