by Emily Falshaw

Created on: February 04, 2009   Last Updated: February 06, 2009

I've never understood the concept of offering condemned men and women a final meal of their choice. To me, it seems to offer little or no consolation. No matter what the prisoner orders, they're still going to die, very publicly, and very soon. It's as if the State is saying, "No hard feelings, but we're going to kill you anyway."

I've never really contemplated what I'd order for a last meal. I mean, I don't ever plan to find myself on death row, and the fact I'm Canadian means I'd have to try pretty hard to end up there. The only other context I can think of that involves ordering a last meal is being terminally ill in hospital. But death is hard even for doctors to predict, unless they plan to pull the plug. And in order for them to consider doing that, feeding myself would be a skill far beyond my capabilities, let alone choosing what I'd want to eat.

So, I'm imagining I'm a condemned prisoner, and that I'm going to die tomorrow. I still don't have any cravings flowing through me, except possibly for a good stiff drink. And that is apparently against the rules, as it "dulls the senses." That too blows my mind; why do I need to be fully functioning in order to die?

Perhaps there's some historical context I can turn to in order to make up my mind. The most famous last meal was that of Jesus Christ and his Disciples. That was a pretty dull and somber affair: bread and wine. And for the above-mentioned reason, wine would be off the menu, so my meal would consist of bread. I think I'll give it a miss.

Other famous last meals include shrimp, KFC and a pound of strawberries for John Wayne Gacy, Timothy McVeigh had two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and Saddam Hussein apparently had boiled chicken, rice and hot water seasoned with honey. Of these ideas, only the strawberries appeal to me. I love ice cream, but if I were to order that, not only would I be dying tomorrow, I would be freezing while I waited for it.

My search for historical inspiration is fruitless, so I suppose I have to make up my own mind.

After much deliberation, a fantastic idea strikes me:

For my last meal, I would order chiri - a soup made from puffer fish. Apparently if it's prepared incorrectly, it can cause all kinds of symptoms, like dizziness, vomiting, muscle paralysis, and even death within 24 hours of consumption. I would take my chances and die on my own terms. The only problem with this is I absolutely hate seafood, and probably couldn't bring myself to eat it.

So, with chiri off the menu, I have one choice left. Historically, the last meal was offered to the condemned as a way of making peace. By accepting the freely offered food, the prisoner was not blaming the judge, executioner or ensuing mob for their death, and subsequently agreeing not to haunt these parties once the deed was done.
So, final answer, for my last meal I would order nothing. I think I would find much more comfort in haunting my killers than in the empty gesture of eating my last meal.

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