Well, I never thought this would happen, but Dad died, and well, everything's gotten quiet. All the paperwork is done, and well, I miss him. But life goes on, or that's what I thought.

Almost four years after he passed away, I got a letter in the mail looking for the executor of my dad's estate. So, I called up the lawyer, sent him the letter. Next thing I know, my lawyer is calling me, telling me I've got a package at his office from my dad. So, I'm not thrilled, and I am wigged out.

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I head down to the lawyer's, and what I get is a notebook, a pickaxe, and a key. I'm talking a weird old key, but it's got like eight teeth, and they go in different directions. It almost looks impossible to put into a lock because of how the directions the key looks. And a pickaxe, but not a big one, bigger than my hand, like for chipping stones.

So, I head home, grab some booze on the way home, and go sit and read whatever my dad sent me. What I wasn't expecting was the notebook had like only three pages written on it.