I remember that time Grandpa caught me smoking. He decided to teach me a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget. He reached into his faded coveralls and pulled out a hand rolled cigarette and said, “Here, you want to smoke? C’mon let’s have a smoke!”.
Well, I was kind of nervous at first, but after a couple of puffs I started to feel pretty good. That’s when I realized Grandpa and I weren’t smoking just an ordinary cigarette.
“Kinda grabs you by the boo-boo, don’t it?” Grandpa chuckled.
Then we hopped into the old truck and Grandpa popped some Pink Floyd into the 8-Track player and we drove into town and spent over sixty dollars on salt and vinegar chips and gummi worms.
The End
