I asked for Hemlock

I asked for Hemlock.

Didn’t happen. Wouldn’t want me to be kill myself tonight if they’re going to kill me tomorrow, right? I keep obsessively checking the bread for mold. I’m feasting on a little pot of cheese. If I can’t be one Greek philosopher, I’ll be another, damn it. Who said that thing about “death and taxes”? I read a book in elementary school about kids at the Boston Tea Party. A couple of the sailors went into a bar to get a “tot of grog”. A buddy and I really latched on to that phrase. I never really knew what “pot of cheese” meant. Death comes for us all. I’m sitting in a cell, dipping bread in a fondue pot. I’ll be executed tomorrow. Wasn’t Saint Vitus Dance caused by moldy bread? Didn’t it make the nuns at Loudun monastery believe they were having great sex? The first time I smoked pot, I didn’t get high. Someone will die in a car accident tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll both be dead. Great care has been taken to make sure I can’t burn myself with the hot cheese. Wouldn’t want me to be injured tonight if they’re going to kill me tomorrow, right? Since the obscenely rich took over the tax code, taxes are no longer certain. How about a tot of grog with my pot of cheese? Won’t happen. Wouldn’t want me to be happy tonight if they’re going to kill me tomorrow, right? When news reached him of his son’s death, Anaxagoras is reported to have said “I knew my son was mortal”, or maybe, “Did I ever say my son was not mortal?”. I’ve read both. I wish I’d had social skills in high school. I’ve been preparing myself for death for a long time; my own and others. Ataraxia: free of perturbation. From the moment you’re born, you are moving towards death. It’s a foregone conclusion. The second time I smoked pot, I got high. It was the most marvelous thing that had happened to me up to that point in my life. You can’t usually predict the day, but you know death is coming. I know the day and time. My father’s been dead a long time. I don’t know how he would have responded to news of my death. The Warden probably had the bread checked carefully. Wouldn’t want me to get sick tonight if they’re going to kill me tomorrow, right? The last time I smoked pot, I got paranoid and catatonic. I wish I hadn’t been so depressed in high school

It’s unfortunate that I’ll be dead tomorrow.

It’s even more unfortunate that this pot of cheese is dead now