I AM A FAG XXXV

There are few things less satisfying (and in my case, surprising) in life than accomplishing something one has determinely set out to do. In my case, it was seemingly succeeding in my repeatedly-attempted though never-realised dream of smoking cessation.

I was going strong, 'cutting back' to but a handful of cigarettes a day, limiting myself when out, rashioning my fags like any hard-working centrelink recipient should.

I was on the home straight, though suicidal thoughts rang loudly in my mind and the mere thought of a cigarette had me mid-orgasm, i felt as though SOMETHING good must come from this quitting bullshit, right? Yes prelonged life, health, blah blaaah..

Then came the most beautiful hurdle in my home straight immaginable-two brilliantly encased spanish cigarettes, bundled lovingly, poking out of my mailbox.

JOY! Now i had an excuse to resume my smoking where it left off, for it would be 'such a shame to waste 2 very decent packs of cigarettes'.. After all, my dear Miss Rossi had selflessly put effort into ensuring i get to sample spains finest tabacco produce.

I was not about to let my health or common sense stand in the way of my giant leap backward into the much-missed world of chain smoking. With both hands, i seizeed the packs greedily, oggling their fantastic figure and ravishing attire, and commenced my most satisfying suck and blow adventure ever.

(to be continued.. probably never....reviving old drafts....)