Yee Haw, Siddhartha!
/On the night of March 10, 2003, the owner of Carter’s Auto Salvage, Danny Lee Carter, spiked his wife’s and two tot’s supper Coca-Colas with crushed-up Ambien tablets, then dragged their somnolent bodies from the double-wide, stuffed them into the trunk of an old wrecked Oldsmobile, pulled a lever and had it cubed. Danny Lee might have gotten away with the perfect crime had not a passerby on horseback just then heard their muffled terror silenced by the crunch of metal. A passerby on horseback? Just his luck–the junkyard was five miles outside Lusk city limits, and Lusk was seventy-five miles from the next nearest town.
The trial was quick, the verdict guilty, the punishment death by lethal injection.
Danny Lee, a lifelong atheist, searched for the spiritual while on Death Row hoping that part of him might live on after his execution. His first obvious choice of religion was Christianity but after flipping through the New Testament with its guilt-infested verses of sin and retribution, he quickly realized there was no way in hell of him ever getting into heaven. He took a stab at Judaism, but, ironically, couldn’t endorse a religion with a psychopathic god who asked Abraham to slice up his own two tots, Issac and Ismael. Islam? Not after them camel jockeys tried to destroy ‘Murica on 9/11 ... and where’s your tumbleweeds, Ahab??
Danny Lee finally settled on becoming a Buddist because he lived like a monk anyway, only behind bars, silent and segregated, and hell, it’d be kind of cool to probably be the only one in Wyoming. He shaved his head and practiced meditation-–'living in the now' was a breeze since his 'now' consisted of staring at the same gray cinder block walls 23 hours a day. The most difficult discipline he discovered of himself was embracing universal love for all because the Cowboy State had wayyy too many illegals, gays, snowflakes and libtards for that ideal to take holt.
On the night of September 15th, 2022, after all appeals were exhausted and with no pardon by the governor, DanOOOOOOOOOOOO, his new name and mantra, lay strapped to a gurney, calm and in inner peace. He was happy and relieved that he had chosen the enlightened path that he did because Buddists believe in reincarnation. As he was wheeled into the kill chamber, the doomed man contemplated just what form of life he might wish to take after the poison had done its job.
“Mmmmmmm,” he hummed in thought not as a mantra, as heart monitor pads were taped to his chest; his arms then swabbed in alcohol before two IVs were inserted into each–one to carry out the execution, the other reserved as a backup in the event the primary line failed.
“I think I'd like to return as a rainbow trout,” he whispered to himself as saline drips were started in both arms–standard medical procedure because it must be discerned that the IV lines are not blocked, thus preventing the drugs from reaching the condemned man’s bloodstream.
“Nuh, I’d probably just get hooked by a fly fisherman, deboned, grilled, eaten, pooped out. Besides, I'm not much of a swimmer being land-locked as we are in Siddhartha’s country, aka, Nirvana on Earth.”
That afternoon he had been informed that his execution would involve three separate injections: a series of drugs given in a set sequence, designed to first induce unconsciousness, followed by death through paralysis of his respiratory muscles, so he knew he only had about thirty more seconds of this life left to contemplate his next.
“A fast and fleet antelope might be fun to be,” he said excitedly, as the first IV drips of pentobarbital, an ultra-short-action barbiturate used at a high dose would soon render him unconscious.
“Nuh-uh ... I’d probably just get shot, gutted, and decapitated. End up mounted over some proud hunter’s fireplace mantel And run all gitty-up? Hell no! I’m a two-pack-a-day smoker.”
The second syringe containing pancuronium bromide, a muscle relaxant that causes complete, fast, and sustained paralysis of his skeletal muscles, including the diaphragm, that would eventually cause death by asphyxiation was then released.
“Next time I want a life of leisure and glamour unlike the one I’m about to give up,” he muttered groggily, death beginning to seep through his veins. “A jackrabbit, perhaps … a Monarch butterfly wouldn't be too bad if I didn't have to migrate to Mexico every winter and have to hang with all them rapists and drug dealers. With his final breath it struck him: “I … want to come … back as the … world’s …. most … pampered … pe
The third syringe of potassium chloride stopped his heart and thus caused his death by cardiac arrest. DanOOOOOOOOOOOO was dead.
Mrs. Helena Elizabeth Mastocino, a childless widow, lives alone in the penthouse apartment of a New York City skyscraper. Lonely and with money to burn, the heiress spent $34,000 on a teacup bichon frise, a one-of-a-kind pup bred especially for her. She named the spoiled tiny pooch Carter, after her deceased billionaire husband.
Carter had it all–-breakfasts of kibble lathered in hollandaise sauce, dinners of kobe beef served by his personal butler from a 24-karat gold plated food bowl, Fillico Jewelry Water from Japan priced at $1,390 per liter served from a dish of sterling silver. His collar and leash, purchased at Sniffany’s, studded with 110 finely-cut diamonds, emeralds and rubies, cost $110,000. The lucky dog was in the lap of luxury–and a rather large lap of luxury it was since his mistress's only vice was her love of food, which she indulged in freely and frequently.
On the night of March 10, 2023, Carter, swaddled in a five thousand dollar cashmere throw, was snuggling soundly on his wealthy benefactor's hefty thighs when she had a sudden pang for cheesecake. She laid him on the silk upholstered sofa, struggled to the kitchen for a slice or three, then flopped down on the five thousand dollar cashmere throw anxious to indulge her gluttony.
Buddhists also believe in karma.
By CraigE
From: United States