A good cigar, a sunny evening. Dog gone it, I think I left my matches in my other tux. I'll check.
Not there. A nice stogie, and I have nothing to light it with.
Wait. Here comes a gentleman. Perhaps he will help me. I hope he will not notice that I am beginning to drool. I am not ordinarily a drooly person, but this is a meaty cigar.
Excuse me! I hate to bother you, but...
would you be able to give a light to an American gentleman?
I just so happen to have my lighter with me. Happy to oblige.
Ahhhh. At last. Puparillo Supreme. Finest Cuban. Puff, puff, puff.
A little bit harsh, I must say. My humidor must be malfunctioning. Ack! Gack! Don't worry, Mether. It is only kennel cough.
The afterglow lasts. Anyone for tennis?
It is a good life I lead.Thanks to Bill of the Birds for the light (for Chet's stogie and the inspiration for this post)






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