Thursday, 8 March 2012

A Tale Of Two Ciggies



The story of Garette.

He was carelessly traded by his smoker to another, on a whim. His new smoker nestled him in her green cage containing others that had not yet fulfilled their purpose. They all seemed to get on well, although these new ‘friends’ had a peculiar smell, he was just happy of the company. They laughed and joked about the Great Fire and placed bets on who would be next expended. It wasn’t long before the smoker selected the next candidate. As the cage opened, they saw for the first time how different they were to each other. Garette gasped at the uniformed rows of tall soldiers, much taller than he. They all wore white helmets adorned with a mint green slogan. He wore a brown helmet with a red slogan. Before he could think further than this, he realised they had seen how different he was too. They began mocking and heckling him. Even as their numbers dwindled, he still bore the brunt of their abuse and made a pact to himself.

'I swear to the Great Fire, when I am selected, I will not perform my duty to the best of my ability but instead I shall spark and spit and burn you all to the ground. None shall fulfil his expectancy. I shall show you all.'

He had fully expected to be picked last as he was sure the smoker was as prejudiced as the caged soldiers. To his surprise, there were at least four cadets eagerly awaiting their fate when he was elected. True to his word, he spat and sparked so much that he witnessed the birth of a small rutilant flicker that grew and grew; consuming the smoker and eventually engulfing the green cage where he had been vilified so much. Moments before his cessation , he looked around him with gratification. He had done all he’d said. He had proudly murdered them all.

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