Monday, April 11, 2011

Night-time Stories pt. 1: Cigarettes

The unfiltered cigarette I just rolled smokes like shit. 
It burns unevenly at best, and the tobacco always goes into my mouth, down my throat and sometimes, on special occasions, into my lungs.

A girl comes into my work and asks to use the phone, the conversation is unintelligible but that's probably because she's speaking Iñupiaq and is sobbing loudly next to my register. I ask her whats wrong and she tells me her cousin's husband kicked her out of the house because he caught her fucking his wife and it's 3am and her boyfriend won't let her back into his apartment.

Sometimes I figure I'll buy a pack of camels but I realize brand cigarettes will kill you just as fast but they're boring: burning uniformly, tasting uniformly. There's no craft or art to smoking a camel. And even though self-rolled smokes are nasty and ugly, they're cheap, never dull and they have a certain sleazy charm to them.

Big Mike

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