It was a matter of Life or Death

Soo there I was in the frozen tundra...the wasteland known as my neighborhood park. It was a blisteringly cold 4 degrees. My yellow lab dog weaned on crack as a puppy and more closely related to Meth-Lab than black or chocolate, hyper as you can imagine that breed needed to go outside. I had bundled up and grabbed the shortest stick in my humidor. A Macanudo small robusto...generally a 45 min. smoke....and had hoped to make a couple quick laps around the neighborhood park enough for Stoli, that's my crack head dog, enough time to mellow out a bit before taking him back home. My cigar though was suffering from a bad draw, horribly plugged. I puffed and puffed and could barely get any of the frozen needle sharp air to go thru it. There I was, about to succumb to the elements when in a crazy fit of a survival act, I bit the top half inch off the Macanudo....drawing freely now, the smoke poured thru the damaged stick and I managed to cut what had looked like and hour and a half smoke in that frozen wasteland...one that would have surely ended my life...into a much more enjoyable 20 minutes. Much to Stoli's chagrin. As I stiffly stumbled back up the steps into my wife's awaiting arms, I was near tunnel vision and had all but lost the care of the needle sharp pains in my extremities and the pincushion prickly burn of my cheeks...I can only look back in awe and amazement of my moment of clear thinking and sharp judgment in chomping my stogi in order to save my own life...a story to tell the grandkids someday for sure huddled around a warm fire while sipping hot coco and showing them my frostbite scars....