Eat This Cigarette Butt

I had never seen someone eat a cigarette butt before. Much less on a Sunday, in a park, surrounded by nothing except bottle caps and nameless bugs.

“Why am I eating this again?” She asked.

“It’ll impress me.”

Without another hesitation the butt disappeared.

There wasn’t much I could do. She had raised the stakes and I had a gag reflex. I went into a mental spasm, pregnant with anxiety that she may walk away from this deserted park, leaving me alone in the night.

Insert a stick somewhere I shouldn’t? Is foreskin or butt hole more disgusting? Butt hole. But then I could make a joke about her only swallowing a butt whereas I had filled one with something. Something!? A stick. Too sharp. What about a cigarette butt? Too obvious. Too clichéd. How is sticking a cigarette butt up your ass in response to a random girl swallowing a cigarette butt clichéd!? Pull yourself together. OK.

There wasn’t much I could do except pour a beer on her head and try to decipher what her breath would smell like now.

“I bet your breath is going to stink,” I loosely commented and immediately regretted.

We hadn’t even kissed, though I had seen a hint of breast as she’d bent in half to collect a 6-pack from the bottom shelf of the cool room. I wasn’t even a breast man.

“I don’t care if my breath smells, do you?” I did, and I believed she didn’t.

“No, of course not, it’s not as if…”

With that, the girl I’d met only two hours earlier leant over and… well, you’ve all seen The Notebook. Fill in the gaps. TC mark

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  • Rob


  • Tom Smith

    I haven’t seen The Notebook. What happened next?

    • Guesty

      Seriously, don’t leave me hanging, did you kiss in the rain?  I know they kiss in the rain at some point in that movie.

  • Scytle

    I am going to imagine this as one of those stories where the protagonist has somehow found him/her self in a situation where they feel at once in control and completely lost to the power of the situation.  As if life is rushing past you at such a clip that your only hope of survival is to hold on to the first thing that flies past.

    Filling in (some of) the gaps:

    She was dressed in a skin tight leather dress and corset.  Her long jet black hair held back over one shoulder in a small ring made from the leg bone of a cow.  A small blue bird made of PVC stitched onto her left breast.  Small metal cuffs held both her wrists at her side connected to her corset with tiny metal rings. 

    He had wandered in to escape the rain,  it was that time of year in Melbourne.  One minute it would be beautiful and sunny, the next a dark sky would unleash its fury in a pelting driving rain that would make the air smell like dirt and electricity.

    He hardly noticed the leather parade as he elbowed a man with exposed nipples out of the way to find a spot at the bar.  His mind too preoccupied to wonder why these people were dressed like this on a Sunday.  Had that bitch really left him on the side of the road?!  He wouldn’t get her pregnant, and it would seem that was going to be the end of another relationship.  He hadn’t even had a chance to tell her he had been fired today.  Maybe it was best that he was stuck in a bar with a bunch of freaks on the wrong side of town.

    “whiskey, and leave the bottle.”  He knew the cure for this problem.

    She saw him walk in, drenched, wearing an overcoat and a hat like some character from a 1950’s movie.  She was attracted to his broad shoulders and strong looking hands.  Hands that could be persuaded to hurt her, to hold her down, to make her feel out of control, to give her that release.

    It was a simple matter of bumping into him while he raised his drink to his lips.  She could only apologize, her hands held helpless at her side.  She wiggled and writhed in her attempts at supplication, an act that did not go unnoticed by him.

    It was clear he was pretty drunk, and after a short chat she knew he was  in the right kind of mood. 

    “Would you like to get out of here?  I know a nice park we could go to.”

    • Lo


      • kaylee

        is this i don’t even

  • Michael Koh

    I don’t understand. 
    Is it like: “Life is like a cigarette, smoke it to the butt,” but “Eat it too, you might as well.”

  • Samie Rose

    I liked the way this was written, but what was written has me going, “meh.”

  • Stefan

    Is a “cool room” like a walk-in refrigerator? Also, what was the beer being poured on her head thing?

  • Anonymous

  • Julian Galette

    I’ve seen someone drink a beer bottle full of dip spit.

    I win. 

  • NoSexCity

    I dig it.

  • goldglass

    Saw a squirrel eat a cigarette butt once.

  • Bridget

    potentially one of the dumbest pieces ever published here.

    • Anonymous

      i can’t tell if i wholeheartedly agree or vehemently disagree with your statement.

  • Bridget

    potentially one of the dumbest pieces ever published here.

  • Jrein93

    Wait sorry…what?

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