Let's pretend that I was on death row. I'm in a cell next to the guy who plays with the mouse and across from the guy who can't play the harmonica. I've found solace in the Lord and the heaviest decision on my heart is what to order for my last meal. What do I order? What would you order?
The rules set out for me is a meat and three sides, beverage and dessert. (I'll amend for four sides if you're vegetarian. No since in spending your last few hours being miserable before you're dead.) I'm such a glutton that it's really a hard decision for me to make.
The beverage part is hard in itself because I figure there isn't going to be any refills. And I like me some refills when I'm eating. It's really hard for me not to ask for a tall glass of silver label Patrone. I mean, if you're gonna die, you might as well go with a buzz, right?
Enough stalling, here's my last menu of choice:
Hamburger, medium-well, with lettuce, tomato, and A1 sauce, on a sweet-hawaiian bread bun.
Baked sweet potato with brown sugar and butter.
Mayfield's vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup on the side.
One tall glass of patrone.
(If they won't let me have alcohol, I'll take a tall glass of sweet tea with lemon on the side.)
And if the electricity goes off and they postpone my execution until morning:
Biscuits and white gravy.
Grits with butter, not too runny.
Scrambled eggs, not too runny.
One tall Mimosa.
(Or just plain OJ if they gyp me from the buzz again.)
But hopefully I'd get those stay people on my side and the govenor would have mercy. You'd call the gov for me, wouldn't you? Sure you would. Cause if you didn't I'd find out and then come haunt your sorry self for many years to come.
Good thing we covered this.
Sure, I totally stole this idea from The Vol Abroad, who stole it from Big Stupid Tommy. If you like, you can steal it from me and we'll have a whole circle of plagerist stealers!
Let the circle be unbroken-