Dear Sandy,
° Aren’t we fortunate in our taxidriver? (I say “ours,” because the County boasts only one cab.)
° The other day Friggitore was reminiscing about his childhood, and explained, very clearly,
How to Know When to Quit Smoking.
° Friggitore smoked his first cigarette when he was 5 years old. Before that he had been too clumsyfingered to roll them for his older sister (she used to wrap the papers around a pencil, tongue them shut, then try to poke the loose tobacco down one end--a very bad job).
° And he continued to smoke throughout elementary school.
° “How in the world did you buy the tobacco at that age?”
° Well he used his noggin. On the way to the store to buy lard or sugar or whatever the family had sent him to get, he kept his eyes peeled for Coca Cola bottles. When he’d found 5, he turned them in at the store for the penny refund, and used the nickels saved to purchase a pouch of tobacco. This was before inflation became the only way the American economy could pretend to be growing.
° O by the way, he was held back in first grade for being such a runt. But I’m sure it wasn’t the smoking.
° Things went on this way through junior high and high school. But one day his father caught him smoking. And he beat the living tar out of Friggitore. That was fine with Friggitore.
° But since Friggitore was smoking every day, and his father only caught and beat him every few days, Friggitore was troubled in his conscience. So he started confessing every afternoon when he got back from school. Much tar was beat out of him.
° The moment Friggitore turned 18--and I’m amazed there were any regulations in those days on child labour--he quit high school and found employment in a local factory. And every day when he returned home from a hard day’s work and a relaxing puff of smoke, he confessed and was beaten the tar out of.
° Then the paychecks began to come in. And Friggitore began to see that he had more cash money than his father.
° And pretty soon the fatal day of destiny arrived. It was a hot and sultry day, and Friggitore had sweated clear through while walking home. Confession and execution. But this time, the belt buckle reacted with the thin cotton sticking to the skin, and blood was brought.
° This offended Friggitore’s aesthetic sense. And ruint the shirt.
° So next day, when Pops prepared to beat the tar out, Friggitore grabbed the Dad’s right hand, looked Padre in the eye, and said, “We not gonna do this any more. I seen you smoke plenty of times back when, you as guilty as I am.”
° “Lad ((though Friggitore had outgrown his runtiness some years since)), I admit I used to smoke. But I quit.”
° “Yes, Paw, and when I decide to quit I will. So that be that.”
° And that did be that.
§§§§§
° Why did the father quit? Was it because of Big Brotherly health warnings or common sense?
° Well it was because--”I quit when tobacco went from 10cent to 12cent a pouch.”
° And when did Friggitore quit, and why?
° 35 years ago. “I quit when cigarettes went from 25cent to 30cent.”
° So yes, common sense.
° Phoning for Inch right now, Giac.
