Monday, January 24, 2011

A Pocket Sized Story: Take It With You When You Go

Under 40
What do I want? Last night I dreamed of fried chicken and ice cream. A pleasure fest. Pizza dipped in ranch dressing. Lacks some dignity. Is it time for dignity? Something stylish. Sushi. Something smart. Soup. Turtle Soup. Yeah, real avant-garde like that. Rooster Balls. They’ll think this guys been places. Even better, I won't order anything. I’m not hungry. Would someone be insulted by that? Please. Last meals have to be under forty dollars. They told me in a formal letter. I should eat the letter.

“I want a Happy Meal,” I tell the Warden. “And some scratch-offs.”

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