"SHE SMOKED A MEAN CIGARETTE"
by Robb Allan


  As  I  entered  the school yard, I saw her standing beside
the building smoking a cigarette.  Her long red hair shining
in the  glow  of  the  street  light.   She  shook  her head
violently as if  having  a  grand  mal  seizure.   Her  hair
flipped to hang from the other side of her head.  I marveled
at  her ability to move all that hair without ever having to
touch it.  I approached  her,  intending to bum a cigarette.
"Hey, babe, is that a Marlboro in your  mouth,  or  are  you
wishing  you  could have my Marlboro?" "Fuck off, you little
dweeb!"
 
  I knew right then that it was going  to  be  a  love  hate
relationship.   You may be saying to yourself, she just told
you to fuck off,  you  moron,  there is no relationship, but
that's where you're wrong.  She was smiling as she said  it,
so I pushed a little harder.

  "Why don't you and I  go  in  and have ourselves a dance?"
"Sure you got enough Oxy to keep those zits out  of  sight?"
"I  don't use Oxy, baby, I use Clerasil.  And, yes, I have a
whole tube." She left her  perch  along the wall and took me
by the arm, "Let's go, hon." I  heard  the  DJ  announce  my
favorite  song,  "This  next one is for lovers, baby, 'Don't
Stop Believin'" Steve Perry's voice filled the cafeteria, as
we began our dance.  About  halfway through she whispered in
my ear, causing my Marlboro to ignite.  I didn't  care  what
she  was  saying,  'cuz I couldn't hear her, but the rush of
her breath in my ear was making me horny.
 
  She looked at me  as  the  song  ended.  I believe she was
actually looking through me.  I didn't  speak  for  a  long,
cool  minute.   She  continued to stare.  "What the fuck are
you starin' at me for?" I  said, the fingers of my left hand
danced upon my skull, as I adjusted my glasses.  "You didn't
hear a word I said did you, pimple boy?" "All I felt was you
blowin' in my ear like hurricane Andrew." "I said, just  how
much  fuckin'  money  do  you  have?"  She  produced another
cigarette and lit it.  The picture was all too clear.  I had
picked up a teenage  hooker.   But  my  values, or morals or
whatever were not as far advanced as my  tongue,  "About  30
bucks."  "Well,  you can get a blowjob for 25, but I want to
suck it all out of you." As she said this, she ran her index
finger along the front of her jeans, up her stomach, through
the valley, stopping  at  her  lips.   Her  soft pink tongue
flicked out and took a swipe at whatever she had  picked  up
along the way.  "I'll tell you what.  For thirty bucks, I'll
swallow."

  My Marlboro jumped and took  a  long  drag off my Fruit Of
The Loom's....  Every payday, she would come  to  my  house,
collect her thirty bucks, and inhale all the tobacco I could
cram  in her mouth.  After graduation, I tired of the weekly
slobjobs.  I  wanted  more  from  our  relationship.  All my
friends were getting married, and I wanted a  normal  lover.
I  spoke to Cyndi about it, and she was willing to give it a
shot.  She said she felt  that  fate had intervened when her
pimp, Johnboy, skipped  town,  and  that  returning  to  her
former lifestyle would be like spitting in fate's soup.

  Then,  about  a  month after the birth of our child, Cyndi
wacked out.  I had just put  the baby to bed and was sitting
down to watch Jeopardy, when she came up  behind  the  chair
and  kicked it.  The steel tip of her cowboy boots kissed my
spine, catapulting me  into  Alex  Trebek's  face.  I gently
removed my bloody face from  the  intestines  of  the  Sony,
fearing  further injury.  My back was playing "Bitch School"
by Spinal Tap.  My face bled profusely, but I didn't seem to
notice, "What the fuck is  running  through that pea pod you
call a brain, you ho!" "I'm so fuckin' tired of your sittin'
around all night.  Ever since we moved in together  all  you
do is drink, scratch, and fart!" "Is that any reason to drop
kick  me through the TV.  Dammit!  I think you killed Alex!"
The anger rushed out of  her  face, puddling at her feet.  A
single tear rolled down her cheek,  "I'm  sorry,  Gideon,  I
didn't  mean  to  hurt  you.   I  just  want you to pay more
attention to me."
 
  If I had said what was  on  my mind, 'Well, bitch, you got
my attention, now, what are you  gonna  do  with  it?',  the
fight  would have continued, but I played along for the time
being.   "It's  alright,  babe,   you  just  need  a  little
counseling for that temper 'o yours." I pulled her  head  up
against  my  shoulder with my left hand, gently stroking her
long red hair with  my  right;  "Why  don't you sit down and
collect your thoughts.  I'll go get us a couple'a beers."  I
went  into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, prepared
to let this episode pass.   Dragging it out would only serve
to piss her off, possibly sending me down a flight of stairs
instead of through a TV.  I thought about just  walking  out
the  door,  but I was not prepared to go looking for another
woman.  In  my  mind,  I  knew  that  no  one  could smoke a
cigarette like she could.
  
  Then I found the empty  carton.   It  had  once  contained
twelve  shiny  cans  of  Coors, but now it stood as empty as
Cyndi's thick skull.  I  snapped.  Suddenly it did