Sarah grabbed her coat from her locker and ran for the door
with an unlit Marlboro 100 dangling from her lips. She had
her lighter in her hand and was ready to light up as soon
as she hit the exit. It was less than fifty yards from
Sarah’s locker to the front door of the school, but Sarah
was panting heavily by the time she reached the doorway. It
had been nearly two hours since her last cigarette and her
hands were trembling badly. As she stepped outside the door
she leaned against the school building to steady herself
and flicked her lighter to life. Using both hands, to keep
the lighter steady, she brought the flame close to the end
of her cigarette. Her cheeks indented deeply as she drew
hard on the clean, white filter of her Marlboro Gold. The
flame jumped from the lighter onto the end of Sarah’s
cigarette. The tip of her cigarette glowed brightly as her
cheeks continued to indent. Sarah listened to the crackling
tobacco flakes which gladly turned to ash in order to
nourish Sarah’s craving lungs. She removed the cigarette
from her mouth and parted her lips. A thick ball of dense,
creamy smoke danced momentarily on Sarah’s tongue before
she started her enormous inhale. Her chest began to expand
as she drew all of the rich smoke deep into her already
badly damaged, seventeen year-old lungs.
There was no telling how badly damaged her lungs were, but
Sarah knew it was bad. She had been smoking, literally, her
entire life. Her wheezing, which had started when she was
in kindergarten had now become very noticeable. Sarah’s
classmates could always tell when Sarah was in one of the
stalls in the girls’ restroom. The sound of her breathing
was that noticeable. Some of the meaner, anti-smoking girls
would frequently mock Sarah by making loud wheezing sounds
of their own whenever they saw her. This didn’t bother
Sarah in the least. It only made her want to smoke more.
She knew the other girls would not feel that way if they
would only try smoking themselves. They just didn’t
understand what they were missing out on.
Sarah was now smoking close to four packs per day. Her
daily consumption had grown steadily over the years, ever
since she had started smoking a pack per day at the
unbelievable age of three. Sarah’s lungs had never been
given the chance to develop normally. They had been
battered and abused since the day Sarah took her first
smoky breath in this world. Sarah’s breathing capacity was
far below that of a normal, healthy seventeen year-old
girl, as evidenced by her heavy panting and rapidly beating
heart following the short sprint from her locker to the
door. Sarah would never know the exhilarating feeling of
jogging five miles on a summer morning. She would die
having never known the feeling of inhaling fresh mountain
air into pink virgin lungs. But, as she felt the arousing
effect of the nicotine now entering her bloodstream, she
knew she would never want it any other way.
Sarah held all the smoke from her first drag deep within
her blackened lungs as she began another monster drag. The
smoke felt so good going down. The smoke felt so good as it
soaked into her lung tissue. The smoke felt so good! Sarah
wanted to hold the smoke in her lungs forever. Smoke that
was exhaled was smoke that was wasted, as far as Sarah was
concerned.
Sarah completed her triple pump and luxuriated in the
feeling of her smoke-filled lungs. She loved the tightness
in her chest that she felt when her lungs were packed full
of smoke. She started to relax as the shakiness in her
hands went away. It was shortly after 5pm on a Friday
evening and Sarah was still at school. It was her junior
year of high school. Sarah had stayed late to finish an
assignment in her chemistry class. She had missed the
school bus. She had decided that she would walk home.
Sarah’s home was about three miles from the high school.
She figured she could smoke an entire pack in the time it
would take her to walk that far. In fact, she would make
sure of it. She knew she would have to make several rest
stops along the way in order to catch her breath. Hell, she
may even have time to smoke two packs!
The shortest way home was for Sarah to cut across the back
of the school grounds. She would have to cross over the
athletic fields. As Sarah approached the running track she
leaned against the end of the bleachers to light another
cigarette. While performing yet another lung-saturating
triple pump Sarah noticed a solitary figure running around
the track. She decided to stay and watch while she finished
her cigarette.
Sarah recognized the runner. It was Nicki St. James, the
captain of the girls’ track team. Nicki had won several
awards in city and state track meets. Her specialty was
cross-country. She was one of the most popular girls in
school and she was one of the most militant anti-smokers
Sarah knew. Nicki was one of those mean-spirited kids who
always made wheezing sounds when they saw Sarah. Sarah used
to hate Nicki intensely, but she had lately softened her
stance, not only on Nicki, but on antis in general. She had
come to realize that most of them were just repeating stuff
they had learned from their parents. She felt that most of
them were people who were unhappy with their own lives and,
therefore, tried to tell others how to run theirs. Sarah
understood how a person could choose not to smoke. What she
didn’t understand was how a person could believe that he or
she knew, better than Sarah, how Sarah should live her own
life. She truly believed that if the anti-smokers could
ever experience the feeling that Sarah felt whenever she
smoked, they would quickly change their tune.
As Sarah watched Nicki running around the track she could
see the sweat glistening in the evening sun on Nicki’s
hard, athletic body. The definition of Nicki’s finely honed
muscles was clearly evident as Sarah felt a twinge of
jealousy. “What a perfect body,” Sarah thought to herself.
For a moment Sarah was envious of Nicki. She wondered what
it would feel like to be able to sprint a hundred yards and
not collapse like a rag doll. She wondered what it would be
like to be able to sleep through the night without
coughing. For a fleeting instant Sarah wondered if she
should consider giving up her lifelong companions, her
beloved Marlboro 100s. She wondered if it was too late for
her. Could she ever have a body like Nicki’s? If she quit
smoking today, could her lungs ever be as pink and healthy
as Nicki’s?
Sarah was jolted back to reality as she thumped her fist
hard against her chest, dislodging something deep within
her tar-entrenched lungs. She coughed a deep, hoarse,
gurgly cough, forcing up the lung-waste which had worked
itself loose. She hacked up a large wad of brown-speckled
phlegm and spit it to the ground. As she started another
deep drag on her cigarette, and felt the familiar, arousing
tingling passing through her body, she thought, “God! What
am I thinking? How could I ever consider giving up the one
thing that has brought me nothing but joy and pleasure? Why
would I want to be like Nicki? She has never felt the
pleasure that I feel every day. She is the most uptight
individual I have ever known. I don’t give a f— if I die
before Nicki does. At least I will enjoy every minute of my
life. Nicki doesn’t seem to get enjoyment out of anything
except making other people miserable.” Sarah took another
deep drag and felt a familiar moistness in her crotch as
she inhaled the smoke deep into every one of her clogged
air sacs.
Nicki ran several more laps around the track before heading
over to the bleachers to grab her duffel bag. She had not
yet noticed Sarah standing there. As Nicki approached the
bleachers she wrinkled up her nose and looked around
quickly. “God! It’s you, Sarah. Sarah the wheezer,” said
Nicki derisively. “I thought I smelled cigarette smoke.”
Nicki started making wheezing sounds as she moved closer to
Sarah. “What’s the matter? Is the girls’ restroom closed?
That’s where you usually smoke, you pathetic loser.”
“Hi, Nicki, it’s nice to see you, too,” said Sarah, trying
hard to maintain her composure. She took another long drag
and pulled all of the glorious smoke deep into her
tar-coated lungs.
“Jesus, Sarah! All you ever do is smoke. Can’t you do
anything else?” asked Nicki.
“Sometimes I eat,” said Sarah, taking another long, deep
drag as she stared Nicki straight in the eyes.
“Very funny, wheezer. You never do anything in gym class.
Whenever we play softball, you can’t even run to first
base. Doesn’t it bother you that you’re such a pathetic
non-athlete?”
“That’s all kid stuff, Nicki. I guess some of us just
mature faster than others,” said Sarah, taking yet another
lung-filling drag from her cigarette. She held all the
smoke deep in her still hungry lungs and let her cigarette
dangle from her lips.
“Mature? Ha! You look real mature with that burning weed
hanging out of your mouth,” said Nicki.
“It really turns guys on,” said Sarah. “You ought to try it
some time, Nicki.” Sarah took an exceptionally long, slow
drag and started blowing a long series of perfect smoke
rings in Nicki’s direction.
“That’ll be the day,” laughed Nicki. “Do you think I want
to end up like you and all your asshole smoker friends?
Jesus! You’re probably going to end up strapped to an
oxygen tank, with cancer in your lungs, still sucking on
your filthy old cigarettes. Your lungs must smell like
dirty ashtrays!”
Little did Nicki know how much that thought aroused Sarah
who was still blowing smoke rings. With smoke still exiting
her mouth, Sarah said, “Yeah, so what’s the downside?”
“God! What an asshole you are!” shouted Nicki. “It’s bad
enough that I have to hold my breath every time I go into
the girls’ restroom. And that rotten smell never comes out
of my sweaters. Thank all your loser friends for me.”
“The anti doth protest too much, methinks,” thought Sarah
to herself. She was still blowing smoke rings from the four
drags she had stored in her lungs without exhaling. It
seemed to go on forever. Nicki appeared to be mesmerized by
the endless stream of smoke coming out of Sarah. Sarah was
trying her hardest not to lash out at Nicki. She didn’t
want to give her any more ammunition to use against
smokers. She finally stopped the smoke ring show and said,
“I’m sorry you hate me so much, Nicki. I’ll try not to
bother you anymore.” Rapid bursts of smoke came out of
Sarah’s mouth with each word she spoke and, when she
finished speaking and closed her mouth, two long, thick
jets of smoke shot out of each of her nostrils as she
finally finished exhaling the smoke from her four drags.
Nicki was clearly taken aback by the sheer volume of smoke
that Sarah had just exhaled. “God, Sarah! How can you hold
that much smoke in your lungs? I’ve never seen anyone do
that.”
“Seventeen years of practice and you could do it, too,”
quipped Sarah.
“Seventeen years? Yeah, right!” said Nicki. “You’re
seventeen, just like I am. Even you couldn’t be that
pathetic. You must have started pretty young, though. You
were smoking the first time I ever saw you, and that was in
the fourth grade, the year my family moved here. When did
you really start?”
“I know you think I’m joking, but I was already smoking
over two packs a day when I was in the fourth grade,” said
Sarah, filling her lungs again with another long, slow drag
from her nearly finished cigarette.
“Oh, Jesus! That’s sick, Sarah! Why do you do it? How can
you do that to your lungs?”
“Well…it’s hard to explain, Nicki, but I love it…I just
love it…more than anything else in the world. Nothing
feels better than having my lungs filled with smoke. I
can’t imagine being without it.” Sarah’s eyes seemed to
moisten. “I wouldn’t ever want to quit smoking…even if I
could.”
Nicki was suddenly speechless. She could tell Sarah was
sincere. She felt pity for Sarah, but, at the same time,
felt a strange sense of envy. She wished there were
something in her life that she could feel so passionate
about. Sure, there was her running, but that was different.
She did that, not out of love, but out of an intense desire
to beat her competitors. It gave her a sense of
superiority, and a needed ego-boost, whenever she won a
race. But running didn’t fulfill her, not the way smoking
apparently did for Sarah. Nicki felt a sudden and
out-of-character pang of conscience and said, “Hey, I don’t
hate you, Sarah. It’s just your smoking I hate…and…and
what it’s doing to your body. I just wish you would quit,
that’s all.”
“Thanks, Nicki,” said Sarah, pulling another cigarette out
of the pack in her purse. With the unlit cigarette dangling
from her lips she said, “And I promise, I will quit…the
day I die!” Sarah had a grin on her face as she lit her
cigarette from the glowing butt of her previous smoke. She
took a long, cheek-hollowing drag and pulled all the smoke
deep into her lungs. Without releasing any smoke at all,
she took another long drag and inhaled deeply. She then got
right into Nicki’s face and said, “Good luck on your next
race, Nicki. See ya’ later.”
Nicki braced herself for the large burst of smoke she
expected would hit her in the face, but it didn’t happen.
Sarah had mastered the technique of exhaling only air and
retaining all of the smoke deep in her lungs. What hit
Nicki in the face was a thin, barely visible haze scented
with Sarah’s breath, her smoker’s breath, which had come
from deep within Sarah’s tar-saturated lungs.
Sarah’s breath was sweet, almost intoxicating, not at all
what Nicki was expecting. Instead of turning her face away,
Nicki sniffed, and sniffed again, trying not to be too
noticeable. She felt a strange sensation and started to
blush. She quickly turned away and said, “Thanks, Sarah.
I’ll see you around. Uh…you should come to our track meet
tomorrow. It’s going to be right here. Maybe watching all
those hardbodies in action will give you the incentive you
need to quit smoking.”
“I highly doubt that,” said Sarah with a sheepish grin.
“But maybe I will come to watch. It’s something to do while
I sit in the bleachers and chain-smoke Marlboro 100s all
day.” Smiling, Sarah took one more monster drag from her
cigarette and pitched it to the grass right at Nicki’s
feet. With smoke pouring from her nostrils she turned away
and started her arduous journey home.
As Sarah slowly faded out of sight, Nicki stared at the
freshly lit, nearly whole Marlboro Gold smoldering in the
grass in front of her. She could still smell Sarah’s breath
as the smoke from Sarah’s cigarette reached her nostrils.
Nicki’s natural instinct was to crush out the cigarette
with her shoe. But something was stopping her. She felt an
unfamiliar sensation coming over her. Sarah was now a mere
speck on the horizon as Nicki continued to stare at the
cigarette.