Journal entry, 2/24/14: A leaf of cream-colored ruled paper that had been folded up into a tiny square, with the edges tucked inside of itself, was brought to Justice Minotaur today, unopened, by a fourteen-year-old boy who identified himself as Sylvan Shannara, nephew of the recently deceased Calrissian. The nephew, who had received a twelve-hour leave of absence from the mantuamaker he is apprenticed to, stated that he had been given the document about a year earlier by Calrissian with a command to “keep it secret; keep it safe–until my demise.” On the outside of the folded-up document it read in tiny block letters: “Last will and/or testamenteary of Lord Vader Calrissian.” Minotaur asked Shannara, Mr. Cornwall, and Lady I. Dorothy Cottonmouth, who was over taking tintypes of one of the newborn burros, to serve as witnesses to the reading of the will.
With the group sitting in the dining room of the compound around a newly acquired table that had been purchased at a bookmobile liquidation event to replace one hacked to pieces after an aborted art project, Minotaur proceeded slowly and solemnly, impressing in the minds of all the importance of the occasion.
After he had unfolded the document, a confused look crossed his face, and he muttered, “It appears to be written in cuneiform.” Then, turning the document 180 degrees (in a counterclockwise direction, but the direction of the turn doesn’t matter because in either direction the resulting orientation of a 180-degree turn is the same), he said, “Nevermind. Now all is revealed to me.”
Those at the table leaned forward to hear the final testament of a dead man being read in soberness by a great lawgiver, one who had presided at the reading of wills hundreds of times in his storied career. [Cornwall’s note: The following is a version of the will cleaned up into standard English. The original was written with atrocious grammar, spelling, and punctuation.]
“My friends, it is Calrissian. If you are reading this, I am probably carrion–or Shannara has betrayed my trust. If the latter is the case he will pay the uttermost farthing. You will remember I used to have a pretty nice Winnebago that I told you I had won in a contest, and you are probably hoping you are the one I decided to give it to. Too bad–I set it on fire and ghost-drove it off a cliff shortly before writing this last will. This was necessary because it was full of documents proving that I was, in fact, the escaped felon Copper Shears, the same who was convicted of terrorism related to the first New Salemite nuclear weapon ever developed. They say I was trying to fire the weapon on our own people, but in truth I was trying to sabotage it so that it could never be used to harm any creature. In any case, I was discovered in the missile silo by Sheriff Andrea del Sartorial, who caught me only because he was trying to sell the nuclear launch codes to the Siamese. I have wreaked a bloody vengeance on him with my own hands. His corpse was in the Winnebago too. I am a peace-loving man. Farewell.”
“Well, that was different,” Minotaur said, trying to make sense of what had just transpired. “I suppose we can all agree, no matter what we think of this situation or of Calrissian, that it is good for his sake, or ours, or both that Calrissian is safely in his grave.” (The “safely in his grave” was meant as a substitute term for “dead,” because Calrissian has not yet been buried.)