Day XXlX

Buy ya own smokes

     I suppose some parents gave their kids spendoodits for smokes, but mine did not. I was lucky to have a family that loved me, and a place to live.

     “Old enough to smoke, old enough ta buy ya own!” my old man would say.

     Some of us could afford our smokes, others would use their lunch money, and eat less. Methinks
Nose did that, that skinny ass used his lunch money. He always looked like he needed a meal. Others
were always begging for a smoke, and sometimes a wise ass would ask,

     “Canya spa anoda fo latah, man!”

     “Git da eff away fom me, man!” Usually came the response.

     Some cats had chutzpah to spare, they had some gonads, you know. I guess like junkies who can’t
afford their habit, they begged. But can you imagine a junkie begging his dealer for a fix? Speaking of
which, it was around that time that Joe became Joe Finger. There was a poor old lady either on the
fourth or fifth floor. Twice in one month her beloved radio was stolen. She would sit by her window,
smoking and listen to it all day. She didn’t care much for television.

     “Its always the same old crap!” she used to say.

     Same as today I guess, for all the cable channels we pay for, there never seems to be anything to look at, and like she used to say, it really is the same old nothing.