Thread: Your Last Meal

Okay, the game is to describe your last meal. You are on death row and being served. No restrictions on length but try to keep it to a paragraph.

* * *

My mouth watered at the plate set before me. Juice glistened on the Kangaroo steak and pooled below it saturating some of the thick cut sweet potato fries. The guard looked sympathetic, or maybe he just wanted my steak. He set a 3 year old bottle of Malbec on the table after filling my glass. I swirled it, sniffed deeply and took a taste. Perfect. The guard clicked on a radio and Jazz permeated the room. He left me alone. I pushed the field green salad aside and dove into the steak. My taste buds cheered at the cool red center. For the moment, my impending doom left my mind.

* * *

I payed no attention to the preacher sitting silently in the corner as I lay on my cot. I studied at the same crack on the same ceiling that I'd been studying for the past year of my life. I heard a louder buzzer and my cell door slammed open. Looking up I caught a look of disgust from Carl, the death row CO, as he dropped a plate at the foot of my bed. He spat some harsh words at me, but I payed no attention to him, or the preacher who shot a couple rough words back at him. I dove savagely at the plate of chicken wings I had ordered. Just like the local pub at home, fifty juicy wings of assorted flavors. Grabbing the first one I offered it to Carl, but as he reached to receive it I pulled it away and fingered him. As he left grumbling I had my last laugh and sunk my teeth into the tender meat. I cleaned every one dry with sheer delight. When I had finished, I sucked the remaining flavor out of all of the cleaned bones and laid back on my cot. Again studying the familiar crack on the ceiling I sighed softly and looked forward to my final release.