last meals

Vacation lunch: a peanut butter, banana, caramel, and raisin sandwich. Elvis, you ain't got nothin' on me, boy.


My mom likes clippings. She gathers little newspaper articles and magazine factoids and all sorts of little juicy goodness, divides them into piles, and then send them out to her daughters.

I get a lot of cartoons. I think she knows they’re at my level.

One article, however, was on last meals. The author was from the south, and he described with alarming alacrity what he would eat: collard greens, cornbread, BBQ . . .

Those didn’t top my death food list. But here’s what did:

1) Mom’s pepperoni pizza. The crust beats Giordano’s. Stuff it, Windy City folk. It’s true.

2) Mom’s Mexican chicken. It’s basically Velveeta on rice. Best. Comfort. Food. Ever.

3) Panera’s mango smoothie. I don’t think I can be clearer where I stand on this.

4) Donuts. I don’t care where they’re from; I just need to leave this world with donut sticky on my fingers.

5) Mom’s pork burgers. And lemonade. (That’s if I die in July because that only works in the summer.)

6) Mom’s pork loin. She makes this great, tender pork with mango-ish, orange preserves smothered all over it. Melts in your mouth. Tastes like candy!

7) Mom’s rhubarb-apple crisp. I could just smear rhubarb juice on my face and call it a day. That’s how fabulous it is.

8 ) A raspberry lambic from JK’s. With my BFF. Because whatever I did to land me in jail, she probably assisted with.

9) Strawberry crepes.  Because I rock at crepe-making.

10) Queso from Cebollas in Fort Wayne. Because cheese makes you dream. (That’s what the menu says. Don’t look at me!)

Realizing my final meal for a crime I didn’t commit in a prison that doesn’t exist is now turning into somewhat of a banquet, it’s your turn. What would your last meal be?

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