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The witnessess in the gallery became very still as the curtain was drawn back to reveal the condemned man. And there he lay; just a sad looking old man strapped to a bed. Could have been any of their fathers or grandfathers. Just a man. No sign behind his eyes of the hundred and one murders, each careful and unique making him impossible to profile. He'd been silent from the day he was caught and had promised his arresting officer he would tell all with his last words and not one second sooner.
So he waited with everyone else.
The head turn-key said a brief word to the gallery. Reporters, family members, and politicians all squirmed in their seats as he finished with the pre-amble.
"...until you are dead, do you have any last words?"
"Ya, okay. I could tell me some story and maybe you could know why I done it. Herman was in the restaurants one day. Now hims is scared of people who caught the gay. "oh dear," said Herm to hisseff, "they is wantin to fuck m'all." "No we don't," said gay Gary lookin up from his menu at the sound of Herma's out-loud inside-voice ,"If you'd like to get fucked, you just go play hide'n'gofuckyourself" So Herman did. Also, I got the clap one time. Thas called a allegory, unnastand?."
Without prejudice, the switch was flipped. The turn-key hid the faintest of smirks behind a cough as the doctor pronounced the time of death.
John Davis, a reporter for the Associated Press, was present that day. He faithfully wrote the prisoner's last words verbatim, unaware everyone else in the room was in on the old "Switchero Fake Last Words" gag - boy did he look like an idiot when he found out it was his old pal Merle from the mailroom dressed up in a rubber mask that sniffed the gas!
That Merle; boy, what a card he was.
Date Written: June 02, 2004
Average Vote: 3.5