My mom likes clippings. She likes to gather little newspaper articles and magazine factoids and all sorts of little literary goodness, divide them into piles, and then send them out to her daughters.
I get a lot of cartoons. They’re on 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 if he were on death row: collard greens, cornbread (with a fork, Lynne Beardsley), 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. We’re all clear where I stand on this.
4) Donuts. I don’t care where from. I need to leave this world with donut gunk 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 and orange preserves smothered all over it. Melts in your mouth. Tastes like candy! Pork: be inspired.
7) Mom’s rhubarb-apple crisp. If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Oops. Those were the lyrics from the Band Perry. If I die young, just smear rhubarb juice on my face and call it a day. You guys got better stuff to do.
8) A raspberry lambic from JK’s. With Jeni. Because whatever I did to land me in jail, she probably assisted with.
9) Strawberry crepes from Crepes, Etc. in St. Louis. Those crepes are so good you don’t need a reason.
10) Queso from Cebollas in Fort Wayne. Because cheese makes you dream. (That’s what their 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?