Cigarettes are Papa's best friends

I cannot help but think of my father after the preceding post.  And his killers.

Cigarettes were Papa's best friends from his youth until he died.  And his killers, too.  No, not the cigars.   They're the cigarettes.  Those finely cut tobacco in rolls, smaller than cigars and wrapped in thin paper and not with tobacco leaves.  They are called Champion.  Actually, they are many.  There's the Marlboro.  There's the Philip Morris.  There's the Winston. And a lot more.  They are all killers.

They make one an addict and dependent to the core.  Habitués have this overpowering compulsion to use these killers.  It would be a challenge to break the addiction.  Especially when Papa got acquainted with them when he was only 14 years old.  He died 61, stopped only about two years using them.  That's 45 years of addiction.

I am thankful I did not become an addict and was able to break off from the bait.  I could have been a walking dead, too, rotten with the deadly and chronic emphysema, or other lung ailments, or a lung cancer.

My poor Papa.  His best friends were all he have during those down times, I know.  And his buddies during relaxation and freedom from life's worries.  I know he knew that the the day will come they're going to make him pay.  And they made him pay with bad ramification.

*Image from Your Detox Store Blog.