Snow White and Teen Wolf

I stumbled across the room towards the open door, my stilettos sliding on the hay strewn across the warehouse floor. Tripping over the cement step, I walked outside. I leaned against the wall and let the cool October wind dry the sweat off my body.

Closing my eyes, I felt the thump of the bass through the metal walls. My black hat tilted, my hair frizzed from the heat and press of the dance floor.

I opened my eyes and took a swig of water from the bottle in my hand. The Witch's Brew had tasted sweet and smooth, but I had enough sense left to wonder what was in it. My brain was fuzzy, my mouth numb. I couldn't feel my feet.

I searched the patio for Snow White, finally finding her sitting with Teen Wolf and Batman. I walked unsteadily towards her, plopping on a chair and tuning into the conversation.

UFO's.

Leaning forward, I listened as Teen Wolf passionately discussed the feasibility of UFO's. Watching the trio speak, their fingers lazily dangling lit cigarettes, the smoke curling to the heavens, I felt an urge to join them.

I had the crystal clear thought that I'd never done anything so "bad" as smoke a cigarette. And, quite suddenly, I wanted to be a little bit bad. I wanted to join them in their flirtation with death.

The conversation turned to Zombies.

Leaning forward, I asked Teen Wolf, "Can I have one?"

Snow White spun towards me, "You don't smoke!"

"I thought I'd try one."

She stared at me in disbelief, her face annoyingly sober in spite of an equal number of drinks. Leaning back in my chair, I struck a sophisticated pose. "Why not? I'm going to be thirty next year."

Teen Wolf handed me a cigarette and a lighter. Holding one in my right hand, I stared at the other.

"You're holding it like a joint."

"Oh." I adjusted my fingers, mirroring Batman. I put the cigarette to my lips, tasting the dry paper and cotton of the filter. I put the lighter to the end and flicked it.

Nothing happened.

Snow White took it from me and, with a practiced puff, lit the cigarette. She handed it back to me, the glowing ember daring me to taste.

I put it to my lips, holding it for a moment.

Breath in. I told myself. I sat frozen, lung cancer statistics flashing in my rum soaked brain. The smoke curled and twisted as I held it in my hands. Pictures of emphysema patients played like a silent film.

Finally, I put it down. "I don't think this is for me," I said, disappointed at my inability to rebel, even in my sodden state.

Snow White patted my shoulder. "You're better off without it."

I leaned my head back and watched the stars whirl above me while the conversation turned back to UFO's.

This post was inspired by The Red Dress Club RemembeRED prompt showing a picture of a smoking cigarette. I've never been a fan of smoking. This was the one time I was tempted.

As always, concrit is welcome.

Also, I'm over at Makes Fun today writing about LeapFrog. The computerized reader, not the game.