Earth Is Addicted To Nicotine

[izeveryboyin]

**Give me a moment, ladies and gentlemen, to discuss discussion. I was talking with my mother last night about the nasty little habit of chain-smoking, or, smoking in general. We were watching a show set back in the 70's where this group of people were smoking, and she said to me "I'm so glad they stopped letting people do that stuff indoors. That cloud of nervous smoke made me sick at work". Of course, I couldn't agree with her, because I was a part of that nervous smoke, although now, it was more of a cult of working-class fucks who had to stand huddled outside against Chicago cold trying to suck a few puffs out of one of our treasured sin sticks. And in light of that, all I could think of to say to her was "The earth is addicted to nicotine." Immediately, it made me think of a day a few years back where I actually believed that was true. I rushed off to my room and huddled over my desk and began typing furiously, thus, this very short piece was born.


Used to smoke Paris Opals, back when they were still affordable, back when I was too young to really know what addiction was. Got smart and threw away the empty box, didn't go back for more. Just waited, you know. Besides, they were too damned hard to find anyway, but as I walked, I began to hear the concrete choking. I could-- I could hear it talking, whispering things, muttering. Or maybe it was just an echo of a lifetime of high heels and Kenneth Cole shoes, and the swish-swish of trench coats, the rush of soles off to 9AM meetings. Sneakers of poor college kids like myself who were late for class ten minutes ago, stopping off for coffee, and a chance to switch CDs in the player. But whatever, it fucking, it was saying things, I heard it.
So at home, my niece was crying cuz I didn't bring the cupcakes home from work and also because Quinn* would be leaving soon and we'd be all alone there. Because we'd be all alone. And then later on that night, my boss called and told me "We're going broke, so last hired, first fired", that was me. And of course this was long ago, but even so I rushed around the house searching for something to burn, something to smoke. It was clean. Quinn was never much for cigarettes and supposedly, I'd quit, off and on again, on and off until that day. And back then, there I was, 17 with this kid, and fuck if I didn't need a smoke. So I threw some shoes on the little one's feet, I shoved her into a jacket and we walked off down the road.
Around the corner from the house, there was a shitty little joint where I picked up the Sun-Times from in the morning, on the way to drop the little one off at the expensive daycare. Anyway, it's run by this short little man in a funny little hat who used to hit on me right up until the day that I moved and on that day, upon arrival, he muttered something like "There's a booth in the back where we can make another one of those". He's pointing to the little one as she clings to me. I scoffed, and briefly thought of flipping him off but reconsidered in the sight of good sportsmanship.
I was broke and all the cigs had ridiculous pricetags that I really couldn't afford, and while I was trying to find something, anything, I heard the concrete cough again. And there might have been a lingering scent of rain from the day before, who gives a fuck? That's when I saw the Pall Malls, somewhere around 3 bucks + some change back then. "Gimme those" I pointed. He tossed the pack on the counter as I dug in my pockets for the five dollar bill I'd stowed away. He shook his head. "Free" he smiled.
I grabbed the pack and ripped it open and popped one into my mouth-- "Thanks". I lit up and took a puff, the first one in about two months and it felt good. Damned good. (Sigh of relief from live studio audience). I blew out the smoke and smiled into the air. Clouds separated. No more insane conversations between the ground and itself. The sun beamed. "Free", the Earth said. The little one tugged at my leg. I tightened her jacket and pulled the hood that had slipped for the millioneth time back onto her head. We smiled, I puffed, clouds moved, you know, the end.

*Quinn was my best friend and roomate at the time who had gone for a week-long trip to New York. She helped me raise my neice and babysat when I didn't have the time.