My First Smoke, Pt. 1
I have three 'first cigarette' stories, each of which has ended in a peculiar or obvious way. This is the first.

All my life my father has been a smoker, quite a heavy one in fact, and woe betide anybody who gets in his way when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while.

As a child of about 5 years old, after having my granddad threaten to "kill dat feckin' Roland Rat!" with his shotgun and upsetting me (I had a Roland Rat toy that I took EVERYWHERE), I remember asking my father why he smoked.

"It relaxes me." was his response.

Being that I just had my favourite childhood toy threatened with a brutal murder, I felt that i should be relaxed too.

"Can I try?" asks my younger self.

"Sure." My father responds, handing down to me his cancer stick.

Not quite knowing what to do, I sucked on the end of the cigarette (The filter end; I was inexperienced, but not stupid), and thought I just had to breathe in.

The line from "Drowse" by Queen on the "A Day at the Races" came into my head:

"Thinkin' it right. Doin' it Wrong."

*COUGH*

*SPLUTTER*

*HACK*

*BELM*

*DRY HEAVE*

*VOMIT*

Taught me a lesson I guess, as was my father's aim. Curiosity can be a cruel mistress. I did chuckle though a few years back when reading the Calvin and Hobbes' strip where Calvin's mother lets him try cigarettes, cumulating in a "Trusting your parents can be hazardous to your health". Never seen a comic mirror my own life experience before!

Actually, I tell a lie. The Garfield (yes, I know it's shit) strip on the day I was born has the word "Bonk" in it several times, So I guess that's a good reflection of how I like things.


Three inches, with a glowing red tip.
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:42, Reply)