Smoking
by Memory's Grace

There is no feeling as lovely as the hot scorch as smoke enters your lungs. You
finally realize what breathing is, and you know the actions of your body in
its being. And you breathe in. You breathe it all in.

I don't live in the city. Not anymore. The noise was getting to me, and the
people were....well, they were people. I don't really remember them.

I do remember her, though.

Maybe I do.

I don't know what I remember about her. I think it's a bad thing when all you
remember about a person is the actions that you took with them.;'

That is a foolishness and failing of women.

``So, how were things?''

``Fine.''

``What happened?''

And it doesn't matter anymore, Tynn. I don't care what happened, even if it was
5 minutes ago. I don't care about the fact that I saw Alice giving Bob a
blowjob in the theater, while Carol minded her own business beside them. It
doesn't matter.

``Not much.''

``What's wrong?''

Nothing, I'm just blowing you off.


You see, I love my rats. I've had them for years now, and they're so kind and
gentle. One of the best things about rats, as you can ask any rat lover, is
their paws: they're so delicate with them. they almost act like humans with
them. This is how I feel about people.

I think if I try real hard, one day I can be human.

So I took up smoking. I didn't have a hobby. Most people build model trains or
fuck their sister. I smoke. It's a victimless hobby.

I got a zippo so I could be cool like the other smokers, only to learn that my
opinions of other smokers had been formed by watching Humphrey Bogart and
jerking off to Lauren Bacall. It's a victimless hobby.

So I got a cigarette case. The best thing about a cigarette case these days is
that no one knows what the hell it is, and it's always a mystery (like
Christmas) when you produce a cigarette from one. I'm a modern day magician:
with just a puff of smoke I can make a cigarette disappear.

Won't mother be impressed.

``Oh, God, I can't stand him.''

``Why's that?''

Now we're talking over instant messenger. A true waste of time if ever there
was one. Pointless completely: most of human interaction is based on the lies
of body language, and I don't think all that much of human interaction to begin
with.

``He's so hairy.''

Except for sex, mind you. Sex is a wonderful human interaction, mostly because
it's so funny. That queer look people get on their faces, I assure you, is
beyond value. Especially virgins. They're great.

``Ahh, an excellent thing to base a relationship decision off of. I hope that
our interactions are based off of the same sublime interpretations of glory and
the everlasting ineffable something that creams your panties for you.''

``Well, it's true.''

``Sure.'''

Instant messenger was designed for short little phrases like this one. Short,
sweet, non-committal, and totally unacceptable in person. Kinda like a
politician.

``I'm trying to figure out how to tell him I'm not interested in him.''

The funny thing about this is not that she's telling me about it, it's that in
another 2 months she'll be dating him as well as me, and after that, I will
realize that she has never been dating me.

But I can't say I hate the guy. After all, he smokes, and, as I've mentioned
before, I respect smoking. The fact that he has burning embers a few inches
away from his mouth says a lot that makes me comfortable about the fact that
he's boffing the girl of my dreams. The girl who claimed to never feel anything
sexual, but nonetheless liked me a lot. Somehow the image of her ass pumping
under him gives me a nice warm feeling in my lungs, near where, I'm told, my
heart is supposed to be. It's an excellent feeling.

``Yeah, they're living together now.''

And here I'm going to defer my cofeehaus professionally-bitter style to an
expert: her best friend. The girl whom I liked first, and through whom I met
Tynn. If this sounds like high school, rest assured, it's only half-educated
tripe that's designed to sound dejected from a person who's happy with life and
is just faking it.

If that makes you feel better, you can even believe it. Yeah, continuing.

``I heard they broke a chair. I never see them anymore, they always spend so
much time together.''

I think a lot about fucking her best friend. ``her'' in this case referring to
Tynn's best friend. Well, both of them, really. But in this case, I'm talking
about Tynn's best friend. She has these great hips and a great ass, not to
mention she's stacked. It's things like these that I think about privately, as
it wouldn't do to disturb my image of dedicated and interested friend. It's not
that I'm a pig, not at all. A pig doesn't think about such things as how
delicious it feels to ram your dick into the best friend of the girl you can
never get, all the while struggling not to say the name, her name, the name
you're thinking. Yeah, the best part of that is that acid feeling you get just
below your shoulder blades that seems to eat away at something. Stealing her
panties and bra afterwords to keep in your dresser is a bit much, I'm told, but
they're nice to pull out and reminisce over.

``No....''

You see, if I just say something that reflects disbelief, then everything will
be right with the world. I fall over in sorrow into her lap, my hands going to
her hips and my face nuzzling into her stomach, feeling her breasts brush
against me.

And that's another thing about smoke: it's an activity you can do to busy
your hands and mind. It's like sewing, but more creative and less drudgework.

So, I've started smoking again. I've switched over from cigarettes, though,
they're unhealthy. Now I smoke carbon monoxide. Much better. That burning
sensation is magnified a whole bunch more, and you really feel like you're
being torn apart. You sit there and contemplate just falling back and giving in
to sleep, and then weakness sets in. Panic, the fear of not living anymore.
You panic and you become a coward, and you turn off the car. It's delicious.

Then sometimes you just finish the story. And you exhale.

And all is right with the world.


---
Pursuant to the felliatic principle, feedback is appreciated and solicited
at slipstream_sunrise@hotmail.com
