A train conductor carrying millions of dollars of raw materials across the United States falls asleep on the job. Missing a crucial interchange, he runs the trains of the tracks and destroys all the cargo, wrecks the train, and kills four people in the process.
After months of trials, lawsuits, and court dates, he receives a death row sentence.
Months pass and finally the week of his execution arises. With three days left to live, a Holding Officer comes to his cell and walks him through the process that will occur in the upcoming days.
Tonight you will receive 1 of your last 3 meals. You may ask for whatever food you like and we will accommodate to the best of our abilities. On the third day, before your last meal, the chaplain will come in to give you your final blessing if you desire. You will eat. Then I will come take you to the chair.
The Holding Officer leaves a notepad and pen for the man to write down his meals…
One the first day, he is brought a banana and a glass of water per his request. The office leaves a tray with the items at the foot of his cell, but gives the man a perplexed look before leaving.
The man eats the banana and drinks the water, but takes the peel and stores it under his mattress.
The second day comes and once again the office brings his order, this time with two bananas instead of one. Before leaving though, he stops to ask the man of his odd requests.
You can have any food your heart desires, and yet yesterday all you ask for was a banana, and today the same thing?? Would you not prefer a seasoned steak, or gourmet pizza? Or maybe a fancy desert like a crème brûlée??
The man thought for a moment before speaking. Without looking up from the tray of food, and barely above a murmur, spoke gently to the officer, If it concerns you that much to mention it, perhaps you could add an item to my order tomorrow
The officer’s ears perked up in anticipation of the request.
I’d like an ice cream cone added to my order tomorrow. With chocolate sprinkles on top, NOT multi-colored.
The officer’s look of intrigue disappeared off his face, but he acknowledged the mans’ request and said he would make it so.
The third day arrives. The man sitting cross-legged in the middle of the cell waits for the officer to arrive. In one corner of his cell sits an untouched cup of water from the previous day, under his mattress two banana peels rest, with the third lodged between his thighs.
Officer shows up. Sets down the tray, proud of himself for having found chocolate sprinkles despite the kitchen’s only confetti colored ones, and informs the man he’ll be back in half an hour to take him to his end.
For his last meal he eats the entire banana. Peel and all. He drinks the cup of water but not the one on his tray. Taking it from the corner of the room, he pours the entire cup into his throat with his held tilted back. In one swallow it’s gone.
Next, he takes the new cup of water. Individually, he sticks every single one of his fingers into the cup. With wet tips, he runs his hands through his hair for several minutes. Repeating this process until all the water in the cup is gone.
At last, he reaches his single scoop of ice cream. Chocolate sprinkles, just like he asked. A small smile crosses his face.
Then, with the grace and precision of a watch maker, he picks off every one. Every. Single. Sprinkle.
By the time all the sprinkles are removed, and stashed secretly into the banana peels under the mattress, his clock reads 2-minutes till showtime.
With his last remaining minutes he enjoys his ice cream.
The helmet is strapped.
The belts are tied tight.
The man’s moment of judgement has finally come.
The officer does the inspection himself, insuring everything is in order. A medic stands by ready to flip the switch. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of thousands of volts will be passing through the man’s body, ending his sinful life.
The officer places his right hand on the switch. His touch lighter for some reason than all the times in the past. He asks if the man has any last words.
But the man says nothing. Instead, he shakes his head from side to side, with eyebrows raised in a show of complacency. His thighs however, squeeze tight to the banana peel between his legs.
The Officer lets out a sigh, and begins his count.
3.
2.
1.
The switch is flipped. The lights flicker. And a loud buzz is heard.
But nothing happens.
Now in the state where they reside, if any attempt past two does not successfully end a prisoner’s life, he is returned to his cell and given a new term of life sentence over execution.
Full well knowing this is the case, the officer goes to check his connections. Every thing seems in order.
He returns to the switch
3.
2.
1.
The switch is flipped. The lights flicker. And a loud buzz is heard.
Still nothing.
Now a man in a suit has entered the room. He whispers something to the medic. The officer double and triple checks all the connections.
The man sits calmly. A content look rests upon his face.
The final attempt. Tensions high in the room. Everyone’s breath is held.
3.
2.
1.
The switch is flipped. The lights flicker. And a loud buzz is heard.
Nothing.
Perplexed. The officer run his hand through his hair. He looks at the man sitting in the death chair, unharmed. Now a giant smile radiates from ear to ear.
The officer shouts out the man
I DON’T UNDERSTAND! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!? HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD
The man smile fades, he raises one eyebrow, shrugs and mutters–
I don’t know. I guess I’m a bad conductor.
