pardon my lobster…

>Unanswered questions may just be the bane of my existence. (That and maybe ants, clutter and all liars. And… well, let’s not start that list!)

Recently, my mind has been contemplating the deeper issues in life. I’ve been placing myself in other people’s shoes(at least in my mind, don’t blame me if you can’t find your Addidas), trying to gain more empathy for those around me.

Mostly, this just means I let my imagination run free for a couple of moments, and come back to reality with more issues than understanding.

Sometimes it brings up questions. Large questions, random questions, minute non-sensical questions… Primarily the latter. And even with all my wits about me, no matter how few they are, I cannot always come up with a resolution.

Here’s a recent dilemma, and feel free to leave input in my comment section-

Suppose you really screwed up in life, did something ridiculous that is, by law, unpardonable. You find yourself on death row. Wasting away, day by day. Knowing eventually, your number will be up and it will be your turn in the chair. You know you’re guilty, so you’re not even holding out hope to be pardoned. You don’t care anymore… finally, it’s your turn. But before that fateful moment, as in all those glorified Hollywood flicks, you get to have your last meal. It’s bittersweet, as you’ve only eaten gruel for years waiting for this moment, but this marks the end. And not to be cliche, but you request to have lobster for this crowning moment. Not because you like it, but because it’s costly, because you’ve never had it. Maybe because it is symbolic of a better life you’re saying goodbye to the opportunity of ever having. Your day is here. Your meal is here. You take a bite. Buttery, flavorful… You take another bite… soothing…until you start coughing. And coughing. And choking. Your airway constricts. It would figure you’d be allergic to shellfish, but not find out until it almost doesn’t matter.

So therein lies the question; if you are hours away from your scheduled departure, will they make an effort/are they obligated to save you from this unintentional poisoning?

If they don’t help, they’d be setting themselves up for legal problems right? But if they do help, isn’t it a bit… odd?

You say this whole question and scenario is odd? I know. Your point is?

One thought on “pardon my lobster…

  1. >Now I really wonder what you were thinking about (when you weren't using your extensive language vault at the age of two or three. (*head shaking*) You are never simple or boring!~ Mom

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