Here is another one of my short stories.
One of my older works.
The prisoner sat in his cell, slowly eating his last meal: strawberries. After all, what did hives matter, now?
As he finished the last sweet, ripe, rose-red berry, his attorney and the warden approached.
“I have some good news,” said the lawyer. “Your sentence has been commuted.”
Never was a man so glad to itch.