Sprkus

I quit smoking back in January. And I went months without smoking a single cigarette.

I caved and picked it up again over a few days at some point this year. Then quit again. And as it stand now, I cheat on occasion.

Like this last weekend when B.A. came to town. He used to smoke as well, so now he only buys cigarettes when he comes to Columbus to hang with me. Or when I go to Columbia City.

So I get to use him as an excuse to bum a few and he gets to use me as an excuse to have a few. It’s not a bad little system.

My buddy Nick smokes too. So when I met up with him in Cincy for Labor Day, I knew I’d be bumming from him eventually. Eventually, like after my second drink. Because I don’t want to be that toolbox that bums cigarettes all night, I purchased a pack ahead of time.

See how I talk myself into smoking still? OK, so I really haven’t quit at all, I just smoke on special occasions. Never mind that every weekend tends to be a special occasion.

I know it’s nasty. I know it’s not nearly as accepted socially as in the past when I started. And I know I don’t look like James Dean when I have one. This is all just for the record.

Tiffany’s mom Sue is cleaning out and organizing her house in preparation for an eventual move. She found a bunch of old stuff of Tiffany’s and had her come pick it up.

Old baby dolls, old photos, old clothes, old notes from girlfriends and douche bag exes. I have to call them douche bags. I don’t know them. I don’t know if they were douche bags, but I have to insult them in front of Tiffany cause it makes me look better.

I digress.

In a shoebox of corsages Tiffany had collected from high school, back in the day when she was little miss cheerleading captain, she found a pack of cigarettes she had stashed to keep them hidden from her mom. She guesses she was 18 at the time so this pack of cigarettes is about eight years old.

There were four left.

They didn’t have a hint of aroma, time had worn away the cigarettes’ fragrance completey. But they were well packed — somebody knew what they were doing back then.

This discovery was made on Wednesday and since I don’t smoke during the week whatsoever, or outside of those special occasions that Tiffany lets me get away with, I gotta say I was a little more excited than I should have been when she pulled them out of the box.

I felt like Kevin Costner’s character in “The Postman” during the beginning of the movie when he’s traveling through holocaust-ripped land and discovers an old cigarette machine in a long-abandoned gas station. Nobody produced cigarettes anymore so it was like he struck gold.

I had to try and smoke one. And did. It had all the dirty, smoky, coughy, negative attributes and none of the taste that make cigarettes bearable. It was still chock-full of nicotine, however.

I smoked a second one the following night. And it being Friday, I’m sure the pack won’t make it through the evening.