I threw some cigar down 12 stories and watched the sparks fly as it hit. It reminded me of the time I was in the Ukraine, and with friends, we threw some fire crackers out the window, and watched them explode by the feet of people, hahah!
I questioned my habit of smoking, and how it was affecting my senses negatively, and so decided to quit. Of course, as I arrived home, the giant stuffed cigar that I keep in the corner of the kitchen was less than pleased. His arms were crossed and there was a big frown on his face.
"What's with the frowny face, old man?" I asked.
"You've thrown a piece of me out!" He replied with smoke coming from his mouth. He accentuated his anger by puffing smoke out of his ears.
"Well, I've been thinking..." I started, but didn't manage to finish, because Giant Cigar interrupted.
"I'll give you something to think about, you ungrateful bastard," and he got up.
Oh no! I cried, in my mind. An event I've never witnessed before! Fuck this. So I ran into my room and locked the door behind me.
I'd be lying if I told you there wasn't any pounding. When your life force is tobacco, when you are stuffed full to the brim of tobacco, a door is the perfect instrument for your fury. Yes, the door jiggled and slammed, and rattled and blammed. I feared for my life. Since I live on the second story, and since there are bushes below my window, exiting the apartment only resulted in a few cuts and bruises, and nearly a broken ankle. It was at times like those that I am thankful I take the time to do ankle exercises.
I reported the incident to the police, after getting some coffee, but they only rolled their eyes. When they forced their way into the apartment all they found were some pillow cases and a mound of cotton balls. Who knew what Giant Cigar was planning. Probably planning to smoke me. A bit of revenge, eh, big guy. Well, I would have none of it. So I made some flyers and taped them to street lights, and around the halls. I warned my neighbors of the impending doom and loaded up on fire extinguishers. I saw one of my neighbors light his cigarette with one of my flyers; to the amusement of some of his friends, but was too hurt to appreciate the irony. I bought a megaphone and took to the streets, but I could tell that tobacconists everywhere were plotting against me.
So I ran, ran like a donkey would if he had been bitten by some horrible insect. I started baying, like a donkey might, and imagined myself with giant dirty teeth stained from all manner of excess. Then I imagined a donkey having tea very calmly with some British folk from the emporium. Well, that vision relaxed me a bit, and made me smile, so I visited said emporium for some tea.
I reported the incident to the police, after getting some coffee, but they only rolled their eyes. When they forced their way into the apartment all they found were some pillow cases and a mound of cotton balls. Who knew what Giant Cigar was planning. Probably planning to smoke me. A bit of revenge, eh, big guy. Well, I would have none of it. So I made some flyers and taped them to street lights, and around the halls. I warned my neighbors of the impending doom and loaded up on fire extinguishers. I saw one of my neighbors light his cigarette with one of my flyers; to the amusement of some of his friends, but was too hurt to appreciate the irony. I bought a megaphone and took to the streets, but I could tell that tobacconists everywhere were plotting against me.
So I ran, ran like a donkey would if he had been bitten by some horrible insect. I started baying, like a donkey might, and imagined myself with giant dirty teeth stained from all manner of excess. Then I imagined a donkey having tea very calmly with some British folk from the emporium. Well, that vision relaxed me a bit, and made me smile, so I visited said emporium for some tea.
I entered with trepidation, much like a donkey might if his life was on the line, and he was trying his best to act British. But as we all know, donkey's aren't even human, let alone British, so poor donkey was doomed from the get go. I sat down at the table by the wall furthest away from the door, as the vision dictated. There sat a big jolly gentleman with a top hat on, with two older woman sitting next to him, one lady being more frail than the other. I didn't ask to sit, I just did, and was not treated with smiles, gin, cards, candy, or cigarettes, but rather with gasps and looks of horror. It was then I realized there was a scorpion on my shoulder.
"Get it off!"cried the big jolly man, now not jolly at all.
"Not to worry, just my pet scorpion," I lied. The big jolly man flicked it off with his hand with a slapping motion. The scorpion was quickly smashed with feet.
"Are you quite alright?" He asked, and put on his monocle, and scrutinized me.
"Well, no. Not really. I'm dying for a crumpet. Will you get me one? A crumpet? Just one?"
"Of course, of course. I'd love for you to feast on crumpet, nothing better to get the spirits up, except for spirits, heh hehheheheh."
I smiled, because it was true. Before I knew it a crumpet was placed before me. The older women were clutching at their purses, so I snarled at them a bit while the jolly man wasn't looking. To my horror, one of the older ladies snarled back, and with the snarl came the scent of death. I really wasn't in the right frame of mind to be snarling. I was their guest, so looked down, and silently ate my crumpet, hoping to see another day. Then I felt a fluttering at my pant leg, and it moved stealthily towards my crotch. I wore a look alarm, and saw the older woman lick her lips. Quickly I pulled my seat away, and against my better judgement threw the last bit of crumpet at her, which I would later regret, not for the throwing, but for the hunger that would follow. Instead of the piece of fluffy goodness landing on the Mrs.'s head and knocking her out, she caught it in her mouth and gnashed it making gnashing noises. The Jolly man acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and if I wasn't mistaken he was reaching for a cigar. I didn't stay around long enough to find out, but left, in an act of panic, with my chair shooting out from under me from force of leaving. Smoke, too, friends, appeared after my departure, not only from the jolly man, but also from my rubber soled shoes. Smoke that! I thought as I was leaving and took to running.
Running was great. The cool air blew in my hair, and the recent activities were leaving with every super charged spring. I ran and ran and ran and ran out of the city into the forest and followed the river. The river was on my side, since it was not conducive to fire. There I would stay, until the rains came and extinguished not only giant cigars, but the hopes and dreams of people everywhere.
3 comments:
So, I should keep smoking.
Or I'll turn into a braying jackass with a scorpion on my shoulder.
Got it.
(Seriously - enjoyed the story! Especially the donkey part.)
Sybil- Thanks! Donkeys are the most human of animals.
Man I love your writing! This was bizarre and hilarious.I'm so thankful that I've never smoked, so have never had to deal with nicotine withdrawal, and feeling as though I'm a donkey.
If you really are giving up smoking, I wish you the best of luck!
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