Smoking Is Like Kissing Death and The Cool Kids Are Here For It

Blah blah blah Surgeon General’s warning this, yadda yadda yadda lung cancer that. You claim you’re an “informed adult” but all I see is a grade A wanker. 

Speaking of grades, I assume you’ve just entered 1st? Cause I can’t tell if that’s saliva or mother’s milk in the corner of your mouth. Either way, it’s gross. And while I don’t normally entertain babies, please, elaborate on this anti-smoking fundamentalism of yours.

Shortens your longevity, you say? Real talk — in 2050 when Earth melts into a real-life Waterworld, do you really think you’ll crave old age? Personally, I’ve already planned my Viking funeral pyre; I’ll adiós myself with the same flame that lights my coffin wand. 

What else have you got against my lil’ cancer sticks? Arsenic, butane, cadmium — what is this, the ABCs of poison? Kid, I’m a woman living in America and I’ve been wading in a sea of toxic masculinity since birth, so it’ll take more than science to scare me into nicotine gum. 

I’m not at all surprised you’ve never chain-smoked in a closed-off room right before your friends arrive, timing it so that when they open the door, your hazy form moshes through the vapor, resulting in their immediate rally.

No wonder you spend all your time skulking on the CDC website. You’ve no imagination! No zest for life!

I admit, I feel a spark of sympathy for losers like yourself. Maybe you just haven’t been under the right influence. Do you have peers? Have they appropriately pressured you? You seem in desperate need of a friend. 

Oh, no, I wasn’t offering my friendship. However, while we’re on the topic of companionship, I’ll disclose something that may jazz up your evenings: whenever I light up, the Grim Reaper cozies up to me. Though he can be a bit of a fiend, I’ve found that a firm “Not tonight!” will startle him into removing his cold, hard bone off ya. 

Sigh. All your reasons to avoid our puff circle seem smoke and mirrors to me. If I’m honest, there is something that sets you apart, but the difference cannot be merged by you simply possessing a death stick— it’s how the spirit inside moves you to use it! 

For instance, you would never stub out a cigarette on someone’s face, regardless of how hopelessly dull they were.

I, on the other hand…



Katherine Shaw is a writer hiding out somewhere in the Pacific Northwest for reasons she can but won’t disclose. Her work has been featured in Weekly Humorist, Little Old Lady Comedy, The Haven, and more. Catch her latest oddities on Twitter/IG @daclassybiatch. 

Categories: Fiction

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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