Chain Smoker

Intro: I had this dream when I was in high school. Also, I don’t smoke.


I was with a group of friends from one of those extra curricular activity clubs (W.A.C.C. for those of you who would know). We gathered at school an hour or so before school began and were planning our escape. We were ditching for the day.

We got out of the building okay. Walking through the school parking lot in the back, everybody was calm except me. I was a little paranoid that we would get caught. The school’s parking lot turned into video game setting at a dock. There were crates, hay, cargo, all sorts of props that reminded me of what any port would have looked like in the early 1900s or Street Fighter. It turned foggy and dark.

The group continued walking for miles; it seemed we didn’t have much of a plan. I start to get a bad feeling and told everyone we should go back. It was quiet, nothing was happening around us, so naturally my plea was ignored. We kept walking through the dark fog, in between the props. I felt like at any moment, people appear from behind the crates and cargo with steal poles and big muscles ready to attack us.

I was so paranoid and scared that I thought this would be a good time to pick up smoking. What better opportunity? I found a spot behind a crate so no one would catch me smoking for the first time.

In my left hand I had four cigarettes, once in between each finger.
In my right hand I had two fat cigars. I lit up. All at once.

It was as if smoking was eating, and I hadn’t eaten in weeks.

I inhaled the tobacco from each cigarette, one after another, then to my right hand, inhaled the cigars, and finally exhaled. I wouldn’t let my breath go until I inhaled the tobacco from all of them, in a pattern. I was in such frenzy that when I finally looked up, I noticed I lost my friends in the fog. They must just be up ahead, I told myself.

No sign of them. I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything. The place was dead in sound and activity, except for the dense fog strolling along in the street lights.

I hid behind a crate for sometime, cold, scared, and smoking.

Finally, I hear the sound of an engine and a familiar voice. My friends found a van.
I threw all of my cigarettes and cigars on the ground and jumped into the moving van with the sliding side door.

Apparently others were lost in the fog too. I got in the van and we continued the search to find the rest of our group.