Perfickle

Sometimes, you just gotta eat the worm.

Last night, after two days meditating on my Smokey McSmoker post, I broke down and bought a pack of smokes.

But not just any smokes.

No, not that kind of smoke. The other kind. No, not that one either.

Cloves.

I bought a pack of clove cigarettes and sat there and smoked and licked my lips and remembered my first CLOVE cigarette, which I enjoyed with several classmates on a trip to see "A Christmas Carol" in Providence (I think. Maybe Hartford ?) I believe it was Monique who introduced me to these fabulous little treasures. And we sat there in a coffee shop, smoking and talking and we probably didn't even leave a tip but the memory? Priceless.

And then, cruising down the highway all grown up and 20 years later, after maybe 4 or five leisurely puffs, I got dizzy and felt like I was going to throw up. So I rolled down the window and drank more coffee, and when I arrived at my destination I ate a taco (Thanks Trouble - yummy !) and ate some fruit out of the bottom of the sangria the Bethness had prepared, and then the Superstar showed up and before you know it we were back outside under the stars and almost full moon, reaching for another clove cigarette.

I'm done now. No really.
Except that the fucking clove cigarettes cost me $9 and Holy Hell I'm gonna have to get that money back one way or the other. I think I'm gonna be selling clove cigarettes to the Not-As-Young-As-We-Used-To-Be nostalgia crowd for the next week.

I'm a hustler, what can I say.