The Eighth Page

Phillipian Satire: Senior’s Cigar Experience

I did it. I finally graduated. I could not be happier to leave this place. I’m not sure whether to start jumping up and down or break down in tears of joy. But, I have one last assignment to complete. It is a test I have been avoiding and dreading since arriving at Andover. Drugs, specifically a cigar. Of course, I have heard about and seen all sorts of contraband on campus and the crazy stories that have come with them! I’m looking around and seeing over a hundred kids attempting to smoke a cigar. Some students appear to have already mastered the skill and are passing the cigar around to their entire extended family including their seven-year-old cousin who just happened to pass out. Other students seem to be having some trouble with theirs. In a group in front of me, I notice one kid attempting to light his by smashing the end with a rock. A different kid is smoking his but forgot to light it and is repeatedly yelling, “I’m so faded right now!” One kid was successful in lighting his cigar, but I don’t think anyone told him what hole he was supposed to stick the cigar in. The last kid seemed to be doing everything correctly, but no one told him that he wasn’t supposed to inhale that smoke, and he is now on his hands and knees projectile vomiting. “Here you go,” my friend says to me while handing me my cigar. We both try to light them but are struggling. “Let me help,” my uncle says, stepping towards us while reaching for my cigar. He effortlessly lights the cigar with one hand and then takes a couple rips to “make sure it was lit.” He grabs another cigar from my friend and lights it using my cigar. He then takes a couple more rips of both cigars at the same time, explaining that this was called “double trouble.” He passes it back to us, and we take our first rips together. We exhaled and, for a second, I thought that my cigar was broken because I wasn’t feeling anything. But then it hit me, my mind went blurry, my balance was shaky, I felt a tingle throughout my whole body, my first buzz. I begin to yell, “It worked! It worked! I’m hammered!” I turn to my friend to see how he’s doing and find him passed out on the ground. I take another rip, obviously chasing that same high I just felt, that calming, happy feeling. I then decide that the rest of my life will be focused on matching that same feeling of my first buzz, using whatever means necessary.