THAT VICTORIOUS MORNING SMELL
Empty apartment. No other person.
I hear no breathing under the bed.
Probably the stuffed animals. Their cotton-filled brains disapprove. Glass eyes glare in judgment.
No, I'm not Douglas MacArthur. But that IS a corncob.
Burley mixtures are excellent in cobs.
First smoke of the day.
No. 107 - HAUNTED BOOKSHOP
Cornell and Diehl, Inc.
Burleys, with a little red Virginia, touch of Perique. Not for folks who don't like Burley blends. Darn good product, wonderful tobacco. That's it. What else do you need to know?
There's was no well-photographed landing on the beach at Leyte this morning. And besides that, I have no clue what the general smoked. I'm guessing shoe-leather and drug-store syrup, he was that kind of man. The big Missouri Meerschaum he huffed was probably more a personal advertisement, much like Napoleon always sticking his right hand into his armpit before he greeted someone, or Wellington being secretive about his coming and goings. The quirk or foible by which the man may be known.
I do not have any quirks or foibles. Being a humble and realistic man myself. The corncob is a smoking tool, hardly an affectation. Burley blends are purely excellent in cobs, that's all there is to it. Haunted Bookshop is ALSO excellent in a regular briar pipe. My right hand smells of Burley leaf far more often than of left armpits; never of French oxster.
Burley stimulates, as it has more nicotine that most other tobaccos. Consequently it goes well with that first cup of coffee. The entrance to my apartment mate's room was firmly shut by 9:02 AM, and windows were open for ventilation. The tin aroma is of wine, of vegetation, and of villages in Autumn. Coffeeness and herbs.
Malty, cidrous, and lushly reproductive.
I am by no means crazy.
There's a fruit fly in the apartment.
NOTE: My schedule has changed. Baby-sitting the cigar smokers all weekend now. Mondays have opened up again.
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