I’d eat the judge

I’d eat my prosecuting attorney, jokes on him.

Paradox: Request to eat the brain stem of the person who will deliver the killing blow / throw the switch / administer the injection / etc.

If you are then killed by their replacement, then you weren’t given what you asked for, contradicting rule 1. If you succeed, rule 2 has been contradicted.

But seriously. It’s hard to choose. There was this one pub I visited (with parent) as a child that made the most delicious, dare I say, succulent, miniature pasties. I think I’d like to gorge on those.

My mom’s cooking.

Anything with an overdose of any good drug. If I’m dying I’m dying with a bang.

The living face of Steven Miller.

Diet Pepsi and Mentos. Cabbage and baking soda.

I want my dead body to explode and spread foul smelling shit all over the place.

Jeff bezos roasted in a bronze bull with a pinch of lemon and some butter.

Nothing fancy- Corned beef hash, eggs over easy, with swiss cheese melted on top and a nice cup of black coffee.

Every piece of evidence against me, so I get to go to assylum for insanity (I don’t know anything about mental assylum I just stole a joke from Huggbees).

Often, restrictions require a prisoner to choose foods that are available within the prison system or that cost less than a preset limit. Prisoners are usually denied requests that include alcohol or tobacco products.

Two double cheeseburgers from MacDonald’s.

1 cubic meter of pure gold, sliced into bite sized cubes, completely enclosed in a nice icing, and not that fondant stuff.

Leftovers are to go to my family.

Chicken fried rice, lots of it.

A kilo of dried magic mushrooms and a fat bag of mdma. I’m going to be glowing with transcendental joy and tripping the light fantastic. Hopefully I’d get the chair, can you imagine how good electricity would feel in that state?