Dampier, WA – Mark Grampings, 56, decided to leave nothing to chance after he saw an ad on TV that scared him into getting his will sorted with a local attorney.
Facing the reality that nothing lasts forever – especially blokes that drink 3 cartons of Carlton Dry a week and eat Hungry Jacks at least once a day – Mark got on the phone to a local lawyer to assist him with getting his affairs in order in the event that something terrible happened.
In a cruelly ironic twist of events. Mark passed away the following day of a quadruple bypass, mid-way through his second double quarter pounder and large chocolate sundae.
Following the funeral and usual mourning period associated with such tragic events, his three kids were forced to meet with the lawyer and discuss the terms of his will.
“Terribly sorry to hear about your dad,” said local lawyer Markos Dodginos.
“Here, I have his complete Will and have printed out a copy for each of you.”
The will was distributed amongst the kids and they suddenly looked confused. Printed in the centre of the paper was the following:
Don’t touch my fucken sounder.
Don’t even think about ejecting the SD card in there – I’ve got coordinates from when you lot were just a twinkle in my nut sack.
In the event of my untimely passing, you are to shove that thing under my rigamortis arm and it shall stay there henceforth into eternity.
These are my wishes.
Those coordinates are sacred.
His kids looked bewildered and appealed to the lawyer.
“What about his house? His Boat? The three cars?” They questioned.
“Well,” said Markos.
“He told me verbatim that he couldn’t give a fuck about that stuff and you lot can just go to war over it. He just repeated several times that he didn’t want anyone pulling up reds at his favourite honey hole.”
Rumour has it that somewhere in the Karratha cemetery, lies a man buried with one of the most comprehensive fishing maps known to man, coordinates that span the length of the North West coast and would make any seasoned fisherman weak in the knees.
