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May 5th 2010    Tim Candler

    Ominous, is the word we non-smokers reference during times of stress.  Odd noises, a telephone, gentle breeze, all contain Valkyrie so I dread to think what Colorado Beetle might achieve in us.  

   This time next week I'll probably weigh two and half tons.  The Grey Cat's good Mistress will lever me into a wheel barrow to show me fresh air.   I'll raise a pudgy finger, point at the Eggplant then in a frail voice define tasks for her.   And this time in two weeks time there may be some sort of a perfect crime because she reads a great deal and I am obnoxious. 

     Better to thank Odin for giving the United States a president who still smokes.   Marlboro Reds apparently.   Three to five cigarettes a day apparently.   Gosh, how difficulty honesty is.   And in the bad old days I was there amongst the perfect defining habit in purest terms, coming away like a paragon.  

    Yet I do remember a time when cigarettes came in packets of five.   And I used to wonder why.

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