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?