04 14 00

strength and fright

It has officially been a week since I stopped smoking. It hasn't been easy. The worst past has been being around other smokers. Today, I went to my sister's place to pick her up, and she was smoking. I watched her raise the cigarette to her lips, inhaling, exhaling a stream of curled smoke.

Somewhere in the back of my mind something said, "You know, you could ask her for a smoke. She'd give it to you. All you have to do is ask."

I didn't ask. It was a near thing, though.

I've learned a few things in the week since I've been smoke-free. First and foremost, I learned that I can do this. I am capable of not smoking. Over the years, I'd wondered if I could. I never gave it long enough to find out.

Some other things that I've learned:

• Smokers stink. Now, I'm not going to become a rabid reformed smoker or anything, I promise. Self-righteousness is something that I don't feel a need for. I'm saying that - literally - smokers stink. They smell bad. I can smell them from 100 feet away. When they talk to me, it's worse. Raunchy smoke-stink pours out of their mouths in a vile cloud. It's all I can do to keep from wrinkling my nose at them.
  
  
• Cat poop stinks. I knew this already, but it's worse than I feared. Cat poop reeks.
  
  
• The kitchen sink stinks. I had no idea! And no matter what I've tried to do about it, nothing seems to work. The stink lingers. It smells like something crawled down there and died... A bit of dinner, most likely. Ick.
  
  
• Jaws stinks. Well, her breath does, anyway. It smells like cat food. Imagine that. And - in addition to her breath and poop stinking - her farts really stink. She's just a little stink factory.
  
  
• Spring smells good. At least everything doesn't stink. grin I can smell flowers, and dirt, and rain... It's all good.
  
  
• Climbing stairs shouldn't make me run out of breath. This is a concept! I can climb the stairs and not have to pant for a few minutes. Amazing, simply amazing.
  
  And finally...
• Twenty bucks can last me a week. This is also a new concept. That $20 I get out of the ATM on Friday can last me though the weekend and the next week! Check that out! I'm boggled.
  
  
• When I don't smoke... my fingers don't smell funny.

I'm sure there will be more revelations... Like, I'm fairly sure that the whole Quit thing is part of what's made me horny. Stay tuned.

Late Last Night

I heard something very disturbing last night.

While I was chatting with Dave, I heard - very faintly - a scream for help. I swiveled my head around, trying to find the direction that the sound was coming from, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere. The drone from the computer fan seemed to be drowning it out, so I stepped away.

The noise stopped.

I sat back down and heard the sound again. It was a woman screaming at the top of her lungs for help. "Hellllllllllp! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Help me!" I stood up and went upstairs to my bedroom.

I cracked the window in my room and peered down at the empty parking lot and sidewalks. Nothing stirred. And yet - very quietly, almost on the edge of hearing, I could hear the screams. I still couldn't locate the direction. In fact, the scream was so faint I couldn't even be sure that I was really hearing it.

Going back downstairs, I decided to call the police. But... What would I tell them? "Uh, hi. I think I hear screaming, but I'm not sure where it might be coming from." Sure. So I decided to go outside and have a listen. Not the brightest thing I could have done, but I was rather at a loss as to what to do.

Donning my shoes and coat, I grabbed my broadsword off the wall (the only weapon I have in the house) and stood outside on my patio. For ten minutes. I really wanted a cigarette.

I didn't hear a damn thing. No other lights were on. I didn't see anyone.

After failing to hear even the faintest whisper of a scream, I went back inside and sat down at my computer.

I heard the scream again. But instead of panic, this time the scream resounded with anger.

I flew to the door and flung it open. Silence.

And so I resolved to sit at my computer and ignore the sounds I heard. Eventually they stopped.

I was tortured all night.

What if I really did hear someone screaming? I should have called the police. I should have done something. Well, maybe it was just some weird sound reflection you heard while sitting at your computer. And the noise you heard upstairs was your brain just remembering what the sound sounded like.

Tortured, I tell you.

I woke early from a restless sleep and peered outside. No police cars blocked the parking lot. No ambulances idled anywhere to be seen.

When I was leaving this morning, I saw my neighbor. "Did you hear anything last night?"

"Nope," she replied.

Maybe I really didn't hear anything. I'm hoping... hoping!... that all I heard was cats mating (or something), and my mind twisted the sound into a scream for help.

Then again, if I find out someone was beaten or raped or killed last night... I don't know if I'll be able to forgive myself.

Quit-o-meter

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