called Senior Year, that I filled out last night,
which rendered a comment that made me remember
a very funny story.
(Let's just say, it wasn't very funny at the time.)
Gosh I don't even remember how old I was.
I was in elementary school though.
We lived in Ashford, CT.
Country living at its finest -
1/2 hour to get to a grocery store.
An hour to get to a decent grocery store.
Long bus rides to primary school.
Even longer bus rides to High School.
Long, long unpaved driveways that you
couldn't even see the road you actually lived on.
So we lived at the very top of this long driveway
(which is important to know at the end of this story).
My friend Christine lived across the street.
We used to sneak to the "shack" down the road a little
and "smoke" cigarettes.
My parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, you name it,
My mother even smoked straight through all three
of her pregnancy's.
She smoked after she found out she had lung cancer.
Now Christine and I smoked the cool cigarettes -
Marlboro. I don't even remember where she got them.
I am going to have to ask her.
But my mother smoked Kool Menthols.
And that is where this story really starts.
I stole a pack of her cigarettes.
Where ever I had hidden them,
she found them.
I am also sure that she knew,
by the minute how many packs were
left in her carton (yes, she bought them by the carton).
She was THAT avid of a smoker.
But as a kid you just don't think your parents use the
math skills they learned while going to school.
Lord, THEY COUNT EVERYTHING!!
from the money in their wallet
to the cigarettes left in their pack
to the amount of chocolate ice cream
left in the tub.
I didn't get away with shit.
But that didn't stop me nonetheless.
So she finds the cigarettes.
She calls Christine's mother and tells her
to go out and by a cigar...
She halls me upstairs into the bathroom...
"If you plan on smoking, you aren't going to sit there
and think you're cool puffing away on a cigarette. You
are going to learn how to smoke a cigarette the right way."
And she proceeded to make me smoke the entire pack.
All's I knew was
puff and blow,
puff and blow,
puff and blow....
She was having none of that.
the long driveway
and the cigar request.
a. Christine could hear me screaming, choking, gagging, crying...
from her house.
2. And my mother was planning on making me smoke the
cigar after I finished my pack of cigarettes.
Well, the latter never happened.
Now I know why we were in the bathroom
and I was made to sit on the side of the tub..
..........you know, in case I needed to puke........
The cops would be here in like, 4 seconds if we EVER
parented like that these days, don't you think?