When he saw Jesus he cried out and fell at his feet, shouting at the top of his voice, What do you want with me Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don't torture me?
I'm afraid of everyone who opens that door now. Death Row does that to you. You never know if tomorrow morning will be your last, whether you will be pulled roughly from your sleep and dressed in your best clothes, moved to the cell at the end of the corridor and asked what you would like for your last meal. Even the prison chaplain makes me sweat, if he knocks on the door and asks to see you that is a sign, so prison mythology goes, that in the next few days your number is up, it's your turn for the chop.
So when he came, I didn't exactly say I was pleased to see him. He asked how I was feeling, whether I was afraid of the electric chair. "Bugger the electric chair," I told him, "All I'm really afraid of is meeting God."
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