Saturday, April 12, 2014


       Sometime back in the early 1980s the Grand Wizzzmo was a dirty, filthy, puffing machine. That's right my friends, I smoked them nasty cigarettes. The stupidest habit known to man. They do nothing for you and screw up the air that surrounds you, and oh, by the way, anyone that's around you also must breath your poison. Not good! That's right 99. But Max! No 99 stick a sock in it. My mouth Max? No 99 your ................. Excuse me, I got carried away there for a second.  
       Anyway, I was at a Card Room in Coos Bay called Gussies. This is where I spent many weekends playing cards and this one, was a real doozie. I was in a Hold-em game that always lasted all weekend and was playing for a long time, when faced with a proposition. I had been smoking lots of them nasty cigarettes and drinking gold tequila drivers for at least 10 hours. The man sitting to my right, was a non-smoker named Tom, who was a logger and loved to gamble. He had a hand shake like a vice grip and whore black rim glasses like Clark Kent and stood about 6ft.4 or more. He was definitely not the man you would expect to be blowing air softly on your arm, however, this is what the case was, as I said, "Tom..., why the fuck are you blowing air on my arm?" this was a pretty creepy feeling, getting my hairs accosted by Superman. He grumpily said, that my cigarette was blowing in his face and was sick and tired of it and was trying to change it's direction. He then said how I was just weak and addicted to cigarettes and couldn't give them up if I tried. Not only was I drinking and smoking, I was also kicking ass in the hold-em game, of which I was up $2200. Me weak? I was invincible!  Yea right.... I told him, that I could give them up anytime I wanted to and for the next 15 minutes we battled back and forth, trying to lay the ground rules for a $500 bet. Finally I said, "Tom I don't need your stinkin' money and crushed my pack of cigarettes and through them across the room and made the shot right in the trash ( a three pointer ) . Nice.
       Not too much later, my toxicity was catching up with me and I was feeling the dregs of that Gold Tequila. I cashed out almost five racks of red and headed to the parking lot to try to sleep it off. My trusty van was awaiting my arrival, where I immediately passed out. Oh the comforts of home. I woke up not too much later and spewed my guts out of my back doors. Man I felt like shit. About three hours or so went by and I needed to go to the restroom inside the 24 hour bar, restaurant and gambling establishment. The crushing of the smokes meant that I didn't have any to tempt me, as I gabbed a cup of Java. There were still some folks playing Black Jack and I observed the game as I drank my coffee. The previous nights pedestal that I was on, was no longer around anymore, when I spotted that pack of smokes on the ledge, by the coffee. I glared at it for awhile, knowing that I would just be a weakling if I gave in, just as Tom had said. I will no way break down and snag one. No way! After all, the pack was open, a box of Marlboro sitting right on that ledge, the ledge that was no more than 15 or 20ft away from me. That was it! Screw it Tom, I'm a weak but-head, what the f.... oh well. I took a cigarette from the pack and stuck it in my mouth, that's when the miracle occurred. I lit the match and started to suck in on that demon stick, ( the one that was responsible for my Mom and Dad's deaths amongst millions of others ) when it exploded in my face. The immediate shock turned all heads in the room my way. Oh what a sight I was, tobacco dangling from my beard and the filter still in the grasp of my teeth. The ten or so people that were left in the room, from a long night of gambling, were treated to a show. I also laughed boisterously, knowing that it was gonna be the last cigarette that I would ever light. At my weakest moment, it took an explosion to set my mind straight. Whoever left that pack of loaded smokes on that ledge that morning must have been my angel of deliverance. I have never lit up a nasty coffin nail since and wish that I could get my friends to see the light. Maybe I'll get some cigarette loads at the magic store downtown. Yea!

       Be cautious my friends          Wizzzmo

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