Chapter 1: An Unforgettable Task

One day, while Tony and I were busy in the kitchen, we received a request to prepare a last meal for an inmate scheduled for execution the next day. We reviewed the order and compiled a list of ingredients for the chef to procure from outside.

This was Tony's inaugural experience with such a solemn task. I quickly explained the process and the timeline we needed to follow. It was evident that he was feeling uneasy about it, a sentiment I could relate to from my first encounter. However, I was also reminded of the gravity of his situation—his own status on death row meant that I could be preparing his last meal someday. That realization hit me hard, stirring feelings of compassion within me. I felt a strong urge to offer him some comfort.

As was often the case, I found myself at a loss for the right words. I didn't want to dwell on his impending fate, so I shifted the conversation towards my culinary approach. I expressed how much care and attention I devoted to my cooking, mentioning that I always say a brief prayer over the food before it leaves the kitchen. I explained that I don't know the inmate personally or their backstory, so I focus on crafting dishes I would enjoy myself.

Tony listened intently but remained silent, deep in thought. The rest of the day unfolded as usual, and we reviewed our prep list with the chef before heading back to our cells.

Later that night, I turned to my cellmate, Carlos, hoping his insights could ease my troubled mind.

"How often do people get released from death row?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Sometimes individuals get stays of execution, right?"

"Yeah, occasionally. But it's rare."

I pondered over Tony’s situation, feeling the injustice that he was facing. He hadn't committed any crime, yet he was facing the ultimate penalty for someone else's actions. Meanwhile, the real perpetrator roamed free.

Sleep eluded me that night, but I resolved to maintain a facade of normalcy the next day for Tony's sake.

When we returned to the kitchen, all the necessary ingredients were prepared. After completing lunch for the general population, we turned our attention to the last meal. We split the cooking duties: I handled the frying—catfish, chicken, and onion rings—while Tony prepared coleslaw, pork and beans, and corn on the cob. The inmate had requested a pecan pie, which the chef purchased from a store.

As I cooked the fish, Tony shared his expertise, having grown up enjoying catfish dishes. The day progressed without a hitch; we were too engrossed in our tasks to dwell on the significance of the meal we were preparing.

Once everything was plated, I demonstrated how to wrap it up. We first encased each plate in plastic and then covered the trays with paper. When all was ready, we bowed our heads for a brief prayer. Though I don’t usually pray before meals, this felt like an appropriate moment.

A few minutes before 4 PM, a guard entered to check the food. After verifying against the list, he transferred the trays to a cart and exited the kitchen. The guards typically maintained a professional distance, treating us respectfully but without fostering camaraderie.

After his departure, we began cleaning up. Moments later, the guard returned with the cart, still covered.

"Is everything alright?" I inquired.

"He opted out; he just wants a cigarette," the guard replied before leaving without further comment.

Tony and I exchanged uncertain glances. What should we do now? We uncovered the food, which was still hot and looked appetizing—better than anything else we had eaten in a while.

"Want to have some?" I asked.

"Can we do that?" he replied.

I shrugged, a smile forming on my face. "I won’t tell if you don’t."

We peeled back the coverings and began enjoying the meal. As we ate, Tony shared stories from his youth—reminiscing about catching catfish and his mother's legendary cornbread recipes.

While we savored the food, we discussed our lives outside, and I mostly listened as Tony recounted his tales.

"One time, my cousin and I were fishing at the creek. It was a scorching day, and we weren't catching anything. We decided to head into town for some drinks. While there, my cousin spotted Cheetos on the shelf. We both loved them but didn’t have enough cash, so he dared me to steal a bag."

I chewed on the fried chicken, captivated by his storytelling.

"I waited for the store owner to look away and snatched them, but as I was bolting out, I collided with this big guy walking in. I bounced right off him like a basketball!"

I chuckled at the image of him sprawling on the floor, clutching his stolen snack.

"The big guy stared down at me, and the store owner turned to see what had happened. I panicked and just ran out with the bag, racing down the street. My cousin caught up with me, and we were in stitches. When we returned to the creek to devour the Cheetos, they were all crushed but still delicious."

We continued sharing stories until our plates were empty. In that moment, I felt a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of prison life, a much-needed reprieve from our grim reality.

After finishing our meal and tidying up, we returned to our cells. That night, I fell asleep with a heart full of warmth, feeling surprisingly grateful for the friendship I had forged in such an unlikely place.

Thanks for reading, here are the other parts of the story.

The Night My Friend Got Me Arrested

I couldn’t believe he sold me out, but he had his reasons

The Day Cooking Took On A Whole New Meaning For Me

I had done it reluctantly for years, but now I had a purpose

Breaking The Silence And Getting To The Truth

How one conversation started a friendship and changed my perspective

It Could Always Be Worse

How one conversation changed my view on life and made me glad I had one

The Importance Of Doing Your Job Right

Some jobs are more serious than others, some are deadly

Chapter 2: Reflections on a Diner Experience

As our time in the kitchen came to an end, I found myself reminiscing about life outside these walls.

In the heart of New York, John Mulaney shares a hilarious account of a diner experience that resonates with the absurdity of life behind bars. His comedic take on ordinary situations allows us to momentarily escape our reality.

In another segment, John Mulaney delivers a side-splitting performance playing “What's New Pussycat?” 21 times on a diner jukebox, providing a light-hearted reminder of the joy that can be found even in the simplest of moments.