Memoir Of A Cigar
Authors' note: these chapters(namely, the first three chapters) are from a "rough draft" of "Memoir Of A Cigar". I regret some of the story choices I made for these first three chapters, therefore I will be marking these first three chapters as "rough draft", however I did not want to delete these chapters altogether. The following chapters will start the actual series.
Right, a bit of backstory is probably in order, huh? My name is Pinkie. Maybe it's a nickname, maybe it's not. Who cares? My childhood friend, whose name is Fluoride, and I have been running an odd jobs shop for the past couple of years. You want your lawn cut? Money and it's a deal. Info on that neighbor who seems to be getting rather friendly with your wife? Money and it's a deal. Wanna "silence" that guy that's been getting a bit too close to finding out about some stuff he really shouldn't? Money and...actually, scratch that, murder might just be crossing a line. Bottom line is, you got money and a job? We'll do it, for the most part. The first year of business was rather simple. Clean and cut. We did the job, then we got paid. The start of our second year, however, was a bit more...interesting. Fluoride and I live in a one room apartment. If we position ourselves just right, we can both manage to fit in the bed. Anyway, one day we received a package addressed to me. The package contained a cigar. That's it. A hot magenta cigar with cyan blue circles going down the cigar. Both Fluoride and I were, of course, interested. We both had a smoke with it and then proceeded to carry on with our day.
The next day, I randomly decided to smoke the cigar. At the same time I took a puff of the cigar, I just happened to be focusing on a certain individual across the street. The moment I used the cigar, I was hit with an intense feeling of vertigo. When I regained my balance, I realized there was a big, booming voice coming from the sky. To add to the weirdness of the situation , as well as add to my fear, everyone on the street had transformed into shadowy figures. At first, I thought the day of judgement had arrived and contemplated falling to my knees in a last ditch effort to repent. Instead, I used the cigar in an effort to calm my nerves. However, when I got done taking a smoke, everything was back to normal. No voice of god raining down from the heavens, and no shadow people. Obviously being shook, I quickly scurried home.
I told Fluoride the whole story, fully expecting him to contact the nearest psychiatric hospital shortly after. To my surprise, however, he believed me without a second thought. With me being a nervous wreck, Fluoride was the one that first pointed out the connection between the cigar and what happened. He convinced me to test it out again. I was, of course, hesitant, but I would be lying if I said part of me wasn't curious about this whole ordeal. So, against my better judgement, Fluoride and I went back to that street.
When we arrived, I pointed out the individual I was focusing on at the time to Fluoride. Fluoride, putting his hand on my shoulder, told me to try focusing on the man again. When my attention was wholly directed towards the individual, I took a puff of the cigar and...
[TO BE CONTINUED...]