My roommate and I, both guilty/moderate/sporadic smokers, have a tendency to enable each other
(he addresses me from the living room on a cheerleader’s bullhorn, speaking in the deep, Southern drawl of a Delta bluesman)
Him: “Hey buddy… when was you thinkin’ bout goin’ ta have a smoke?”
Me: “Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”
Him: “I gotsta ponder a paper. Ain’t nuthin’ put me in a ponderin’ mood like a little cancer.”
