What a decision to make that last meal. 99.9 percent of us never get to choose our last meal. We will most likely end up with a belly full of nasty Wendy’s or a bowl of cereal before we take the big plunge into darkness.
Death row inmates have it a little different. They know years in advance that if the appeals don’t come through, they will have to make that call. What taste do I want on my tongue before it is replaced by the metallic taste of dying takes over.
Some, like John Wayne Gacy, go all out. Chicken, fries, and strawberries. Others, just a single olive with the pit still inside. I’ve given all this a lot of thought and my thought is…I hope I never have to pick out a last meal because that means I didn’t get to die randomly while I’m hanging with polar bears in Alaska or some other wonderfully hairy situation I should have never been in to begin with.
via (Touch Me!)