A Final Act of Goodness

“We all have a purpose. We all have something good to give others. Even in our darkest hours.”

That's what the priest giving my last rites had to say. I snickered as this thought got stuck in my head. I bet that made the guards jump a bit, considering I let this humorous tidbit come to the surface while they were busy strapping me down and getting those tubes ready.

The Rev. was trying to put a good spin on the rotten life I led. I knew that. But, how can you not find humor in that?

I guess he thought I’d rethink my life while I wait here for the clock to strike twelve. Maybe he thought, as the time slips away, I will ask for repentance or something like that and save my sorry soul from hell. Yeah, let's see if that happens.

But, what do you know? After the humor has died, I’m starting to think real hard about what he said. Maybe he was on to something. Here I am, the baddest dude to ever walk this world, and some scrawny man in cloth is getting in my head. That Rev got me thinking, alright.

I wondered about my purpose. I did the crime all those fancy lawyers said I did, and I’ve done plenty more (and probably done more, if I didn’t get caught). That was my purpose in life…to be the boogeyman everyone feared. And soon, this boogeyman will be given his final curtain call for a group of news folk, victim’s family members and other gawkers. Now that's purpose for you folks!

But what good have I done? I can’t say very many people will agree I found something good to give others. Heck, now I think about it, what has anyone done good for me? I've had nothing but a lousy education, parents, jobs, and choices. Why am I wasting my time with this?

"Let's get on with this!" I yell after someone in room asks what my last words are. And seriously, I want them to be that so I can end this tug-o-war in my head.

But, those thoughts still stay, with a fierce stubbornness. Even my nastiness can't make it go away.

The clock strikes twelve. My attention turns to the glass around this chamber. On the other side are the chosen ones to watch me take my final breath. They came here for justice because in my own special way I ruined their lives.

I feel the juice flowing through into my veins. Soon it’ll take effect. Still, that doesn’t concern me. It's that notion: what good have I done? Or maybe what good will I do in my final seconds? Now that's heavy and I don't find much humor in that.

I’m glancing at the gathered masses of ruined lives. And now I realize what good I can give others.

I can…