Twenty-five years.

Twenty five years. Twenty five years, and I never killed a single person until a few months ago. Now I'm on death row for multiple charges: manslaughter, murder, negligence.

After the first, I thought it was over. I thought nothing of the fact that the Sheriff warned me I would be sentenced to death if it happened two more times. An odd law, to be sure; I just never thought it would end up applying to me. After all, I had been conducting trains for a quarter of a century before I ever accidentally hit someone! I figured the odds were in my favor.

Alas! I was wrong. Here the Warden comes now to ask me what my last meal will be.

"Steak, mashed potatoes, and corn," I told him. And I ate it happily. It was the first time I felt happiness for a while, but the feeling was fleeting. Within the hour, I was marching down the hall toward the chair.

They're strapping me in, my skin retreats from the cold metal.

"Any last words?" inquired the Warden.

To my shame, I couldn't think of any.

My head shook.

The switch flipped.

Nothing.

Silence -- then I opened my eyes.

"What the Devil?" spake the Warden.

Murmurs echoed throughout the room as they unstrapped me. After a moment of discussion in the other room, the Warden approached me.

"Listen, we've made a decision. Since you're in here on a technicality, if this happens again, we'll let you go. After all, it's only fair. You never meant to kill those people, right?"

"Right," I assured him, still in shock.

The next day, I was contacted around supper time. They wanted to know what my next meal would be.

"Steak, mashed potatoes, and corn."

The Warden seemed suspicious of this. The same meal? Maybe that's why I hadn't died, he assumed. Something in the food. He took the precaution of preparing the whole meal himself, and personally delivered it to my cell.

My plate is clean, now I must once more march down the hall.

Seated, strapped, switched...

Nothing.

"I'll be damned!" the Warden exclaimed.
He paced around the room as they removed my restraints.

"Well, a deal's a deal. I'm willing to let you go, but on one condition: How did you do it? Tell me." The Warden was standing before me now.

I thought for a moment before speaking: "I don't know, Warden. I guess I'm just not a very good conductor."