The Lonely Smoker

Quickly he buttoned up his old worn out pea jacket.  He turned the collar up against the bitter wind that was blowing in from the north.  Dam, he had forgotten his hat again! His head nearly bald now could no longer take the cold. He huddled over, desperately trying to protect the flame of his match.  Finally the cigarette was lit, the orange glow giving him a sense of relief as he inhaled the nicotine deeply into his lungs. He put his gloves back on covering up his yellow stained hands, discoloured from years of smoking.

His lips quivered as he thought of the good old days!  Ahhhhhhhhh!  His smoked filled memory was overloaded with pictures of his youth.  In the old days there would be nonene of this standing in the cold to partake of his favourite habit, what had gone wrong with the world?

His eyes blurred with tears as he longed for days gone by.  Oh the glory times of the smoke filled pub.  He remembered the dark wood panelled walls and dimly lit rooms of the past.  Red linens adorned the tiny round tables.  Ashtrays would be everywhere!  Wonderful butt filled ashtrays.  Cigarette burned carpets covered the floors only adding character to the place.  Brass railings encircled the rarely used dance floor. He and his buddies weren’t there to dance they were there to drink and smoke.  Draft were two for a quarter making it pretty darn cheap to get a buzz on.

God he used to be proud to be a “smoker”.  He pictured himself lounging around the green felt top of the old pool table, cue in hand strategizing his next shot, a cigarette dangling from his lips. NOW that was the picture of cool, that was what the ladies liked!  That was a man!

Suddenly his thoughts returned to the present.  He stubbed out his cigarette in the new fangled outdoor ashtray.  Shaking his head The Lonely Smoker wondered what the world had come to.  Oh well his five dollar beer was waiting for him inside never again to be shared with his little nicotine friend.