Nic, a teen dwelling amongst others in a packed box.
“I cant wait until I get out of Malboro.
“Shut up over there!” one yelled from the corner wall.
A damaged coffin nails last words before tobacco trickled out his head. “My cig, you don’t know what’s outside this box. Who knows if we’d want to even leave this harsh environment. None of us do. We might miss it once we’re chosen to find out. Knowing that, I’m content with where I’ve been placed. And you should be too.”
My friend Ricky Lee began smacking a pack of stoges he stole, maybe two moments ago.
“Why do you tap the box like that?” Kcalb asked behind the glasses.
“Its kinda like-” beating louder continuously “waking them up, making them fresh.”
“Oh.”
“Its opening.” Nic announced.
Everyone inside began cheering, congratulating, wishing him luck being the first chosen.
Placed between dry lips, “Got a spark?”
Kcalb assisted, thinking of his participation, and glanced at Nic.
“What?” confused, as the tick of an empty lighter ticks, showing spark flame.
“Oh no, shit-guys! Hey! Help!” Ricky put the stolen Reds 100s in his back pocket.
Within the quick seconds left to himself.
Not knowing fate designed, cram packed aligned with nineteen others. “They’re all gonna experience-” gets the lighter working, “this.”
Each puff puffed blew clouds of Nics soul, second hand flowing with the air.
While normal conversations continued.
“Do you smoke stoges Kcalb?”
“Naw man, if I were to fuck up my lungs, it’d be with weed.”
“Hmm, understandably true.” Ricky tossed the butt of a still lit cigarette, and off we went.
Nic was smoked in the Hi Ho parking lot.
Giving lung cancerous revenge, however many years later.
As warned on the box.
14:24:37
7/20/12
