Stink Stank

Stink Stank

A Story by Kristin Brecoe
"

Cigarette smoke is a pet peeve. It's also a killer. A huge annoyance. I wish my writings about people dying of lung cancer makes a difference to someone!!!

"

My gag reflexes tease my throat. The stench of smoke still lingers in my deep brown hair. I seriously don't know how I managed to live a week at my uncle's place. Every inch of the freaking house reeks of the eye-watering, throat-scratching smoke stink. (Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating...but then again...I didn't bother checking every square inch. If I did, I surely would've died.)


 

It's completely not understandable that my uncle smokes in his house, as my other uncle and friends do as well. I can't even begin to express how I feel about this. There's the minor annoyance- well in the case of how I was to spend a week in his house, a major annoyance because I breathed it in constantly- the air around me. Then, there are the problems like either the smokers dying of their own filth, or second-hand smokers falling ill. That latter, it's already happened., and you know what...


 

He died. My grandpa died. He died of lung cancer. Died. Died. Died! Honestly now, you would think they'd learn. You think they'd listen to their mother to stop. You think they'd rather not risk her health because of what just recently happened. That took a huge toll on all of us. Why do something that would egg the situation to come back around?


 

Anyway, my hair... My hair stinks, reeks, and ranks. (Okay, so rank is an adjective, not a verb, but you get it.) I know that's redundant, but do you realize how uncomfortable it is to leave me hair down. I've had to keep it up all day because I didn't want to smell my hair. I've been home all day. You know, in the house I usually live in, not that stanky place. I've been home since about 8 last night. Before then, we were on a 12 hour ride home. Made several stops in the fresh air and fast food joints. Seriously now, how could I smell it still! I let my hair down yesterday, so I could be comfortable in the car.


 

(I think I'm rambling, but I don't care. You probably do though, thinking I'm wasting your time. Maybe I should continue with what I planned on.)


 

As I was saying before that little tangent of mine, my hair... I finally got so fed up with the way it smelt, I surrendered to a shower while I had other plans (like finish up Breaking Dawn!). Hopping into the shower, I turned the water to the warmest hot temperature I could tolerate, and went for the shampoo. It's Dove, a nice subtle smelling one, by the way. I washed my hair once, and was just about to go for the body wash when wet wisps of hair fell around my face. The sharp odor still remained! I sighed, and reached for the shampoo once more. Long story short, I could've washed my hair all night, even until it all fell out, and it would still reek of cigarettes.

© 2008 Kristin Brecoe


Author's Note

Kristin Brecoe
Rip it apart. =]

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Reviews

I love it, dear. I know exactly how you feel. At my school, the main girls' bathroom is like a smoke trap. You walk in there once, long enough to see that all the stalls are full and decide to just head on to class so you can wait until locker break is over and ask your teacher to go, and you smell like you've been in a casino for four hours. It's horrible. I once loaned my favorite stuffed animal (it was a monkey named Spider... haha) to my sister's best friend (whose parents smoked) to take on a church trip with her because she was talking about how she didn't have a teddy bear to bring with her. Needless to say, there was NO smoking at all on that trip, but when I got it back, it smelled like an ashtray! ugh. Oh, i just got an idea I don't want anyone to steal... I'll write you a message! :) But I liked this piece very much. There were a few typos, but I'm sure you could find them if you looked. Very nice piece. I can relate. Just so it's clearer for the reader, though, your grandpa wasn't a smoker, right? He lived in your uncle's house? I think that's what you were getting at, but I'm not certain... And your grandpa's wife doesn't smoke either but she still lives there? Anyway, I LOVED IT, and I'll be writing you shortly. :P
KH

Posted 15 Years Ago



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Added on August 18, 2008

Author

Kristin Brecoe
Kristin Brecoe

teach me how to love, but not the way most dream of.



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A Poem by Kristin Brecoe