There is a store in our hoody that is a gold mine for the two-for-one (or buy two, get one free) cigarette deals. Each and every time we go in...our brand, right there, half the price. Being a smoker in a land where cigarettes cost between six and eight dollars a pack (I've paid up to nine in the touristy neighborhoods *ahhem* Times Square *ahhem*) finding such a resource is not just a lucky break, it's a monetary necessity. A secret to be heavily guarded. The location of which never to be disclosed.
The owners of the the store are a remarkably friendly older couple. I love them both. Always kind, always happy to see you, always ready to share a recipe or chat about a local or world event--always coming through with the sweet, sweet deals on my drug of choice. They even mysteriously 'find' more two-fers of my brand when none are visible in the promotional display case.
Until yesterday. Yesterday the case was empty. "None?" I asked the husband, and glanced downward to the spot behind the counter from which the secret stash usually appears. He shook his head, negative. I looked back to the empty display case again. It occurred to me I had never seen one completely empty, at any store. There are always, ALWAYS a few passed-over packs of like, More Menthol 120's laying around. Not that I'd buy them if there were. Okay, who am I kidding. Let me go long enough without a cigarette and I'd smoke butts out of the ashcan in front of the neighborhood TB clinic. But that's not the point. The point is that people who willingly smoke More Menthol 120's are like baby squirrels: you know they exist, but you've never actually seen one.
"Yes, we sold out," he turned to his wife and spoke in Italian, she answered, he translated, "no more till next week." I reluctantly put down my cash for a single pack, my friend behind the counter noted my disappointment and apologized, "Sorry." he said, then added, "It's like all of a sudden, the people come, soon as we put them out they disappear."
Aha! All of a sudden. The deals just disappear. This can only mean that one of my neighborhood fellow-smokers--who also knew of and frequented my local cornucopia of deathly delights--spilled the beans to someone. Who then told someone. Goddammit! Probably one of those part-time smokers I bet. Who have absolutely no need for or understanding of the good fortune they'd stumbled upon. They just wandered into the coffee shop a few doors down and casually announced to a table full of writer/poet/actor/painters...hey, that tiny little bodega next door has got like a ga-jillion Camels buy one get one free. I can almost see the stampede, which alerted the geezers at the OTB and the housewives passing by. A few of whom smoke More Menthol 120's, I'll wager.
You have ruined my life, sir or madam squeals-a-lot, and I will find you. I will find you and you will pay. Seven dollars a day until I quit smoking.
Posted by Antigeist at January 10, 2006 02:13 PM