I didn't go into my local Walgreen's to buy the Imported Single. I was looking for gift cards. But once I got to the counter and saw the row of cigars, I had this undeniable urge to buy one. I had no idea which one would be the best, I had no idea how much it would cost, but for some reason I just had to have one.
The young man behind the counter was very helpful. I tried to be discreet with my purchase, but he had to summon the manager (in a loud voice) to make sure he was "old enough" to sell tobacco products. There was a line of people waiting behind me. I could feel their disapproval on the back of my neck. But, I walked out of the store with my gift cards and cigar, satisfied that I was finally man enough to do both in broad daylight.
When I got to my car, I took the cigar out of its wrapper and smelled it like those guys do in the movies. I realized it had a familiar smell. Dog poop.
I didn't smoke the cigar when I got home. I hid it in my sock drawer, and it's been there ever since. I'm surprised my wife hasn't discovered it because she can detect nasty dog poop smells a mile away. We don't have a dog, but that doesn't matter. She's got a good smeller. Or at least she did. Maybe she just thinks I have some dirty socks stashed away in my sock drawer. Either that, or she's gotten so used to my socks being stinky that she's desensitized herself toward them.
Anyways, I'm not sure why I bought the cigar. Maybe to see if my taste for tobacco had changed since the time I bought the pipe she doesn't know about. It's in my sock drawer, too.
Before I die, I'm going to smoke a cigar and a pipe bowl of tobacco. It'll probably kill me, but that's life.
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