I had reached quit-month three, it had not been much fun,
but it seemed somewhat better than back in week one.
I'd abandoned my evil twin back in Slip City,
I thought my quit status was now sitting pretty.
So I left on a road trip to most points southwest
to put my quit up for a rigorous test.
I passed out of New England, and crossed a big river,
I made it past Scranton with hardly a shiver.
I gassed up across Mason-Dixon's old line,
saw hump juniors on sale for just one eighty-nine!
But I stuck to my guns. It would not be much fun
to destroy my whole quit by just smoking just one.
So on to the motel in Maryland I zoomed
where I smugly rented a nonsmoking room.
I sat there in my skivvies, bare feet on the table,
as I flipped through the great stuff they send us on cable.
"I'm so lonely and bored, and I've driven so far"
I complained, as I got my stuff in from the car.
I swung the door closed, and I heard a faint yell,
wafting from the convenience store near the motel:
"we're just one eighty-nine, and we'll taste mighty fine!"
The nicotine sirens had started to whine.
"I'll ignore them and put myself straight into bed,"
I told myself, "I know itís just in my head."
But the whining continued well into the night.
I covered my ears and I closed my eyes tight.
I awoke the next morning with such a bad crave,
I could think of no more than the dollar I'd save.
All the tumors might turn out to be quite benign,
and I could smoke humps for a buck eighty-nine!
Then I thought to myself "I sound just like a junky."
I thought a bit more and I got out my trunk key
In the trunk was the reason, my own next of kin,
In the trunk was old Winston, my own evil twin.
"It's about time you found me," he said with a smile
"I knew you'd been craving some smokes quite a while."
"So where are we going today?" Asked the twit,
a stow-away threatening to disrupt my quit.
"You cannot come along, I do not want you near,"
I told Winston, and saw he was shedding a tear.
"But we've been such good friends" he said, sniffling a little
"how bout if I smoke while you munch on your Skittles?"
"Oh, all right," I relented, sensing a fall.
"Unlike our old times, I won't tempt you at all,"
said my evil twin Winston while lighting a smoke
and he blew a cloud at me that near made me choke
"You behave," I admonished, a lump in my stomach,
"or I'll throw you right into the muddy Potomac."
As I drove to my field sites, old Winston rode shotgun.
It was so hot and sweaty with thorns that were not fun.
He never helped out, he just sat in the car
While I stumbled up hillsides through woods near and far.
Poison ivy, mosquitoes, big ticks and small chiggers,
The hardships of field work, my worst smoking triggers.
I was done for the day, the sun starting to set
We had just time to get out to Morgantown yet.
So we skipped eating burgers in East West Virginia
And headed up into the mountains for dinner.
As I drove I heard ominous weather predictions
That tornadoes would come in our very direction.
The sky turned a sickly and pale shade of green,
It was one of the scarier sights I have seen.
Radio said "pull over do not hesitate"
So we drove into Flintstone, off I-68.
There was no sign of Barney, and no sign of Fred,
But I soon would be wishing that I was just dead.
Stores were closed except Billy Bob's smokes and bait shop.
We went in there as hail really started to drop.
Billy Bob and some locals were hanging around
Saying funnel clouds touched down just west of that town.
Rain came gushing straight down and then straight to the side
I was wondering if we'd saved our very backsides.
Winston said to me "look, now it's just local blokes,
No one cares if you purchase a pack of some smokes.
You could smoke them right here, and you'd feel a lot better,
It's the best way to keep your mind off of the weather."
I thought back to the last two months, working so hard
At combating the habit, inch by inch, yard by yard.
"It really won't count, cause you're caught near some twisters"
said my evil twin Winston, no lover of quitsters.
"Besides that, we're bored, you're surrounded by smokers,
you might just as well join with the rest of these jokers."
Winston knew my worst weakness, that's what he does well.
All my best intents were slipping straight into hell.
As pitchforks and hammer handles fell from aloft,
I approached Billy Bob, asked for Hump Juniors, soft.
He handed them over, I quickly unwrapped them
Not knowing how badly I'd soon feel like crap then.
Winston said "don't you worry, just smoke all you want to"
And I pondered 'bout hell, where my quit had just gone to.
Soon I wondered just how I had gotten so hooked
On such foul-tasting stuff; I quite nearly puked.
The second one tasted a little bit better,
As my heart started up its old-time pitter-patter.
The third made my brain buzz, a hive of bad bees,
And I asked my pal Winston "got another light, please?"
We smoked and we smoked and we smoked til I choked
And I thought my quit status would sure be revoked
Tobacco's a laxative, made me quite queasy,
"How on earth did I start? This could not have been easy,"
I thought, as I jumped in my car, off I sailed
Leaving Winston to hitch his way home in the hail.
He's been back many times since that perilous trip
When I see him, I hide out of fear that I'll slip
He comes by much less often in month number nine,
So I think that my quit will continue just fine.
As long as I see him before he sees me,
I will stay here in Quitsville, hunkered down but smoke-free.