The writing prompt for today is the following: “If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?”
I don’t know, Indian food? Probably. Pizza? I wouldn’t mind a couple of slices of that too. Do I get to have a Guinness or three with the meal?
Wait a minute – if I knew that whatever I would neat next was going to be my last meal, that would be heartbreaking! That means my last meal would be dinner tonight with my family. Even criminals on death row get more lead time to say goodbye to their loved ones and make peace with … whomever they make peace with. Me? I got less than 4 hours apparently. I don’t even have time to drive over to Spokane and see my oldest son who is in college! This sucks! What a horrible prompt!
I mean, if this were the case, and I got hungry before dinner, does a handful of chips count? Would I be struck dead after eating them? That would suck, especially if it were before my kids got home from school.
Great, now I’m hungry. And I’m going to have anxiety about being struck down if I eat. This isn’t helping any with my diet.
Oh, do I get desert? I want some form of chocolate. M&Ms would be good. It has to be a big bag though. Screw it. If it’s my last meal, I don’t need to worry about calories. Unless you get fat in heaven.
And what are the circumstances of the death? Am I on death row? I better have a good reason, such as ripping whomever it was that hurt my children apart, or going “postal” at the self checkout because the FU€*!nG machine won’t read my card and the toddler is in the basket trying to get out, the preschooler is running around back in aisle 3 and the other kids halfway out the door towards the parking lot. Seriously, it wasn’t worth the trip to the store to get the ingredients for my last meal. Screw it, just shoot me now.