Revellian

Thoughts and Fiction of Bobby Revell

Posts Tagged cigarettes

Dehydrated Love Story

Mar 28

Posted by Bobby Revell in horror, short-story

Amidst writing several chapters of complex psychologically absurd drama, this bizarre love fritter slid out of my skull and stuck to my scratch paper like a viscid slug. I had to share it with you:

I’m standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona as hell-fire-god-of-death-sun-ray’s perpetually pernicious pain is shat upon my milky-pale and overly tender face flesh, blood-buttered thoughts of perverted insanity spiral like parasitic worms, wide-wedging the jagged fissure betwixt my cerebral hemispheres. A road-ragged whore mongrel of a morbidly repugnant cycloptic prostitute asks me, “Gotta cigarette?”

Standing there naked with my blade shredded cock, peeled banana style—fried pork skin tongued flesh-flaps draping repellent—desert-crackle-dried onto my bare-shaven-upper-inner thighs and splintered mop-stick stabbed up my ass pocket and I say, “Why yes I do have a cigarette you scrumptiously decadent and endlessly sexual beast of a witch-dog-stink-holed-harlot. Would you like a half-smoked mentholated Kool Filter King 100 or an unlit urine impregnated Camel unfiltered which was reportedly once clenched wetly between the sexually desirous testicle suckling lips of Julia Roberts at age eighteen?” I wrap my grime crusted unclean fingers around her lice-ravaged skull as our fluid sheathed tongues defile each other’s mouths. Two highbred patrician couples quick-draw-whip their camera-phones out to capture a Kodak moment for their nauseating blogs or to share with lovers on hot steamy midnight escapades.

She stands perplexed with confusion’s steaming vomit shellacking her vacuous gaze, plucks a blood-stuffed wood-tick from her strangled knot of pubic hairs—the two uptown aristocrats with white-bulbed eyeballs distending from choked occipital pockets blazing stares of non-belief—and says, “I’ll have the half-smoked mentholated Kool Filter King 100. I fucking hate Julia Roberts, she promiscuously slept with 47 men she met on movie sets. I might be the ugliest scab of female to ever walk the planet earth, but hey . . . I have class.

They built a putrid life of love-stench beneath the soul-frying Arizona sun, raised mongoloid triplets in an excrement stained Pueblo mud-tent, and lived three more years before dying of desert-scorched dehydration. The latest word is their rotting carcasses were picked clean by meat-hungry buzzards. Their three children (Poo-Poo, Skabb. and Bunk) were sold to a well-known nefarious biker gang and now star in underground sex films.

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Freebase Nicotine – The Cigarette Drug

Aug 4

Posted by Bobby Revell in Nutrition - Health

One of the most disturbing facts I’ve come across is the addition of freebase nicotine to most popular brands of cigarettes. The cigarette drug lords have your number and your life long addiction is their goal. The companies that manufacture cigarettes, alcohol and prescription medications all have one thing in common: they want your money regardless of whether or not you die. They also want your money regularly. They actually make more money as their consumers die and new ones take their place. Death is part of the business model and is a necessary element to perpetuate its success.

What is Freebase Nicotine?

As most of you already know, cigarettes contain much more than tobacco. Actually, most brands of cigarettes contain only 50% tobacco; the rest are additives. What is the other 50%? What kind of additives?

Basically, they make a product called tobacco RECON. It starts with tobacco dust or Offal – all the trash scraped from machinery, swept from the floor and so forth. Also added are cellulosic materials like wood pulp. This is mixed up in a giant vat and a disgusting dark brown fluid called “Mother Liquor” is derived through repetitive hot water extraction. This is like a million cigarette butts in a jar of water, only using the best chemical extraction techniques.

But that is just the beginning of the “Mother Liquor” (I think I’m gonna puke). You would think this fluid is poisonous enough, but it isn’t. They add up to 599 additives into the mix. Finally, a paper-like cellulose is soaked in the pungent liquor, dried and shredded up into a tobacco like product.

One of the main ingredients in this mixture is chemically altered nicotine. Most of you are already aware that crack cocaine is known as freebase, a smokable form which is the most addictive. Cocaine is bad enough normally, but the freebase form is much worse. A very similar process is used in manufacturing cigarettes.

In normal tobacco, much of the nicotine is chemically bound in the fibers. To fix this and make cigarettes 100 times more addictive, they extract the freebase form of nicotine using ammonia chemistry and add it into the Mother Liquor. This ensures that every drag of smoke you take is filled with freebase nicotine and hits you just like crack. This makes nicotine burn into a gaseous form, which is more readily absorbed by the lungs. It’s nice to know that the tobacco drug lords have your best interests in mind.

Are Cigarette Smokers Drug Addicts?

Yes they are. One thing about society that gets under my skin is how people who smoke, drink alcohol or are addicted to prescription medications are seen in a different light than street drug addicts on meth, cocaine, heroin or marijuana.

One major problem is how people perceive drug addicts. They often look down on them and see them as degenerates, untrustworthy or criminals. We fill our prisons with addicts and dealers – when they are released, they can’t even get a job. You should not look down on anyone as no one is above addiction.

If tobacco were made illegal, it would be the #1 illegal drug in the world, turning millions into criminals overnight.

I personally believe that all drugs should be decriminalized in favor of drug treatment. Many US states have what is called a drug court program – this allows drug offenders to get professional treatment and a clean criminal record. Instead of just throwing them in jail, they are given another chance as well a clearing their criminal charges. This is a step in the right direction.

It’s hard to believe that it’s legal to manufacture super addictive cigarettes with freebase nicotine. If cocaine were legal, imagine the groundbreaking science that would make it 1000 times more addictive. The tobacco industry is the best at this type of science and make illegal drug chemistry look like child’s play by comparison.

I used to smoke and quitting was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I still want a cigarette everyday, though I quit years ago. The cravings never go away and I’ll be wanting a smoke for the rest of my life. Though none of the information in this article is unique or new, it is my hope that it helps someone out there quit smoking. Don’t hesitate to get professional help, nicotine addiction is as difficult to overcome as any street drug. You may not realize that cocaine is only psychologically addictive, while cigarettes are physically addictive. In my opinion, it is easier to quit cocaine.

I recommend you to read my articles:

Much of the information in this article was derived from The World Health Organization pdf.

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Guerrilla Marijuana Farming – My Field Busted!

Jul 7

Posted by Bobby Revell in Humor, Nutrition - Health

I’ve been through some sticky situations in my life and have made some serious errors in judgment. I was around 22 years old and partying like a fool when a friend and I decided to grow marijuana. My friend’s name is Roy, but I will not reveal his last name as he probably wants no association with this article. All I can say is we were like dumb and dumber, though we had a lot of fun – what I can remember of it.

Our first attempt to grow pot went great. We read all the best books, which we ordered from the pinnacle of intelligence, High Times Magazine. I became a guerrilla farming expert in about a month. I could identify a magnesium deficiency at a glance and was an expert on parasites. I even mixed up my own natural bug repellent to spray on the plants so our product contained no insecticides. From that experience, I gained the knowledge to grow any plant, from vegetable to trees. I have a strong background in chemistry, so that knowledge came in handy for testing soil and so forth.
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Death By Cigarette

Jul 1

Posted by Bobby Revell in horror

Afternoon of Terror

The scorching sun poured it’s flesh blistering rays upon my face – a cascading vortex of acidic liquid light – bone charring solar beams cooking my blood into a thickened syrup. I walked down the sidewalk on 28th street, passing a nasty horde of crack dealers and prostitutes. They all stood in front of a bar named “The Crack Casket”. I thought I may have been having a fetid nightmare, but the sticky sweat dripping into my eyes was all too real. There were white, black, Vietnamese and Italian girls standing there almost naked – most dressed in tiny pieces of rags, shoddily sewn together with green fishing line. The ghastly stench of unwashed armpits and infected genitalia permeated the stagnant summer air. I mumbled, “Where’s a crisp breeze when you need one?”

A tall woman approached – so dark – she appeared to be sculpted from black butter. When she smiled, she was all gums and tarnished gold teeth. She scraped a gelatinous jelly from her forehead with a heavily corroded crack pipe, licking the putrid varnish from it with her knotted purple tongue. She sucked in air as if tasting a vintage wine and said, “Excellent bouquet with slight hints of fruit and spice. Come on inside sugar, get out of this heat.”

I asked, “I am craving a cigarette and a drink, you have all that in there?”

“For sure honey child…we got everything a man needs to quell an unquenchable craving. We got absolute satisfaction for you,” she answered while a single polished spot on her golden grill twinkled in the sunlight.

I said, “Thanks, I guess I’ll come inside.”

A one legged hag wearing a grease stained wife beater t-shirt yelled across the parking lot, “You look out of place white boy…you must be lost or something.”

I heard another voice from behind me, “Better watch your back and your wallet bitch!”

Inside The Crack Casket

I apprehensively walked inside, trying to act like I knew what I was doing. I was immediately pelted with a soupy wet fog of morbid vapor and the acrid stench of soured liquor. I sat at the bar next to an albino man with a nappy white beard. I said, “Name’s Bobby…it’s nice to meet you.”

He said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I very seriously doubt it. I’ve never been in here.”

He replied, “No…I am sure I’ve seen you before. You remember the Waffle House Massacre back in 2005? My name’s Casper by the way.”

I gulped in asphyxiating fear, “What? I might have been there. I met a guy named Casper, but that man is dead. I saw him get his head blown off with a 12 gage pump by a guy named Sweet Willie.”

The man glared at me with phosphorescent pink eyes, smiling with a sinister scowl, “I know who you are boy. Now, tell the bartender what you want…I’m buying this round.”

A luscious brunette woman with a dirt crusted face winked at me, “I’m Carnillia Longswallow, your barmaid. What would you like?”

“I’ll have Bushmill’s Irish whiskey on the rocks.”

“Damn good choice – super smooth – tastes like creamy water,” she said, grabbing the bottle with conviction, strangling and fondling the bottleneck as she poured my liquor. As she leaned forward, her breasts were exposed, hanging like pink water balloons – the right supple and tender – the left repugnant. The nipple had been bitten off, leaving a hideously morbid scar. I stared uncontrollably at the ghastly, disfigured breast. I looked up. Carnillia was staring at me, wearing an evil smile, “My preacher got a hold of it one Sunday night after he got drunk on Bushmill’s Irish whiskey. The old bastard gnawed the buttery soft areola right off my milk filled mammary gland…leaving this putridly grotesque deformity. Good thing I didn’t have twins, one of them might have starved to death…haha…get it? I only have one nipple for one baby.”

I gagged, almost puking all over her chest. I leaned away from her and said, “Yeah, good thing you didn’t  have twins. I need a cigarette, you got one?”

She smiled, “You came to the right place. I got every brand of cancer stick known to man. I got Kool filter Kings, Marlboro reds, Dunhills for fancy city folks – I even have Zig-Zag tobacco for those who roll their own. You have to French kiss me for one though.”

I felt extremely intoxicated from only a few sips of whiskey. Maybe they spiked my drink with a benzodiazepine derivative like the date rape drug, flunitrazepam. I felt mesmerized in a hypnotic stupor. Though Carnillia was short a nipple, ferociously stunk and appeared filthily unbathed; she was beautiful and unbearably sexy. She said, “Kiss me…and I want that tongue.”

I felt like a deer in headlights on a dark country road, “You need that cigarette real bad,” she psychically transmitted. I leaned in – her moist, plumped, blood red lips squished against mine – I was rigidly excited, unable to resist her nastiness. Her tongue folded ever so gently into my mouth – licking the back of my teeth, swirling and kneading my lips. She pulled away – a string of saliva connected our oral cavities – snapping like a wet rubber band – spit splattering in my eye.

The stomach wrenching flavor of rotted decomposition permeated my senses…yeeeech….bleeech…I retched a monstrous mountain of vomit all over myself – filled with half eaten chili dogs and English peas. From behind, I heard a deafening scream, “MACHETE FIGHT!!!!!”

Everyone ran towards the back door in a vicious stampede. I followed like a lost sheep, scraping slabs of puke from my shirt with cupped palm – slinging it onto the floor. All I could see was an explosion of furious anger as steel blades twirled through the air – cobras hissing in sheets of sound. They stopped for a second, opposing each other in a standoff. Casper facing a man wearing a gray shirt and khaki pants. Casper faked low – the man dropped his guard, then leaped in the air jetting a skull crushing, jump spinning back kick through the man’s cranium. A razored metallic flash – his arm was nearly severed. Casper blasted forth tearing at the wound with his teeth like a frenzied pit bull, riving the blood drenched arm from his body. He violently pulverized the man with his severed arm – beating him until he dropped from exhaustion. The man lay dead in a river of blood.

machete fight

machete fight

Casper yelled, “Revellian…come here.”

I was mortified, and frozen in fear. I walked towards him slowly. He pulled a crimson stained pack of Marlboro reds out of the dead man’s pocket, “Have a cowboy killer coffin nail with me buddy…gotta light?”

“Sure Casper, anything for a friend…awesome fight by the way.”

We lit our stogies and sat on the pavement by his fresh kill. He smiled and said, “You have cancer. I’m a psychic and can see the disease in your lungs.”

I exhaled a cancerous smoke cloud – a carcinogenic tar shellacked the back of my teeth. I could almost feel the malignant tumors growing in my chest. I was a shivering, vomit encrusted fool, roasting in the blistering sun. He said, “What’s the matter Bobby? You’re as white as an albino ghost…hahaha! You know cigarette smoking is bad for your health. It causes lung cancer, emphysema, heart disease and numerous other sicknesses. Smoke it! It’s going to waste!”

I sucked in the nicotine laden smoke, feeling it glaze my lungs in blackened tar; my alveoli tissues bursting from the noxious, poisonous fumes. I hot-boxed the remainder in vacuum like drags, inhaling every last particle of deadly smoke. I said, “Ah…good to the last drag.”

death by cigarette

Casper said, “You’d better go now. You only have six months to live, I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around in this dump,” as a singular droplet of black fluid slithered down his bottom lip.

I shook his hand and said, “It’s good to see you again Casper…take it easy.”

As I walked away, he screamed, “See you in hell my friend,” his sinister laugh bellowed across the savage horizon – my hand sheathed in his filthy stink.

Shopping In WalMart

Later that day, I was shopping for antibacterial soap and antiseptic in WalMart. As I walked down the shampoo aisle, a blind man stood before me with his seeing eye dog. I said, “What a beautifully white German Shepard.”

The blind man coughed – a tiny wisp of cigarette smoke puffed from his throat, “His name is Buddy. He’s a seeing eye dog. He was trained by an institute in Belgium to smell disease in people. Dogs have 220 million smell-sensitive cells. Humans only have 5 million.”

The dog lunged forward, his paws slapping my chest. He sniffed my abdomen and chirped like a Rainbow Lorikeet Parrot from the Solomon Islands. The man smiled, “He says you have a gargantuan tumor germinating in your guts…you have five months to live.”

I ran from the store, shackled in the chains of nightmarish torture…never looking back. An ominous cloud of venomous smoke still hangs over me like a maddening hell storm.

  • This happened in 2006, so I guess the diagnosis was wrong. My doctor said I was fine.
  • I read the police report: an armless, blood sodden body  was discovered, stuffed in a dumpster on 28th street in Gulfport, Mississippi three weeks after the killing.
  • I quit smoking and run like a frightened rabbit when I smell tobacco burning.
  • The horror word art was created with Wordle, it’s very cool
  • Before I left, I was able to snap the photo above as proof of what happened.

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Blind Date Disaster

Dec 15

Posted by Bobby Revell in life personal

I never go on blind dates after a previous disaster, but I did sort of know the girl, so I’ll call it a half blind date. A friend I used to work with insisted I go out with his sister which I thought was unusual because I would never have fixed my sister up with any of my friends!

I really want to say her real name, but out of respect for my buddy…I will refrain from such an action. This story is so ridiculous, you may think there is no possible way it is true. Even with a wild imagination like mine, I could never have made up such an insane night.

I picked Maria (not her real name but close to it) up at 7:30 pm to first go out to dinner. I was apprehensive about this date because I had heard different things about her – I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She is a very pretty Italian girl who was dressed to kill. When she got in my vehicle, I noticed she smelled of perfume, cigarettes and mouthwash. Wow…what an interesting combination! She asked me if I smoked and I told her I didn’t. Fidgeting her fingers nervously, she said she didn’t either. I knew she was lying but checking out her very sexy legs distracted me from such things…hehe.

She said, “Did you get us a hotel room for later?”

I was thinking omg…she is a wild child…just like I had heard. The truth is, I’m not looking for a girl like this. I decided to not make any judgments right off the bat. She said, “You aren’t answering me…I lied, I do smoke. I hope that doesn’t bother you…stop at the store right here so I can get some cigarettes!”

I pulled into the store and parked. As soon as I turned off the ignition, she started kissing me…so being an upstanding American guy…I asked no questions and let her. She said,”I’ll get some breath mints for later…hahaha!”

At this point, I hadn’t said a single word! She got her cigarettes and immediately lit one acting like a junkie getting a fix. I kept thinking…maybe she isn’t so bad…hahaha. I was actually wanting to go eat at TGI Fridays (I wonder who loves to eat there?) but she insisted we go to Waffle House! She acted like it was a matter of life or death that we eat there.

Personally, I never eat there, especially at the one we went to. She asked me during the midst of a one sided conversation, “Do you like coke?”

I said, “Coca-cola?”

“Hehehe…no silly…cocaine!” she replied laughing hysterically, “do you do coke?”

I said, “No. Please tell me you don’t have cocaine with you.”

She replied,”I’m just kidding…hehehe”

Again, I thought she was lying and began to think I was going to jail before the night was over. She opened up a pill bottle and dumped 3 little blue pills in her hand and took them all without a drink to wash them down. I then noticed she had chewed them up! She said, “Don’t worry, I have a prescription for valium!”

I read the label on the the pill bottle and at least she was telling the truth…I felt very uneasy with a girl this crazy, who chewed up her valium! Inside Waffle House, it became apparent that she knew the manager.

We both ordered orange juice while we looked over the menu. She hopped up and said, “Be back in a minute…by the way, the manager is my ex-boyfriend.”

She ran over and threw her arms around him. They passionately embraced for around two minutes as he glared at me with an evil scowl. I was on the verge of leaving her there and just going home. I was disappointed to say the least! I was not going to let it bother me…I actually found it funny and shook my head in disbelief. I wish I had filmed the date.

The waitress brought us the orange juice and Maria finally sat back down. I went to take a sip and noticed the stench of urine! I smelled her OJ…and then smelled mine again. Mine definitely had urine in it! Maria couldn’t smell the urine in mine. I said, “How could you smell it? You smoke and you just chewed up 3 pills!”

She said,”I’m sorry…If you don’t have a hotel room…we can go to my parents house in a little bit and I’ll make it up to you! We could go to your place if you like instead…I make a lot of noise when having sex…hehehe!”

I complained about my orange juice to the waitress. I saw her ex-boyfriend just staring at me…just starting to get on my nerves. I got up and said, “I’m leaving. If you want a ride home…you better come now.”

She looked at me like I was insane and insisted she had to use the bathroom first. She was in there 15 minutes! I got up and walked out. I saw her hug her ex as she waved for me to wait for her. Finally…she came out…looking exasperated.

I noticed an abrupt change in her behavior as soon as she got in my car. She was wired on cocaine! I was pissed off and started to bitch her out. Apparently, during our argument, her ex-boyfriend came outside to check on her. He started pounding on my window and tried to spit on me!

I immediately thought I was going to jail for assault as I was on the verge of getting really mad. I got out of my car and he backed away from me. She got out and started yelling in a frenetic manner. I was like…why me? How does this B.S. happen? He said, “I’m not afraid of you…I’ll whip your ass boy!

It was then that instead of getting mad, I busted out laughing…I mean serious laughing…tears running down my face. He then thew a wild punch at me…instead of putting him in the hospital…I threw him on the pavement. He landed on his face and chest…and just by chance, a cop was parked behind me!

Oh no…I couldn’t believe it! I was going to jail for sure. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. The cop did what I never expected…he arrested her ex-boyfriend for attacking me! Yay…I was lucky that the cop had seen the entire incident!

Maria asked me,”So…are we going to your place or mine?” (this girl was just stupid!!!!)

I got in my car and locked the doors…hahahahaha…I threw her purse onto the parking lot and left. This was without question, the WORST date I have ever had! I still cannot believe what happened. I don’t feel bad at all about it and I did make the right choice to leave her there.

If you have had a worse date than this…I would love to hear it. I just feel good that I made it out without getting in trouble. I’m proud of myself for not losing my cool. I must be getting older because I have never exercised such good control before! What do you think? Did I do the right thing? Is there something wiser I cold have done?

I am now Mr.Calm…hahaha!!!!!! :mrgreen:

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