The Time I Quit Smoking

I quit smoking for a spell back when I had an S.O.R. - uh - close to Gastown. I substituted my habit with shooting baskets in the park. My friend had no confidence in my resolve. But I can be surprisingly stubborn and proud. I knew the cameras were watching our every move down there. I didn't want to be caught stooping for a stinky old butt - maybe trying to hide it by pretending my laces need tying. The first week was the hardest. Cold turkey. No patch. No gum. Much coughing. Skin tone greenish. Facial expression unhappy. The doctor told me I was doing fine and gave me aspirins. Then around day five I noticed this butt on the stairs as I was heading up for my room one morning. I kept going right by it, but I remembered it. A few hours later I had to bring my trash down and I saw it was still there. Again I dismissed it with a chuckle. At 2:45 the next am I opened my door quietly and checked to see no one was in the hall. Stealthily in the dim I made my way back to the stairs. There my prize lay gleaming beneath me in the distance. Just a few steps to salvation. Tweezer like, my hand went out helplessly. Moments later I was back in my room, thinking myself quite the cunning fellow. I was about to sneak a smoke when everyone thought I quit! I pinched it between the thumbs and index fingers of both hands but it was packed in tight. I squeezed and squeezed. And grunted. Then when it burst open its foulness exploded about the whole room, almost knocking me to the floor. Its tobacco was scattered and I would proceed weedless. I stayed a non-smoker for several months afterwards, much to my friend's chagrin - for he could only thereafter think of me as a tobacco debutante rather than an all out addict. When I quit quitting smoking, it was only after I could again afford it, and I remember it took willpower for me to ask for my brand at the corner store.
More Scripts	Songs	Statements
© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.