Post 'em here. See this thread for the rules: http://www.cigarsmokers.com/t10786-h...g-contest.html
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Post 'em here. See this thread for the rules: http://www.cigarsmokers.com/t10786-h...g-contest.html
Twas the night before Christmas when all through the place,
A light cloud of smoke encircled my face.
The stocking were hung but they remained bare,
Because Santa Claus had not yet been there.
The children were asleep in their nice warm beds
While visions on stogies raced through my head.
The wife was wrapping presents, my heart gave a flutter
I was hoping some smokes were in all the clutter.
The UPS man pulled up, his brakes made a squeak,
I got so excited, I jumped to my feet.
I swung open the door all hot an bothered,
And to my surprise there stood Ashauler!
He came in the room and made not a peep,
But went straight to work while the children were asleep.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a faded bandana,
While filling my stocking with a bundle of Habana.
He had some games for the kids made by Mattel,
And for me in the mix, was a box of Patels.
And then before he started to tire,
He gave me the best, a God Of Fire.
He left as he came, smelling like Maduros
And rode away with his pack of wild burros...
Since my husband Dustin has no writing capabilities, I thought I would share my Christmas poem for all of you. Of course, if I win, Dustin will get the gift, unless of course, chocolates can be substitited for cigars. Enjoy, and Happy Holidays! :smiley14:
HO HO HO, a contest surrounding my favorite holiday!! Lets see what you people got!!!!
And just so you know:
I've made my list
I've checked it twice
I already know whose naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to Town.
I've seen you when you were sleeping
I've seen you wide awake
I've seen you smoke those Coheebos
And deny that they were fake
So
You better watch out
you better not trade
those fake coheebos
or hell will be paid
Santa Claus is coming to Town.
Twas the night before Christmas...
Just kidding. Thanks for keeping this going, Jamie.:smiley20: I will be switching from poetry this year and try a short story format instead:
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December 14, 2008
Grandfather's Pipe
Ah, family Christmas night at the in-laws. I swear I can feel a serious cold coming on. Wait.. ..nevermind. I can't use that old excuse again. Why do I dread this night so? Maybe it is because I am selfish and would rather be a Sunday couch potato, watching football with my feet up and trusty bag of salt & vinegar chips nestled between me and the dog. Maybe, I don't want to painfully paint on a smile and listen to the same bad jokes watching everyone slowly get plastered on the spirits of the season. Maybe, just maybe, this is because I loathe hanging Christmas lights on a 9 ft tree in a muggy house with the thermostat set at 84 degrees. Maybe (and I really think I am on to something here), I don't want to hear Alabama's: "Thistle Hair the Christmas Bear" 20 fuggin' times. Maybe...
Get over it James! You are going and should make the best of it. After all, the food is good. You love prime rib roast and Yorkshire pudding. If the situation gets too awkward or unbearable, you can always slip out to the cold deck for a nice cigar. YES! That is what I always do after all. Things are looking up. Now what to smoke?
I fumble through the containers knowing I need a good cigar to keep myself occupied during this yearly evening of holiday bliss. An Anejo #77 catches my eye. So does a Davidoff Millenium. Is that an aged PSD4 I see hidden in the corner? Before moving to the next bin, I decide it would be best to stop right there and just decide between the first three. This could get crazy fast. You know that feeling when choice becomes a task? Immediately, a song starts going through my mind. X's: See How we Are starts uttering from my lips as I try to pick that one special cigar for tonight:
Now there are seven kinds of Coke
500 kinds of cigarettes
This freedom of choice in the USA drives everybody crazy
Hmmm- eanie, meanie, miney, mo. Arghhh, I absolutely can't decide. With a few hours left before departure, I decide to go check the forums and grab a bite to eat while putting my very important decision on pause. It was a nice break to have the pressure off for a minute. Above my PC on the desk is a shelf littered with photos. These are all special photos of me smoking with friends and family. There is a nice shot of me and my best man chomping on some generic Churchills, smiling proudly in a courtyard moments after I was married. There is one with me and Pops looking oh so cool enjoying a couple ERDMs on a nice Summer afternoon. Hey, there is my friend Jake playing pool under a King Edwards Cigar sign. I wonder what that insane bastid is up to these days? Then I browse over my favorite picture. It is one of those old grainy photographs that were developed on the squared 3 1/2" x 3 1/2" Kodak paper with a date stamp on the side. This one reads: Mar . 71. A vibrant woman in a yellow leather upholstered chair is holding a pale white infant with a pipe in his mouth. This is me at one month old with my beloved Grandmother. I recieved this photo back in 2000 when my Grandmother passed away. Along with it, I received some items that belonged to my Grandfather including a basket of pipes. These were pipes from his years in the military and most originate from the places he was stationed such as Korea, Germany and Holland. I restored a couple of the pipes several years ago and tucked them away in a cabinet.
Gramps was special to me. I was named after him. I do not have many memories of James, but the biggest was when he passed away when I was 5. This was my first real experience understanding that people die and when they do, they do not come back. I was his little buddy. He never held his own children when they were little, but he held me any time he could.
Back to the present and I am really fixated on this photo of Grandmother, little me, and the pipe. For some reason, I really focus in on the pipe for the first time since owning this picture. It is an oddly shallow Bulldog shaped piece. I instantly remember this pipe and know it is near. Opening the cabinet, I see it sitting on the middle rack calling out to me. I grab it carefully and go back to the picture. Yes, I am certain this is the same pipe! My recent dilemma of picking out a cigar becomes a non-factor because I immediately begin to interpret this moment as a sign that I need to smoke this pipe; not a cigar tonight.
Fast forward about 5 hours...
Yep, the evening is just as expected. I am sweating from the heat, suffered a steady dose of "Thistle Hair", and laughed at a few bad jokes; all among other mishaps and interesting moments. Dinner was fabulous as usual and after a second helping, my stomach felt very heavy. Although the house is a living furnace inside, I hesitate to move outside for a smoke due to the 12 degree weather. What to do? I worked up some courage and asked my Sister-in-Law if I could smoke in the house. Don't ask me why, but she calls the shots up there. She answered my question with a nasty glare. "It's just a l-l-lit-little pipe", I stuttered- somewhat intimidated by her glance. She paused, rolled her eyes and said- "yes, only if you smoke in the dining room with the window open". SCORE!!!
I quickly retrieved my leather tobacco pouch, a cup of hot coffee, and an old magazine and scurried into the dining room. There were still a few tid-bits of food on the table and wrapping paper from the night's ornaments lying about. Other than this minor clutter, I had the room to myself. I pulled the pipe out of the pouch and admired it for a minute. Then back to the pouch, I removed two small baggies I had packed inside. The selection process for pipe tobacco was not even close to as overwhelming as picking between several cigars. I knew I wanted something smooth and seasonal. This left me with two choices- Boswell's Christmas Cookie or McClelland's Christmas Cheer from 2007. I decided on the Boswell blend and proceeded to go into the ritual of packing the bowl using a three-step method that has never failed me. This method was shared with me by Newfie (Jim on CSmokers) and is a therapeutic activity in just loading. Christmas Cookie is a mild blend with a fantastic aroma. I desired a tad more strength and flavor so while packing, I opened the second baggie and dumped a small brick of tobacco on the magazine. This is HdM pipe tobacco from a little island not far from Florida. By itself, this would be too strong for most people to smoke. My logic was that it would be a nice strong addition to balance out the mild Christmas blend. I cut a small plug from the brick and rubbed some of it out into much smaller flakes. In between layers of the Boswell blend and on top, I sprinkled some of this foreign tobacco.
A few minutes later and I find myself thoroughly enjoying this smoke. At some point or another, practically everyone including my Sister-in-Law walked by the dining room ranting and raving about the wonderful aroma. I am happy and content. As I smoke longer and sip on the coffee, I start to focus on the setting around me. I see family conversing and laughing. I admire my wife from afar as she hangs one of her favorite ornaments. I see my youngest son dancing around the boxes of decorations with his Grandmother. She had the same look in her eyes gazing down at Zane as my Grandmother did when looking down at me in that picture I admired earlier in the afternoon.
Right away my thoughts shifted away from my current scenery to a super retroactive state. I started remembering childhood happenings from the holidays that had been buried away for at least 20 years. I fondly recalled Grandmother’s ceramic cookie jar she kept on a large hutch. It had all of the Grandchildren’s names painted on a list Santa was reviewing. I always felt special because my name was at the top. I remembered the cold half-hour long hikes up the old mining pit in Willard. All of that labor for the 20 second reward of flying back down into the pit, 4-5 kids crammed onto a wooden toboggan. With warmth coming off the bowl cradled in my hands, I conjured up memories of the elaborate snow forts we built equipped with trap doors and ammunition quarters piled high with pre-formed snowballs. I remembered belated relatives, the nastiness of fruitcake, and the year I got a Snoopy Snow Cone Machine. Never had I experienced such a multitude of cherished recollections in such a short spell. It was as if the bowl was liberating my memories and setting them free with each ring of smoke. I felt numb and humbled at this moment made possible only by Grandfather’s pipe.
I was abruptly stirred out of this daze when my Son came into the room and asked with his cute little voice "Dad, can we go home yet?" I looked down at the pipe, then over at him and responded- "Great idea. Let’s get the hell out of here and go home!"
So far...So Good. Let's get a few more entries. I got sumptin nice for the winner.
Very nice James!! :smiley20:
Dammit James...
These are supposed to be CIGAR related, geez.
just kidding bro, that was a wonderful story :smiley1:
bumpity......couple of days left!!
Added the poll, vote for your favorite Christmas Writing Contest entry!!
Thanks for the contest Jamie. Hopefully we can do this next year and get more entries:smiley20: I liked Dustin's entry a lot. Nice twist...
You started this James.........the original will always be yours!! I hope it becomes a yearly thing.Quote:
Originally Posted by slcraiders
It the wife, like she said i really don't have a creative bone in my body. Thanks James she ask every night "did and one say anything yet?"Quote:
Originally Posted by slcraiders
Dustin
I'm gonna declare a winner....Looks like slcraiders has won. James...send me your addy and I'll get a package to you AASP.
Got a very nice prize pack for this from the Sarge today. THANKS!!! Let me just say that it really pays to write! :smiley20:
Quote:
Originally Posted by slcraiders
Glad you liked it!!!:smiley20: