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The Twits

     A thin line spread across her lips, as she meekly smiled. She knew she got the better of it, but they were both thrown out of the pool. An hour later the studs were still jawing about it.

     “Can ya be leed det, fo a freaking cigawette, man."

     "Sheeeet!”

     Before I started smoking I used to be on the varsity swim team, and practiced at St. Mary’s pool, so I knew one of the life guards. Afterwards I asked him what happened.

     “Some stupid shit, man.” was his response. “That first twit wanted a smoke, and when one of the guys offered her a smoke, if she gave her pal a wedgie, she did it!”

     Really, the things we do for a smoke. Begging strangers for a smoke, you won’t beg for money, but you’ll beg for a smoke. Ask a stranger for a butt- really! The urge is so damned strong sometimes.

     One Saturday afternoon I visited a pal I hadn’t seen in a while. When I got there he was suffering a real bad hangover, and wanted…needed a smoke. I didn’t have any, because I was trying to quit at the time.

     He went on a rampage all over his place; under the cushions on the sofa, nothing; into the closets he went, searched all of his clothes, nothing. Suddenly, as we sat at the kitchen table, he looked at me, and smiled. He looked like the Cheshire cat.

     “Eureka!”

     He smiled, as he did an impression of Betty Boop's Granpy, a light had gone on his birdbrain.