July 15, 2002 | 11:00 AM

Michelle�s Great Aunt Heidi was 89 years old and sick and dying and worried about what would become of her body upon passing away.

Cremation seemed to her the most tasteful option, but there was the question of what to do with the ashes.

The most joyful time in Heidi�s life was her early childhood, which was spent on a farm. It would be the perfect eternal resting-place.

The only problem was that the land was now owned and occupied by someone else�a Mr. J. Lawrence Kipple, dairy farmer and (unbeknownst to the community) marijuana grower.

This was a bit of an obstacle. But Heidi was smart, and she thought and thought and thought and thought some more. Several days before her death, she came up with the perfect solution.

To her will Heidi added a codicil stating that whichever member of her family would be so kind as to do a drive by middle of the night ashes sprinkling on her former abode would inherit an extra $5,000. However, if no one was willing to take responsibility for fulfilling this request, none of her relatives would receive any legacy and Heidi�s entire estate would be turned over to the local Democratic Party.

When Heidi passed away and her children and nieces and nephews and grandchildren and great children gathered for the reading of the will, they were shocked.

The members of Heidi�s well to do family were incredulous. Was she honestly insisting that someone should hop Farmer Kipple�s fence in the middle of the night and let loose the burnt debris of her dead body? What about Farmer Kipple�s famed mad guard dogs? Legend had it they had once torn a tresspasser to pieces.

The family spent several days discussing the matter, and finally everyone agreed on drawing straws as it seemed the fairest method of choosing someone to dump the remains..

The short straw was drawn by Albert, Heidi�s thirty five-year-old nephew, who ostensibly was involved in the family�s canning business, but spent much of his time snorting cocaine and continuously remodeling his small ranch home

Albert took Heidi�s urn home and it sat on the dresser for several days. His anxiety over the situation was nearly unbearable. He could not bring himself to hop Farmer Kipple�s fence. Nor could he bring himself to give up the extra cash or anger his family.

It was the greatest existential conflict of his life.

And then, a light shown down from heaven above.

It was Monday morning and Albert�s driveway was being repaved. Albert walked outside and casually mentioned to the workmen that they were more than welcome to take a break, come inside, and have some freshly brewed coffee and Danish. The workmen readily accepted.

When the coast was clear, Albert took the urn out from under his robe and dumped it on the driveway where it would shortly be covered up by another coat of tar.

After chucking the urn in the garbage can by the curb, Albert promptly journeyed back into his house. He informed the workmen that their break was over. They had scarcely bitten into their Danishes.

Fucking cheap bastard, one of them muttered under his breath.

Albert was too happy to fire the guy.

Albert watched the men pave over his Aunt and heaved a sigh of relief. He pulled a bullet of cocaine from his pocket and tooted a quick bump.

All was right with the world.

Everyone got their legacy, and no one was the wiser.