Kunchok Dingyon
Mr. Fletcher
English Lit AP
March 25, 2018
The Cigarette The physician pushes open the door, a cold breeze chills his face. He reaches into his jacket for his smokes, drawing out a long white cigarette. "Bum me a fag?" The physician turns and hands the brit a cigarette. The brit lights them both up with a "snik" of his lighter. He takes a long drag and holds it in, one mississippi, two mississippi. Then he releases a blast of smoke that is quickly blown away in the cold January wind. The brit realizes that his bus will be here soon, he greedily takes in a couple more large gasps, the motion more fitting for an asthmatic with an inhaler. He extinguishes the cigarette, and tapping off the ash puts the rest into his coat pocket.
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The taste and smell of cigarettes are an acquired taste, like cheese or coffee or wine. Like coffee, the initial bitterness assaults you triggering your gag reflex. But eventually you appreciate the flavors that hide behind the bitterness. It 's the same way with cigarettes. The taste of a cigarette can be delicious on the tongue and the smoke can heat the lungs such as a dragon breathing fire. The connoisseur can tell of the wood that the tobacco was cured with, the length of time it was cured, the sweetness or bitterness of the flavor, the airy notes that it leaves …show more content…
Instead, let us like Virgil and Dante turn from that path and scrutinize the multitude of characters that utilize the empyrean pipe. Some take long ponderous draws and contemplate the weighty chattels of this ball; Their smoke is sylphlike, rising softly as if made of gossamer. The embers glow steadily, like a lantern or a lighthouse, illuminating the path for others to follow. Then there are those who revel in gaiety and mirth-the Stubbs of the world-who live in the moment. Their smoke has substance, leaving the orifices as opaque whiffs and puffs. The light from their cigarettes burning merrily like the fireplace in the living room. Finally, there are those who brook the Sisyphean bale that life pegged to them. Their smoke is heavy and choking, belching out as if a foundry or a coal plant. Their light burns with the intensity of Apollo when he smote Patroclus: a brief pained and angry flash in the dark