Cigarettes

1. The first one is the best. The second one isn’t bad either. But to tell you the truth, they go down hill from there. Let me explain:

The first one is a revelation., think of it as an early morning prayer. Don’t bother with the monotony of any other early morning rituals; grab a pack, a book of matches, a cup of coffee and go.

Strike. Flame. Puff. Sip.

Eyes still thick with the golden remnants of sleep. Limbs weary from their unconscious travels. Breathe in and out, and you’re on the path to enlightenment.

The second inhalation will make things clearer, the third will bring total clarity. Now you can think and hum along to the warm static thoughts that enter your mind. Now you can consider with a renewed sense of spiritual optimism whether or not you should: Kiss your wife goodbye or leave her curled up on the corner of the bed, blanketless and alone. Revise chapter 13 of your novel, or continue to let it rot under the weight of your hard drive. Take back that golden retriever puppy that you got your son for Christmas, or continue to let it wreck your home, defecating on carpets and pissing on important papers. Weighty questions, but with each meditative breath comes an ephemeral sense of resolution. Each ring of smoke is a divine plea for guidance, and each inhalation brings you one breath closer to the comfort of denouement.

The next eight will be a disappointment. They will not bring the same lucidity of thought, only leave you frantic, and begging on your hands and knees for that seraphic feeling of direction. Like any religious meditation, it is best to practice this one in moderation.

2. Brands are incidental, but the question of company and beverage are essential. I prefer to enjoy mine in solidarity--in the early morning or at night, with a glass of coffee or a teacup of whiskey. Others prefer to relish theirs in the company of others, drunk on vodka, scotch, brandy, beer, or maybe even infatuation. They can be had under street lamps, in alleyways, walking to your car, in your car, in a business meeting, outside a club, in bed, after a quarrel, but always before fight. Remember, religion can be practiced anywhere, and should be.

3. There are warnings, though. On walls, doors, restaurants, airplanes, taxis, hospitals, public restrooms, on the packaging itself. And I should probably warn you too: this religion you’ve devoted yourself to will probably kill you.

It won’t be a pretty death either, if it does. There will be white handkerchiefs dotted with blood and phlegm. There will be your wife in the chair beside you, defeated (didn’t she always tell you to convert?). There will not be your son. He hates you, and everything you represent. He still misses that golden retriever puppy, after all these years. Your grandchildren won’t be there either. They will spend their lives glaring at other members of your religion, and writing papers on how their grandfather destroyed his family with each thoughtful puff that he took.

But there are disadvantages to any religion, aren’t there? And who wouldn’t agree, it’s always a ‘pleasure to burn’?