The Condemned Man
The prison officer watched as the condemned man tucked into his last meal on earth. The smell of eggs, bacon, pork sausages and hot buttered toast caused his mouth to water,
“bloody murderers, they eat better than I do”
He muttered casting his mind back to the bowl of cornflakes and the lukewarm tea he had consumed prior to leaving for his shift in the prison earlier that morning. Well the prisoner who was showing such relish in devouring breakfast would in half an hour’s time be dancing a gig on thin air, as the noose tightened choking the life out of him.
“Enjoy it while you can my friend” the jailer said outloud.
“Thank you. I will”, the prisoner replied popping half a sausage into his mouth.
“There’s a lot of grub on that there plate of yours. Fact is you seems to ‘ave as much now as you did when the waiter brought it ten minutes past”, the jailer said scratching his head in puzzlement.
The condemned man grinned, chewing a piece of thick back bacon with relish.
“How many pieces of bacon do you ‘ave on that there plate?” the warder asked, looking with envy at the platter which despite the attacks of the prisoner still groaned under the weight of mouth watering bacon, sausages and eggs.
“Tell you the truth, I don’t know”, the prisoner said as he took another slice of hot buttered toast from his side plate.
“Aint that cold?” the jailer asked pointing to the toast which had been sitting on the plate for some time past.
“Nah, it’s as fresh as when it was toasted over the fire” the prisoner said as he licked butter off his fingers.
The warder glanced at his watch.
“Angman will be ere in five minutes. Best get a move on Johny”, he said addressing the condemned man.
“But rules say the condemned man is allowed to finish his meal”, the convict said.
“And so ‘e is Johny. All I’m sayin is I’d appreciate it if you would get a move on finishing it as angman’s due any time now”, the warder said glancing, yet again at his watch.
“I’ll finish when I’m finished and not a moment before”, the convict replied, pouring himself another cup of tea, from the china pot which stood next to the plate still piled high with delicious eatables.
“Remind me Johny, whats the name of that place you ordered your meal from? I’ll be eatin there meself. It smells so damn good”, the prison officer said, trying not to drool at the scent oeminating from the convict’s breakfast.
“Can’t you guess?” the prisoner said, spearing yet another of the never ending supply of sausages with his fawk.
“I wouldn’t ‘ave asked if I knew now would I”, the prison officer said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“It’s the Café Cornucopia”, Johny said as he tucked into yet another egg.
