No Cure for Cancer by Denis Leary

Author:Denis Leary
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

(Pauses. Inhales deeply on four cigarettes. Stubs them out in ashtray. Exhales. Picks up pack. Plucks a cigarette from it and lights up. Inhales. Smiles. Exhales. Takes another cigarette from pack. Admires it. Holds it aloft.)

But it's a little bit different story when one just (tosses unlit cigarette into audience) DROPS in your lap! That's a hell of a difference, isn't it? (Tosses another cigarette into the audience) Let's talk about will power now, folks. C'mon. Let's discuss will power. (Tosses another cigarette) Let's dissect will power. (Tosses another) C'mon. (Tosses another) Will power. Will power. (Tosses several at once) Just a couple of words placed t1ogether. Will. Power. C'mon. Light up. LIGHT UP! (Tosses a handful) GIVE IN! (Tosses remainder of pack) Stop fighting the urge. Give in. Enjoy. Relax. (Tosses empty pack)

(Mimicking audience) "Oh, please, Mr. Leary. Please don't make us smoke. Please? Smoking takes ten years off your life." Well, it's the ten worst years, isn't it? It's the ones at the end! It's the wheelchair-kidney-dialysis-adult-diaper years. I don't want them. I'll tell you one thing. If I live that long, I'll still be smoking. I'll be in my wheelchair with my adult diapers on, hooked up to my machines. My thirty-four-year-old nonsmoking son will be standing behind me. I'll be going, "Change my diaper. And make sure you wipe this time. My ass was itching all week. And get me another lighter."

We tried to be nice to you nonsmokers. We tried. You wanted your own sections in restaurants; we gave that to you. But that's not enough for you, is it? Because every smoker here knows that when you sit in the "Smoking Area," the legal little area where you're allowed to smoke, and you screw that baby onto your lips and you light it up -- and you taste your first few relaxing sucks -- "Ahh. . . Ahh. . ." -- what do you hear coming from that nonsmoking section? Those little pussy-coughs: "Ahem. . . Ahem. . . AHEM. . . ACHH!. . . ACHH!. . . AHHCHCHCH!. . . THE SMELL OF YOUR CIGARETTE IS KILLING ME!"

Oh? It's the smell of my cigarette -- it's not the smell of urine in New York -- it's my cigarette? You wanted the airplanes? We gave you the whole goddamned plane. Are you happy now? I'd like an explanation about that one, folks, because I'll guarantee you that if the plane is going down the first announcement you're going to hear is: "Folks, this is your captain speaking. Light 'em up because we're goin' down. Okay? I've got a carton of Camel unfiltereds. I'll see ya on the ground. Take it easy." Actually, it's more like this (through a voice box): "This is your captain speaking. Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

And you're always doing your nonsmoking math, aren't you? Always figuring out the future. "Okay. I'm thirty-four. If I quit smoking now, I'll live to be. . . about seventy. . . Okay, I'm thirty-seven.

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