Fags (sorry I suffer from a lack of an appropriate title)

Well, sometime ago, I tossed my last fag into the ashcan....then all of a sudden my hair started falling out when ever i brushed it back with my fingers...it came out in clumps......Then my mood started changing....from being the nice sexy guy that I am, I became some one I would personally love to shoot if I looked at me wrong....then I started howling at the moon....changing and changing whenver the darkness fell to the land.....

Next thing I knew I went on the hunt...I searched every left over pack or bag, for even the slightest trickle of tobacco....I looked in the ashcan in my car and found it clean...not even a flake of ash....I looked under the car in the mud, i looked in my desk I looked even in the boot of my car...and the in my ould dirty socks....

Then, came the screams...at first they started as a whisper....and then they grew to a grumble....then to a growl....then to a yelll...and then to a roar so bloody loud, clung together in fear as they walked down the aisles of the local Walmart 3 miles away....

So my parents had me chained up, and muzzled....they would only let me loose so I could go to work....and then as soon as I got homed, they would shackle me to my desk, feeding me intravenously....for they did not dare to remove the muzzle....they learned the hard way about the sharpness of my teeth....I must admit though...looking back it seems that the time I spent muzzled was the happiest I had ever seen my family....

Eventually, I got better....and with heavy hearts they removed the chains and the muzzle....but even now, when the moon is just right behind the rain dampened clouds...I feel the change coming once more.....