​​​

​East Fork:

A Journal of the Arts​​



Conner Schrader

An Odd Case of Lycanthropy


      Nicotine will always be my drug of choice. Number one over ANYTHING. Nicotine
addiction will follow me to the grave and I’m okay with that. This chemical controls my life but
I chose for it to be the leader. My first thought in the morning when I wake up is to locate my
pack of cigarettes and my day does not start until that first cigarette is burned all the way down,
straight to the filter. That first drag is what clears the mental fog of the early morning and
nowadays I need it to function properly. You’ll all say I’m severely addicted and I know I am.
You can judge me and say what you want about my “problem,” but in the end, I pity you that
you’ll never know the feeling of a warm cigarette buzz while witnessing a July sunset. Or a hot
puff of smoke in the dead cold of winter. Or that slow relaxing exhale of a post-sex cigarette.
You get the idea.
     People like me need cigarettes.
     Let me explain:
     This whole fucking mess started the moment I made the decision to crash my assigned
taxi cab for the night into oncoming traffic on Route 56. This isn’t standard taxi driver
behaviour, believe me, I know. It was a stupid decision but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t ask for
any of this to happen and I really need you to understand that. I’m lucky to even be alive right
now.
     Here’s the thing, I know I have told you some startling things about me so far, but I
promise you I’m just a simple man. I’m a simple man who was incorrectly placed in the life I
live today. Somewhere along the line, I was driven off the right path and I don’t know where
exactly I went wrong. The places I go, the people I meet, the things I do, none of it has ever felt
right. Don’t get me wrong, I still manage to live my life to the fullest regardless of my
circumstances but nonetheless there’s still a looming feeling of uncertainty that always occupies
a space in the back of my head. It’s too late to fix what I have done now. I can’t sit around all
day thinking about the “What ifs.” That will only set me backwards. What I need to focus on
right now is acceptance and moving forward.
      I have a lot of explaining to do so let me start out with my job.
      Taxi driving has been in my family for several generations now. My brothers drive, our
father was a driver, his father was a driver, and so on. The funny thing is none of us ever wanted
to be a taxi driver in the beginning. It always ended up being the last and only option for us. If
you believe in bad luck, you could say the men of my family were tainted with it. Despite our
individual streaks of bad luck our lives inevitably seemed to stumble over, and no matter how
bad we wanted to be somewhere else in life, we all seemed to have a hidden knack for the art of
successful taxi driving. It was almost like it was an inherited trait passed down from our father.
With time, we all ended up falling in love with the trade.
     The truth is, our talent and love for taxi driving formed from the way we were raised. My
parents taught us at a young age the importance of service to the people and the community. The
philosophy of putting others before yourself. Living in this sort of upbringing, we all developed a
keen desire to learn from other people and to hear what they had to say. We were taught that
every single human on Earth has a voice on the inside that wants to be heard. This voice has been
with all of us our whole life and it is what makes us who we are. Whether we want to admit it or
not, we all want our voice to be recognized for something. We all want to matter. Unfortunately
as we get older, we come to realize that with the size of our world compared to what else is out
there, the majority of our voices are going to go unheard. Our life’s meaning will cease to exist
the moment we stop existing.The catch is, we understood life’s meaninglessness, an idea that
often bears negativity, to be a source of positive inspiration. If we are correct in saying that
nothing will matter in the end, why not make this limited time we have to be alive the best damn
existence we could imagine for ourselves and others? As a family, we made it our humanly duty
to let the unheard voices of the human race be heard. For us humans, all we have is each other
and we saw it as our job to unite and befriend others, not make enemies. It’s sad but we knew
very well that our actions wouldn’t make a dent or change the entire population but at least we
were doing something, right? And what better way to execute this style of living than taxi
driving? Sure, our time with our customers was limited, but in that brief amount of time together,
we discovered the power of pure and honest conversation between two human beings. Accepting
the knowledge of others. I’ll admit that we made good money in the business but the more we
worked, the more we saw that we weren’t even chasing the cash. We were chasing what every
other human is chasing; Connection. Understanding. Love.
     My brothers and I, we made it our goal every shift to become best friends with our
customers before we reached their destination. We wanted our customers to feel that what they
had to say mattered. We sought to create an environment for our customers where they could feel
comfortable speaking their minds. No topic was ever too taboo. Call it “taxi therapy,” if you
want. There were always those few customers who didn’t ever seem to realize the importance of
what we were trying to do but for the majority of them, they saw it right away along with the
significance of it. The customers that did understand, they always seemed to have this special
look of appreciation in their eyes by the time they left the cab. I spent a lot of time conversing
with these people through the rear view mirror but no matter what, when ever we reached the
customer’s destination, I would always turn around to catch a short glimpse of this certain look
of gratitude as we said our goodbyes.
     I was good at what I did. I followed the rules, I knew my way around town and I made an
honest effort to improve people’s day. And on top of that, while I was on the clock satisfying my
need for human interaction, I was also able to satisfy my craving for nicotine whenever I pleased.
I can’t even tell you how many cigarettes I smoked during an average shift but I know it was a
large amount. Deeply inhaling the warm smoke from a crisp cigarette, cruising down street with
the windows open. This was my life and these were the moments that brought me the most bliss
and contentment.
     All of that came to an end the day I met Rob.
     When you’re a taxi driver you learn to be open-minded and respectful of all the vastly
different types of people who will find their way into your cab from day to day. Every shift is
guaranteed to be a tossup of individuals from your shady and suspicious characters all the way to
your average Joe’s. At first glance, there was nothing about Rob that made him any different
from the people I normally pick up during my shifts.
     I picked up Rob on a slow night where I had just spent the last hour driving around with
no set destination, casually looking for business, enjoying the cool breeze of the night flowing in
through my rolled down window and of course, smoking my cigarette. Rob was standing on the
corner of Lexington and Cherokee Avenue holding a duffel bag and sporting the hitchhiker’s
thumb pointed straight at the sky. His body language was relaxed and mellow but his face was
written with a contradicting look of determination and urgency. He entered the car quietly and
swiftly and muttered the address of where he wanted to go to. After that, he did not say much in
reply to my attempts to conversate. Rob looked like the borderline shady looking guy who would
be buying cigarettes in front of you in line at the gas station. He had a five o’clock shadow with
the dark sunken eyes of someone who has lived a hard life and doesn’t sleep much. He wore a
thick brown Carhartt jacket, ripped, muddy jeans, work boots and smelled like smoke. The kind
of smoke I am all too familiar with.
     He was not a friendly man and I could tell he did not enjoy talking. The only thing I
could relate to with him was the unspoken love of cigarettes we both possessed. I almost thought
I heard a positive change in his voice when I offered him one of mine before we started off down
the road. It wasn’t long before we were driving down the road in silence listening to the radio
softly play one of those classic rock songs you can’t quite remember the name of.
     It didn’t take long for my opinion of Rob to change drastically.
     All it took was that infamous sounding, shiver-inducing *CLICK*
     I looked up in the rearview mirror to see an unsettling image. That image just happened
to be Rob holding a shiny snub-nose pointed straight at my rib cage. An explosion of adrenaline
started at the pit of my stomach and spread throughout my whole body. I knew I would be
sweating within minutes of this unpleasant encounter.
     “Keep driving and do not say or do anything that will make this harder than it’s already
going to be,” Rob stated firmly.
     I remained quiet, I knew better than to act out of line during this situation. It’s not worth
it.
     “I don’t have time to explain all the details about why I’m doing this,” Rob said. “Just
keep your mouth shut and listen. I’m part of a business that is currently collapsing from a chain
reaction of careless fuck-ups and the wrong people are starting to notice. I do not have much
time and I have places I need to go and tasks that need to be tended too. Okay? You might as
well go ahead and turn off your fare counter for this trip.”
     My mind was racing with plans on what to do. Every plan that made its way through my
thought process was immediately terminated by the harsh knowledge of the gun pointed at my
side. I had no option but to drive him to wherever he pleased. The funny thing that I hope to
laugh about one day is that it’s already my job to drive people where they want to go. Was there
any need for a gun?
     All jokes aside, I knew the seriousness of the situation I was in. There was a lot more to
this trip that Rob was not going to tell me about and he doesn’t have to tell me. At this point, in
that taxi cab, all I am to Rob is a tool that he needs to use to complete a task. You would never
explain to a hammer why you’re pounding a nail into a wall. You just do it, knowing that you
have all the power in the world over the inanimate tool in your possession. I’m just an object to
Rob like a hammer would be to a construction worker.
     With that, Rob commanded me to drive him out to an area in my town commonly
referred to as “The Boonies.” The Boonies is the more rural side of the town. When driving
through the Boonies you can expect a lot of winding and curvy roads that will take you through
dense forests as well as roads that will take you on a scenic drive-by of farm lands and vast
pastures. These are the kinds of roads you can dangerously speed through without any fear of
consequence other than crashing. I rarely take people out to the Boonies but when I do I always
enjoy the drive. Even in the fucked up situation I was in, at least it was a clear night and the stars
were out. If I’m going to die, I want to at least have a view.
     After about half an hour of driving, we were finally cruising down the long stretch of
road known as Route 56. Route 56 is the main road the runs all the way through the Boonies. No
matter what street you’re looking to visit in the Boonie area, I can guarantee that you’ll have to
go down 56 to get there. I still had no idea where I was going. Not much had been said on where
to drive so I was under the impression Rob would tell me where to go, step by step as we got
closer to his desired location.
     “Start slowing down, there’s going to be a hidden drive coming up on the right. Look out
for it,” Rob commanded after about ten minutes of coasting down 56.
     Sure enough, out from behind a patch of tall and bushy pine trees revealed a long uphill
gravel driveway ascending into the large population of trees next to the road. I carefully turned
into the driveway and began the uphill climb to our confidential location. As we made our way
up the hill, Rob began to fidget and move around in the backseat. This was the first time during
this whole trip where I didn’t have a lethal weapon pointed at my body. I debated taking action.
Believe me, all the pent up anxiety I had built up on my way over here was just itching to
unleash. All I wanted was to be out of this situation and I was ready to take desperate measures if
need be.
     At the end of the long hidden drive sat a small and rather cozy looking log cabin made
out of a very dark colored wood. Piss yellow lights illuminated the windows of the cabin while
smoke billowed out of the chimney in the most cliche looking way possible for a lone cabin in
the woods. This was the type of cabin ideal for the holiday season. This could’ve been your
grandma’s house. I failed to think of why exactly Rob needed to come out to a place like this.
     Rob ordered for me to stay in the car while he got out and approached the front door of
the cabin. Although I was still under Rob’s jurisdiction, having him out of the vehicle brought
me just enough relief to allow me to sit back and enjoy a much needed cigarette. I had been
eyeballing my pack of cigarettes sitting in the cup holder for about an hour at that point but I was
too scared to move. In one quick flick, I was on my way to temporary bliss. The combination of
my nerves settling and the oncoming nicotine buzz calmed me down a lot more than expected
which led my mind to start wandering off..
     Our legs were on fire but we were having way too much fun to care. We had been hiking
for hours at this point and as much as we wanted to take our time through the trail, we had a
sunset to catch. The late evening sun was still blazing through the leaves of the trees as we made
our way up the mountain. She led the way because she was determined to get to the top in time.
That’s one of the things I loved about her. She was so passionate and headstrong in the way she
lived her life. The entire way up the trail she would periodically look back and smile at me. Just
the sheer beauty of her smile and the way she looked at me was enough to encourage me to keep
pushing through the fatigue and my weakening legs.
     We reached the top of the mountain right as the sunset began. The view looked like an
artist’s masterpiece. Every sunset that passed by on that mountain top was always a slightly
different painting but still consisted of the same eye catching and enchanting nature as the one
before it. We stood in silence, appreciating the beauty of our Earth as well as the beauty of our
connection to each other. I turned to her and she turned to me giving me that sly and sexy grin
that I still can’t get out of my head to this day. The sunlight illuminated her face bringing a
whole new level of vividness to her hazel colored eyes. When the sun hits her eyes in just the
right way, mixed in with the hazel coloring, you can see a yellow sunflower surrounding her
pupil.
     “I love you so much,” I said to her.
     She looked up at me, stared into my eyes and without any hesitation she kissed me. She
kissed me hard and I swear it could’ve knocked me on my knees right there on that mountain.
The kiss seemed to last forever. I wanted it all to last forever. But at last, our lips separated and
she pulled back, facing me once more. She grinned at me again and opened her mouth to say...

     *POW! *POW! *POW!
     Floating high in the clouds of the blissful and nostalgic daydream I was in, the gunshots
coming from outside the car sucked me out of my happy place like a vacuum and then sent me
plummeting back down into the cold, hard reality I was still living in. I quickly turned my
attention to the events taking place outside my cab. I heard a disturbingly loud thud hit the
ground. Rob was sprinting towards the car and behind him, I could see, was the body of an older
man lying flat on the ground of his own front porch. A slow puddle of blood began to creep out
from under him. Three shots right through the torso delivered by Rob himself. Rob flung open
the car door and dove in the backseat.
     “DRIVE MOTHER-FUCKER!” he screamed at me. 
     I swung the car in reverse and peeled out down the gravel pathway. I sped as fast as I
could go, paying no attention to the narrowness of the road. Adrenaline was the only fluid
pumping through my veins and my heart was kicking into overdrive. I was taking deep breaths
trying to calm myself down but it was no use. Rob crossed a line. Now I was an accessory to a
murder. No matter what I will get wrapped up in this somehow. First, I was just a tool for Rob to
complete a task, now I’m a fucking piece of evidence.
     We turned back onto Route 56 and sped away from the scene of the crime. The entire
way down the driveway I aggressively pleaded Rob to tell me what was going on but all I got
were harsh words and a sudden pistol-whip, smack on the face with Rob’s gun. Blood trickled
down from my eyebrow down to the side of my mouth. I remained quiet but began plotting. My
fists were white from gripping the steering wheel tightly with blind rage. In that moment of
anger and stress I quickly devised what I needed to do. There wasn’t much time to think about
the consequences at this point. I already knew there would be too many. I’m sure there were
better ways I could’ve handled my issue with Rob but you didn’t see the things I saw that day.
You’ve never walked in my shoes. I just wanted to get away from all of this.
     I counted down in my head:
     Five: A mental timeline of memories plays out in my head. I see myself on the
playground as a child.
     Four: What will my family think?
     Three: I think of her one more time. One more good memory to bring a smile to my face,
     Two: Slow deep breaths.
     One: Everything seems to pause. Earth’s rotation, the Universe, EVERYTHING. All I can
hear is a slight ringing in my ears.
     I whipped the steering wheel hard and to the left. At fifty five miles per hour the taxicab
does a complete left turn swinging into the oncoming traffic lane, coming very close to rolling
over. At our moment of impact with the first car, the taxicab was almost perpendicular to the
oncoming traffic blazing towards us. The first car T-bones us in the very back on Rob’s side of
the car, which sends us spinning across the road. Glass shards, trash and unsmoked cigarettes
went flying all around the inside of the car. I quickly turned my head to the right after we
stopped spinning and was blinded by headlights and the sound of an oncoming car. I remained
conscious for about three more seconds before everything went black upon impact with the
second car.
     I woke up to Rob grabbing me by the shirt, ripping me out of the car and throwing me on
the ground. My head was throbbing as I laid face down in the dirt. I could hear a sizzling fire I
assumed was coming from one of the vehicles. I thought I could hear sirens approaching in the
distance. Rob wound up his foot and kicked me straight in the ribs.
     “You son of a bitch..” he muttered.
     He prepared for another kick but for some odd reason, some kind of energy that still
remained inside me after the car crash took over my body and I sprung up off the ground and
took off running through the field next to the side of the road. I ran fast and didn’t look back.
With every step I took running through that field, the hate for myself grew stronger and stronger.
Rob might’ve murdered someone but now my actions were no different. I now had lives on my
hand. My plan made sense in the taxicab but the farther I ran, the farther the reasoning behind
my actions seemed to slip from me. What’s wrong with me?
     I ran until I was completely out of view from the crash scene. It didn’t take long for me to
realize Rob wasn’t far behind, running after me. He tried to tackle me but I shook him off and
pinned him to the ground. I got in a few punches on his face and it was enough to make up for
the loss of blood Rob caused me earlier in the cab and for the kick in the ribs. I was satisfied,
Rob was stunned, so I ended my spout of violence by firmly holding Rob’s face in the ground.
The rules of this game had changed now that we’re out of the cab and I needed to make that
clear.
     “When I let you up, you aren’t going to come at me and we aren’t going to fight anymore,” I said

to him. “You and I both have equally fucked this situation we are in and we need to get out of

here now.”
     Rob slowly stood up and wiped the dirt of his jacket and pants. He remained ominously
silent until he finished cleaning up.
     “This all would’ve gone smoothly if you would’ve listened to me,” Rob sneered.
     “Shut up and follow me,” I replied back as I started jogging away.
     I can’t believe this shit,” Rob whispered and followed suit.
     We maintained a fair paced jog as made our way across the landscape of the Boonies, on
foot. We crossed many, many fields. We hiked through a lot of woods and we waded across
plenty of creeks. We covered a lot of ground in just a few hours. We decided to settle down in
the middle of the woods once the ground flattened out along slightly secluded trail we were
walking through. We sat down on the ground and remained silent. Rob and I didn’t have to
verbally acknowledge how bad the two of us could really use a cigarette. I could already feel the
onset of the dreaded withdrawal in the back of my head. We had no cigarettes and we were lost
in the Boonies.
     Staring at my hands in the pitch dark forest, the throbbing in my head was intensifying.
When I closed my eyes, all I could see were stars. My mind was racing back in forth in a mixed
up jumble of the same recurring thoughts. My erratic thought pattern was like a coked out
bouncy ball in a racquetball room:
     “NICOTINE!........CRIMINAL!....CIGARETTES!.....SUNFLOWER
EYES!....RUINED LIFE!......MARLBORO

REDS!.....SURVIVAL!...SHELTER!...TURKISH BLEND!..SHE GOT AWAY!....PALL
MALL!......

                 .........THE FLICK OF A LIGHTER!......CAMELS!!....FUCK YOU!...
                            .......THE BUZZ!.......
          PRIORITIES!....NEEDS!.....TOBACCO!....
     Tobacco,

     Tobacco,
     Tobacco,
     Tobacco,
     Tobacco,
     Tobacco.”

     I knew this was going to be a big problem. That is what scared me the most out there in
the forest that night. The problem was that every second that I go without nicotine is more time
for the idea of it to completely hijack my brain. Come morning, when my eyes open up, staring
straight at the sky, I won’t be able to think of anything else but getting nicotine into my body.
And I’m lost in the woods. I’m going to lose my mind.
     That night in the woods, neither of us slept but we did not say a word. We were both
suffering. Staring up at the night sky, I couldn’t even appreciate the beauty of infinity in the state
I was in. I felt like I was on death row but instead of awaiting death, I was awaiting insanity.
Those fleeting hours into the night were my last moments of having a clear head. Everything was
downhill from there.
     I often compare nicotine withdrawal to what I imagine being a werewolf is like. After a
disturbed hour of sleep I awoke the next morning with pure anger pulsating throughout my
whole body. The morning sun shining in my eyes made them feel like they were being stabbed
with nails. Every hair on my body felt like it was standing up which added to my dangerous
irritation. Imagine the thick, brown and unkempt hair of a burly werewolf. Metaphorically, my
werewolf claws were drawn but I had no urge for other people’s flesh, like your average
werewolf. I only had the urge to claw at my own skin. The only thing I needed to hunt for was
nicotine and I felt ravenous. I could feel the screws in my head loosening. It’s an odd case of
lycanthropy.
     I paced around the woods in circles while Rob slept.
     I obsessively picked tree bark off the trees.
     I bit all of my fingernails down to a stub.
     Sometimes the pain in my head would get so bad I would curl up in a ball on the ground
and hold my head tightly in silence. Other times, I would scream so loud, it would make the
birds in the trees disperse in different directions. It got to the point where I couldn’t stand
walking in the same circle anymore and I needed to go. I needed to keep moving. I walked over
to Rob’s sleeping body and stared at him. I stared at him until my body couldn’t handle the
feelings of hatred that was strengthening with every passing second. Why am I the one that has
to be awake and suffering through this? Rob and I both contributed to this mess and it’s only fair
that we suffer together. With that, I wound up my foot and gave Rob a powerful, swift kick in the
side, similar to the one he gave me after the car crash.
     He woke up coughing and gripping his side where I kicked him. I expected him to fight
me but I could tell he was in too much pain to even bother. He furiously cursed at me but
continued to lay there with not much movement. Pretty soon, he wasn’t even holding his side
anymore, he now was holding his head, where the real pain was.
     “Let’s go,” I said. “We need to move.”
     From that point on, Rob and I could no longer be considered human. We were survival
driven animals with migraine level headaches and aching bodies. Social norms, laws, rational
behaviour, all of that was thrown out the window with our decreasing sanity. It was Rob and I
against the world. There was no telling what kind of media attention my little act of destruction
was attracting. In this small town, word will travel fast so I knew that there had to be people
looking for us. This didn’t stop Rob and I from doing what we needed to do to stay alive. We
knew we couldn’t get food from stores or any other openly public place so we were forced to
resort back to criminal activity.
     When you’re a fugitive the last thing you want to do is commit more crimes and endanger
yourself more than you already have. Sadly, you’ll find out very fast that once you dig yourself
into that hole of being a wanted criminal, the crimes do not go away. Trespassing, theft, resisting
arrest; breaking these laws all become necessary courses of action in order to be a successful run
away from the law. And that’s what Rob and I had to do.
     For the next couple days I found myself infiltrating the homes of strangers to obtain
resources for our survival. The strategy behind our serial burglaries was to time them between
the 9-5 work hours, a time when most homes are vacant while the homeowners go out and make
a living. This time gap was more than enough time to get in and get out without having any fear
of getting caught by the homeowner. In the houses we robbed, we looked for things to eat and
drink and we even used the shower on some occasions. The only thing we failed to find in the
homes we broke into was tobacco. The one thing we cared the most about. Yeah sure, even
though we were keeping ourselves fed and quenched, we still left every home feeling angry and
dissatisfied. I couldn’t go on much longer..
     We continued this way of living for about a week. We kept it up until we could not
handle our situation any longer. Each day that passed seemed blurrier than the last. Our
behaviour became nonsensical and irrational. I knew we had finally went off the deep end when
we found ourselves digging through ashtrays, salvaging miniscule nicotine bumps out of burned
out cigarettes. It still wasn’t enough. We needed more and we needed it fast...
     Where am I now? I wish I could tell you. All that I know is Rob and I are deep into the
Boonies. A little bit too deep. This was uncharted territory I had never step foot on. There is a lot
to be concerned about when you are a fugitive in an unfamiliar area.
     Who am I kidding though? I don’t know why I’m still talking about this shit because Rob
and I pretty much stopped caring about being outlaws or getting caught awhile ago. Rob has a
plan. He has a set destination I am unaware of and I can tell by his precise movement and look of
determination. Once again, I have no clue where Rob is leading me or what he is planning but I
am desperate. Six days without nicotine will drive a man wild. Last night I cried hysterically.
Two days ago, I scratched down my entire pinky nail on a jagged edge of a rock. I have thrown
up everyday. My head still fucking hurts..
     Right now we are walking on the side of the road in a rather dense part of the Boonies.
Were walking up a slightly inclined and winding hill towards what we believe to be a clearing.
The majority of our walk so far has been pitch black minus the occasional headlights from a
passing car. For the little bit of sanity Rob and I still have left, we need to use all of it and focus
on finding smokes, chew, cigars ANYTHING to make this god awful pain in my head go away.
My lungs are starving for smoke. Less oxygen, more smoke. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
     Up ahead, looking toward the clearing, Rob and I can see shining lights. Not shining
lights coming from a car but shining lights coming from a building. Some sort of business or
store. I start imagining the image of a gas station. The perfect place for a starving nicotine-head
to indulge. Just the thought of all the different choices sitting behind the counter is making me
smile. All the different colors of tobacco cartons. All the different sizes of cigars. All the
different scents of cigarillos. A slightly orgasmic shiver ripples down my spine. My eyes want to
roll back into my head but I snap out of it.
     We are now at the very top of the hill in the clearing and before my very eyes is a sight
that takes me a few seconds to process. Upon first glance I could’ve sworn this image was a
mirage being delivered to me by my own failing and starving brain attempting to play evil tricks
on me. Shut the fuck up, I’m just being a lunatic. I know very well the image in front of my eyes
is real. Up ahead on the right side of the road is yet another log cabin. Hanging down from the
roof of the front porch is a sign that reads: THE BACKROAD TOBACCO OUTLET.
     I look at Rob to see him flashing a devilish grin in my direction. I have only known Rob
for about a week now but I knew what that grin meant and why he had been leading me to this
place. What’s really scary is that I grinned right back at him, showing him my willingness to
participate.
     So, you ask where I am now?
     Right now I am crouched down in a patch of trees, out of sight, behind the tobacco store.
We are preparing to create yet another incident that will be discussed on a news report sometime
in the near future. What we are about to do is our way of showing that we have given up. This
was us waving the white flag. Those six days Rob and I spent out in the wilderness was really a
battle between priorities. Maintaining our freedom, or tobacco? The answer is tobacco. I’m
afraid the answer will always be tobacco.
     All Rob and I are planning to do is use a little bit of intimidation to get what we need.
After all the shit we have done, the last thing we need is to hurt another person. I repeat, we are
not going to hurt anyone. 
I am wielding a small switchblade from Rob’s pocket while Rob is
wielding the same weapon he used to murder the unfortunate fellow six days ago. Through the
trees, Rob and I make are way back in front of the tobacco store and we steadily approach the
front door. Through the windows we can see a fluorescent emporium of tobacco, waiting for us.
Taunting us. We push our way through the front door, a tiny bell rings to alert the employees of
new “customers,” entering the store. We nod heads with the small man standing behind the
counter and make our way down an aisle in the store. In a brief moment of stone, sober
humanity, I felt extremely guilty for what I’m about to do. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots from
the top of my head down my spine and I am stopped in my tracks in the aisle way. While
gripping the temples of my head, I transform back into my selfish and greedy werewolf self and I
remember the real reason why I am in here. I take out the switchblade and flip it open and I look
at Rob and I give him the nod, confirming that I am ready to go. Concealed by his Carharrt
jacket, in his waistband rests his trusty snub nose. He pulls it out and holds it firmly in his hand.
     I take one last mindful breath. I follow the oxygen the second it comes in through my
nose, all the way down into my black and tarred lungs. The moment of impact is painful but no
matter how hard it hurts, it always feels good to take a moment and breathe. We could all use the
clarity, even if it’s just for a few seconds.
     I charge from behind the aisle straight to the front counter with my blade held high. Rob
charges from the opposite side of the aisle with his gun drawn. The small man, in a matter of
seconds is paralyzed with fear.
     From this man’s point of view, what is unfolding before his eyes is what he now believes
will be the end of his life. That is the only conclusion he can draw from seeing two deadly
weapons pointed straight at his face.
     He doesn’t know our true intentions.
     From this man’s point of view, he is not staring at two crazed lunatics. He isn’t staring at
two werewolves either. He is staring at the face of Death. The thing with Death is he tends to be
a sneaky little bastard. We have all heard the horror stories even though we haven’t met him
personally. He’ll show up uninvited. He’ll crash the party. Just when you think things are getting
good, Death comes knocking. You get the idea.
     In a fucked up kind of way, I guess our selfish intentions did manage to work out in favor
for the poor cashier behind the counter. Maybe I’m not that bad of a person after all,
     The man behind the counter quickly pops open the cash register, preparing himself to
empty out all of the contents. He knows the drill.
     “Shut the register!” Rob shouts. “We don’t want the money. Hurry up!”
     The man shuts the register and gives us a terrifying and puzzling look. You can tell he is
trembling and very confused. He doesn’t understand what we mean because I’m willing to bet he
has never seen anything like this before. Armed robbers who don’t want money?
     “THE FUCKING TOBACCO!” I scream at him. “ALL OF IT, I DON’T GIVE A SHIT.
WE’LL TAKE ALL WE CAN HOLD.’
     My voice has a piercing, authoritative and slightly murderous ring to it. The man behind
the counter snaps into action and frantically begins grabbing nicotine products. The front counter
sure enough, begins to pile up with cartons, lighters, cans and colorful plastic packaging. I begin
grabbing products left and right. Here I am meeting up with all of my old, longtime friends.
     Marlboro Reds, it’s great to see you again!
     Turkish Royals, how have you been? It’s been too long!
     Camel Blues, have you lost weight? You look great!
     Skoal Winter Mint? From high school?
     Standing in front of the counter, with my huge armful of tobacco, I can feel the power of
the nicotine coming through their respective packaging and teasing me with a soft vibrational
buzz that tickles its way all the way up my arm, around my neck and up to my head. Another
orgasmic shiver jolts me upright. I am so goddamn close to clarity. This will all be over soon.
    While I stand there enjoying the simple fact that I am holding the cure to all of my problems, it hits

me, and it hits me hard:
     I now have what I need!
     I have my medicine! My special remedy.
     I’ve been working towards this moment for what seems like ages and now I am here!
     I don’t need Rob anymore! He is meaningless to me now. Our partnership is forever
terminated and I am not turning back. Fuck him!
     I turn around and I sprint out the door, not once looking back at Rob. I hope to never see
him again. As I come out to the front porch of the tobacco outlet, I get a running leap and clear
the five set of stairs leading to the porch. I land gracefully, managing not to drop a single carton
of cigarettes and I begin my sprint up the road away from our newly formed crime scene. Don’t
get me wrong, my head is still throbbing with pain that makes it hard for me to see clearly but
just the pure, satisfying knowledge of the tobacco nestled in the safety of my starving hands
gives me a strange boost of energy that keeps me moving despite the pain. As bad as I want to
light up a crisp cancer stick right now, I need to wait. I want this moment of smoking my first,
long awaited cigarette to be perfect.
     I trek down the road, around a small bend until I am completely out of site of the tobacco
outlet. There’s no telling how long I have until the police make their way out here. I make the
decision take my escape offroad. I make my way into the darkness of the trees and I start
running. I do my best to hop over the fallen trees and stumps and I’m not going to lie and say I
didn’t fall along the way. I lost some friends during a couple of my wipeouts but that’s okay. I
wasn’t a huge fan of L&M's anyway. Okay, maybe I am but I don’t have time to fret about it.
     By some lucky chance in the darkness of the woods I find myself running on a trail that
seemed to form out of nowhere. I guess you could say I could use a little bit of guidance at this
point. Now that I have the trail leading me in some sort of direction, I start to increase my
running speed to the point where I am in a dead sprint. I look down at my body as I run and for
the first time in awhile I feel strong and alive again. Everything is going to okay now.
My heart is pounding furiously and the years I have spent blackening my lungs with one
cigarette at a time is beginning to slow me down but I manage to push through all the way to a
clearing in the trees that the trail was so kind enough to lead me to. I drop my pile of stolen
goods and hold myself up against a tree to catch my breath.
     The trail that I followed through the woods led me to a wide open field where I can see
more trees in the distance up ahead but behind those same trees, I can also see lights coming
from the buildings of an unknown city. The night sky is clear, giving me a picture perfect view
of the stars scattered all around above me. The lonely moon is full enough to dimly light the field
in front of me. At last, it is all over now.
     With a fresh pack of classic Marlboro Reds and a brand new black Bic lighter I picked up
from my stolen collection, I walk out into the middle of the pasture and take a seat under the
moonlight, resting my arms over my knees. I hold up the pack in front of me, rotating it and
admiring everything about it. The shiny cellophane, the perfect geometry of the carton, the
defining logo on the front, the always-ignored surgeon general’s warning,
everything. I slowly begin to unwrap the cellophane covering the pack, feeling the same kind of

excitement one would feel opening a present on Christmas morning. My hands are even shaking

but there’s no telling if they are shaking from excitement or just another withdrawal symptom. I pop

open the top and pull out the first cigarette. I spin it and twirl it around in my hands. Sweet, cylindrical
perfection.
     I hold the cigarette under my nose to smell and just the aroma takes away a little bit of
the pain from my six-day long headache. I close my eyes and take one last big breath of clean
oxygen. My lungs probably benefited from my six day cigarette hiatus but all good things have
to come to an end, right?
     I place the cigarette in my mouth, holding it firmly with my lips. Our first kiss after being
away from each other for way too long. I begin to flick the lighter. I am so close. The soft breeze
of the night makes it difficult to maintain a constant flame but after a few clicks, I succeed. I
stare down at my illuminated hands, watching every second pass by that leads up to the moment
of contact between the flame of my lighter and the end of my cigarette. In that short amount of
time, I am already inhaling, waiting for the oxygen entering my lungs to turn into sweet tasting,
carcinogenic smoke. Like the sun that sits miles and miles away in space crackling, burning and
shining, the ember at the end my cigarette glows bright with my inhale and at last, I feel the first
batch of smoke enter my lungs. The smoke is painful and harsh but I love it so much. The smoke
continues to fill my lungs, puff after puff and I can feel the long awaited buzz creeping up on me
fast. Inside and out, my body feels pleasantly warm. With no hesitation, I slowly lie down on my
back in the middle of the field. The grass is cold and wet with dew but I don’t care. I don’t care
about anything anymore. With the help of my beloved cigarette, I finally reach the peace of mind
I have been chasing for so, so long.
     People always ask me why I love cigarettes so much and sometimes even I am not too
sure why I do. The simple answer is nicotine but I think there’s more to it. Besides the chemical
dependency, I think what I am really chasing is the calm, contentment smoking a cigarette brings
me. I have been many places in my life. I’ve seen things that make me smile and I’ve seen things
that make me cry. I have been in love and I have had my heart broken as well. What I am trying
to say here is no matter where I find myself in life, I can always count on my cigarettes to remind
me that everything is going to be okay in the end. I don’t smoke cigarettes to escape my reality, I
smoke cigarettes to accept my reality. By the time my cigarette is burned down to the filter, my
problems I had before lighting the cigarette are no longer issues. Now, they are just another
aspect to this crazy life I live. Nowadays we only seem to focus on the good things that happen
in our life but the bad things carry just as much meaning. Everything that happens, good or bad,
is simply just more content for your life story. At the end of every cigarette I smoke, with this in
mind, I live out the rest of my day with a strong grasp on what life throws at me and I almost feel
invincible. I tend to handle things better, I don’t get angry and I’m optimistic. Don’t get me
wrong, I would love more than anything to feel this way without the help of cigarettes but I can’t
do it. Just look at where I am now.
     My first cigarette after those dreadful six days is just about to burn down to the filter. Far
in the distance, I can faintly hear the familiar sound of police sirens headed toward the scene of
my crime. I am in a lot of trouble and my future does not look bright but here I am standing in
the middle of this field, under the moonlight, with the biggest smile on my face. I flick the rest of
my cigarette, I walk back to my pile of stolen goods and I pocket as much merchandise as I can.
Everything else, I leave on the ground.
     With my pockets full of assorted tobacco packages, I set off through the field in the
direction of the unknown city. There’s no telling where I’ll go from here and it isn’t going to be
easy, that’s for sure. I have everything I need though and all I can do is take this one step at a
time. I pull out another cigarette. This is always step one.