Thursday, May 03, 2012

YOUR MOTHER WOULD DISAPPROVE!

The day started with me brushing my teeth and going to bed. Shortly after midnight. I had been out late, you see. That happens sometimes.
But this day will end with an absolute orgy.
Intemperate behaviour, risks.

I hasten to add that I am a sane sober adult and consequently tend towards sensible courses of action and intelligent behaviour. But there are decisions I am allowed to make, and sometimes by gum, I’ll do what I want to.  Honestly, you need not worry. I think I know what I’m doing.
This evening I’ll be standing around with a bunch of other manly men, all of us waving the ceremonial object or tool that we have in common.

Yes, I know you think it sounds like a secret Masonic sex - death - bondage cult.
But it’s just a bunch of pipe smokers, socializing companionably.
Like the others, I shall smoke too much.

THE FLOCKING OF THE COOTS

Unwise choices will be made, that's for sure.
I have a tin of melon-flavoured tobacco in my backpack.
As well as several normal tobaccos, which are NOT aimed at the pervert demographic. The other people there will also be well-supplied with leaves. There may be several strong flakes present, as well as sharp and bitey ribbons, and numerous perfumed products that radiate sheer nelliness.
And probably one or two Latakia dumps.

All of these products need to be smoked. Either to test them out, or to prove! that you can take it like a man.
It is a sign of stupendous machismo to smoke five bowls of putrid floral crap in quick succession.
Nothing says outrageously butch testosterone overload like fruity clouds of perfume.
You can do it. You’ve got balls. And hair on your chest. Like Hemingway!

I HAVE A TIN OF MELON TOBACCO!

On the other hand, I’ve got nothing to prove, and I’m quite happy with myself. So I’ll just smoke two or three bowls of good tobacco, while strenuously talking someone else into overdoing the Hello Kitty blends.
All of the powers of persuasion I can muster will be brought into play.
Sarcasm. Irony. Cynicism. Poetry. Blandishments. Polite doubt.
I can be a really very convincing person, when I try.
There are buckets AND a toilet there.
So it’s okay. Trust me.

I will probably get home late.
Then brush my teeth.
And go to bed.


TOBACCO INDEX


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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

My mother was indeed enraged to hear that last night I had consorted with pipe smokers.

However, her rage was slightly mollified when I described how I had - after some internal struggle - sagely declined the melon tobacco persuasively offered by a singularly evil badger.

M.

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