"He bellowed, 'Who are we?' We all waited for the answer. Then he whispered, 'We are our stories.' "

Monday, May 19, 2008

The Marlboro Man

Chip and Donna down the street were having a garage sale and I picked up a box with maybe a dozen old cigarette lighters. They were simplifying and purging their lives of all things relating to tobacco so their son Mojo will not consider it as an option. Tools to die by:

It's scary to think about how many coffin nails this hammer has driven. The round bottom indicates that it was manufactured prior to 1945. I'd like to imagine it new; maybe in a foxhole, lighting Pall Malls from the C-ration 4-packs. Safer than bullets I guess. Still works like new.

I don't have any fuel or flints for these. My father was the Marlboro man. Before my Old Man went into real estate he was a farmer. He used to fill his Zippo by clamping it with a Vise-Grip and holding it down in the tractor gas tank. Hell, I've become so disconnected with the real world, I don't even own a Vise-Grip...or a tractor. But I still got me a pickup.


reverend dick said...

G- I prefer to drive my nails the way Floyd Tillman did...with bottles of booze.

Gunnar Berg said...

Yeah. Bizarre phrasing. "I love you...so MUCH...it HURTS me". "Slipping Around" is probaly my favorite. Wait! "This Cold Cold War With You". God, I'd almost forgotten old Floyd. Thanks.

Gunnar Berg said...

No Brother, I was wrong. It was "...SO much..." Accent where you'd least expect it.