As I stand before the firing squad, smoking my last cigarette, I look back over the events that led up to this fateful, sunny afternoon in a country far from my own, and this fucking heat; are you kidding me with this shit? It’s like a sauna, but a sauna is a dry heat and it’s humid as hell, so I mean the other kind…a steam bath…or is that what a Turkish bath is? This cigarette is stale; I don’t smoke, anyway, never have. Nope, I’m kind of a health nut, but I don’t know what the hell else you're supposed to do while you’re standing in front of a firing squad so I took a cigarette, and now I wish that I wouldn’t have, except I thought that if I didn’t they would just shoot me sooner.
Why are you guys cocking your guns? I just lit this thing. The very least that you could do is let me finish. Do I have to remind you how badly you screwed up my last meal? Is it really asking too much to have a bit of fresh tuna in the Niçoise salad? I don’t mind some canned tuna but there should be a little freshly grilled tuna as well. And what’s with the no wine policy as far as last meals go? What are we? Are we animals? I asked for a glass of Chateau Neuf du Pape to go with my boeuf bourguignon and you give me grape juice and Salisbury steak. Just shoot me now.
Ouch. Which one of you shot me in the foot? I was speaking figuratively out of frustration over my botched last meal when I said to shoot me. Now I have to stand here and bleed through my last cigarette. Can I switch this for a menthol? Ouch! Very clever shooting me in the other foot—a real stroke of genius. I’m glad you guys have such a great sense of humor. This was supposed to be my last few minutes on this earth wherein I look back over the course of my life in blissful reflection and now that prospect is pretty much out the window because I got fucking holes in both of my feet. You guys are complete idiots.
How badly do you have to fuck up in the army before they demote you to firing squad detail? That has to be about five steps lower than cleaning latrines. Is that it? Please don’t tell me that you guys fucked up latrine detail? Your folks must be so proud of you. I hope to god that there is no afterlife because I don’t want the last thing that I remember from this life to be six morons pointing rifles at me. This is the thanks I get for surviving two years of torture and sitting in a dank cell? As if I need another reason to be an atheist.
I need a light. No, rules are rules. I get a last smoke and I dropped this one and it fell in my blood and went out so give me a light or I’m going to write a very sternly-worded letter to your superiors. ‘Your superiors.’ What a laugh that is, huh? Like there is anything in the plant or animal kingdom that isn’t superior to you six invertebrates.
Ouch! Great, now I have to hold my last cigarette with my other hand. I don’t think that I can smoke left handed. You know what? Fuck you guys. Just go ahead and get it over with. Fire away, retards.
Ouch. You're fucking kidding me, right? How many of you guys missed? Besides the shots I already took in the feet and hand, I only have one more hole in my stomach. This could be the most incompetent execution in the entire history of capital punishment. Well don’t just stand there. Somebody finish me off, for Christ sakes. What? You don’t have any more bullets? I’d say, “Shoot me,” but I think I’ve had enough irony for one fucking day. Just do me a favor and get out of my sight.
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