ONE LAST GOOD MEAL

“Isn’t that always the way?” the old pathologist had said, yanking the tray out with Elena’s body on it. “It’s love sickness. A man kills his wife then kills himself. A woman kills her man then does her nails.”

—“Blood Sport” fiction by Thomas Lynch

Thomas J. Kuzmak, wanted for the fatal stabbing of his ex-wife, poured maple syrup on his dollar-size pancakes, chewed and swallowed each forkful slowly, and said, “Yes please,” to the passing waitress when she asked if he’d like a refill on his coffee. At least that’s the way I envision it. He didn’t kill himself like so many others; his weapon of choice had been a knife. Having done time in an Ohio penitentiary, the only trigger he considered pulling was whether he should turn himself in or continue to flee. But not before having one last decent meal. County jails, he must have known, have lousy food, and the prison’s meals aren’t much better.

After that last bite, after that last bit of coffee, Kuzmak stepped up to the cash register to pay his bill and, as a matter of fact, confessed his sin. He was apprehended shortly afterward and is awaiting extradition to Michigan.

The waitress working the register, a woman by the name of Sandy, told the Detroit Free Press that he had the Kings Country Breakfast—pancakes, eggs, home fries, ham and wheat toast—a $10 special at the Kings Family Restaurant in Claysville, Pennsylvania.

There’s always a slight possibility that I’ll see Kuzmak at my facility. I say, “slight,” because there are so many more just like him, living, breathing, taking up bed space. They only view the world as it revolves around themselves, and I, along with my coworkers, am considered their newest enemy. Its unfortunate Kuzmak’s ex-wife never had the opportunity to paint her nails, even if for one last time.