I was born in a shack in Babbit Minnesota, and as my dear departed mother gave birth to me she was a puffin on a pipe smokin' Bull Durham tobacco... inbetween the contractions o'course. Back then you could buy 2 bags for 15 cents. It was a grand ole time for smokin'. That was before the great war and all... a war that would leave me with 8 toes and a slightly less then sunny disposition, but I'll get to that later. We thought of all sorts of contraptions back then that might be around in the future. I mean I used to read Dick Tracy when I was just a boy and he had is talkie watch he could see your picture in. It turned out that the martians didn't actually invade us with ray guns as we thought they did when we heard about it on the radio...
But I digress. I started smokin' at the age of 5. My brand was lucky strike! They toasted their tobacco, and it had a flavor that appealed to me... well the originals with no filter anyway. Filters are for liberals and communists. Anyway a cigarette good enough for Gary Cooper is a cigarette that is good enough for me. Someone tried to tell me that Gary Cooper was a switch hitter, and not playin' baseball if you get my drift. It caught me off guard and at the time I smacked him in the mouth, but in retrospect he was a handsome man, and perhaps just a bit ahead of his time. Who am I to judge? I once woke up with a ladyboy in Thailand in the spring of '77.
Anyway I shipped on out to Europe in the summer of 1941, with $9.57 cents to my name and a pocket full of pecker wrappers, as all of my friends had warned me about the promiscuity of the young french girls... that is if you could get past all of that bush under their arms that even their fancy perfumes could not quite cover up the smell of... which brings me to the point of this whole deal... my review of Vapin' Heaven!
As a half Native, half Irish, half Italian, my olfactory is highly attuned to the various scents that waft my way. During the war I the misfortune of doing a spell of hospice next to a Turk with Dysentery and no legs. The stench that came off that man. Oh he reveled in it though, he may have been sitting in a pile of his own filth, but he took joy in my misery. There were times I had considered ending his miserable life, had I not agreed to marry his sister... but that's another story, and one that pains me to tell every time I look at the tattoo of that awful woman's face taking up the better part of my chest. My one revenge is that as time passes on my wrinkly old skin doesn't do her any justice.
To say that I have been a smoker my entire life is an understatement. these damn fire sticks have been my companion since I was a child, and even when they had to remove a tumor from my throat that was so big I named it fred, I still kept on smoking, that was until the day I wandered upon your store.
Upon entering Vapin Heaven' I was greeted by a fine young lad named Zachariah or some such. It had not occurred to me in my 95 years of life that I could smoke without smoking, and even have it taste like Sarsaparilla.... which is also called root beer if you are a heathen. I had my pack of Lucky Strikes - no filters when I walked in, and when I walked out I became a man of the 21st century! I am not just referring to the vaporizing contraption I bought, but Zachariah explained this thing you call the internet to me, and I decided that if nicotine could taste like root beer, this old coot could learn how to use these typewriter internet machines. I promised him that when I got on the internet, I would leave a nice review. Oh the gumption on that boy. He reminds me of myself, back when I had hair and both my testicles.
So cheers Zachariah for a job well done, this is one satisfied customer! read more