Aug 19 2013

A Good Day (A brief allegorical story about the pleasures of smoking)

Published by at 5:09 am under Prose

A Good Day

by Sander Roscoe Wolff

The alarm blared painfully as the sun cut through the window shutters and sliced into my eyelids. The sun always managed to do that. I rolled over and blindly reached for my pack of Marlboros that I always leave on my night table, next to the overflowing ash tray. A warm feeling flowed through me as my hand closed around it. With my eyes still closed, I popped the flip-top, expecting the sweet scent of tobacco to waft up toward my waiting nose.


I slid my fingers inside the pack and felt around.


My heart was racing now, beating madly inside my chest. I was out of cigarettes! I felt beads of sweat pop out of my forehead as the implications of this discovery slammed into my fevered brain. No cigarettes before opening my eyes. Fresh air in my lungs first thing in the morning instead of warm smoke gently stoking my body into consciousness. Shower, breakfast, driving to work without a cigarette. My mind raced. I had a half hour to shower, dress, eat and drive to work. I could brush my teeth and use extra deodorant, skip the shower and food, stop at the 7-11 on the way to work and still have time to knock in a couple of nails before I walked through the door. I raced through my obligatory tasks and jumped into my pick-up truck, turned the key and nothing. No click. No roar of pistons.


I jumped out and ran to the back of my house, opened the garage and jumped onto my Sears Free Spirit 10 speed bike. This was ok. I took the shortcut onto Atherton and, as I was approaching the driveway into the Arco station on Bellflower, a Fiat cut me off and I went slamming into it. I had the strange sensation of time slowing down as I flew through the air. I could see the exact spot where my head would smack against the asphalt.

I lay there, bleeding and delirious, with endorphins numbing the pain when an old man leaned over me, asking if I was injured. My lips worked, trying to form the words, but no sound came out. He put his ear against my lips and I managed to gasp “Cigarette!” He smiled knowingly, pulled out a pack of Marlboro flip-tops and took one out. He lit it and held it to my lips as I inhaled deeply. I knew then that it was going to be a good day.

2 responses so far

2 Responses to “A Good Day (A brief allegorical story about the pleasures of smoking)”

  1. Ken Forbeson 23 Aug 2013 at 12:21 pm

    Great story Sander. The singular mindset involved in such a powerful craving is perfectly described and the sequence of events in those familiar places (including the old shortcut) really put me there again. All the way up to your collision with the Fiat I was with you. Now I’m heading out to to our break area outside our plant to have a smoke. Thanks Sander.

  2. Sanderon 23 Aug 2013 at 12:46 pm

    Ken, thanks for reading, and for the kind words. I wrote this a long time ago and recently rediscovered it. It is interesting to view a past self with the eyes of my current self. I’m glad I’m not living that life now.

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