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My Urn is an Ashtray

Article by guest writer "Frank Y." • Foreward by "Shmookster"

11•5•2025

"You are about to read one of the greatest auto-biographical works created by man: a manuscript to rival all others. The following text has been graciously written by an outsider, one Frank Y., for exclusive publication on Shmookster.Neocities.org. And even though this article is the first of its kind on this web page, I believe it is the best thing to be etched into this collection of HTML files. Light up a nice cigarette and brew yourself some coffee because you're in for a treat like no other."

My nicotine journey started at a rather young age. I was fifteen when I popped my nicotine-flavored cherry on an Ashton cigar gifted to me from my sister. The experience was ecstasy. The preparation of the cigar, the lighting right before your very first puff; it felt like something that I had been lacking my whole life. I loved the way I looked whenever I took a drag, and back then, the harsh taste never bothered me. From then on I would smoke around two to three a year on special occasions.

One of the turning points for me was when I smoked a cigar down to the point where it resembled a gall from an oak tree. Every puff was brutal. It was thrashing at my tongue and throat as if I had just premaritally ravished its daughter. I had an egregious headache. I laid down for twenty minutes just to be able to move again. That’s it, never again. I gave my last remaining cigar to a friend of mine who came back to visit from his college in Nevada.

I thought that was it; my nicotine journey had crashed and burned like the Hindenburg. Fortunately for big tobacco, a new friend of mine offered me a citrus Zyn in my Algebra II class of Junior year. The buzz is incomparable to any other nicotine product I have ever tried. One second you’re in class, the next, you’re inside of your skull seeing that it’s completely empty. Just like that, I was back, and unlike the Hindenburg, I was on top of the world. I proceeded to buy an entire pack of citrus Zyns from my new (favorite) friend and I enjoyed all fifteen of them in the passing weeks. I would take one while lying in my bed and closing my eyes. There is no experience closer to death without actually dying than that. It was extremely unsettling but surprisingly calming as well. I was at peace with the world. I highly recommend trying it at least once in your life.

They say that you should start using Zyns if you are a heavy smoker; they can help with quitting. It was quite the opposite with me. Zyns are a gateway drug. If you do not want to start smoking, do not start using Zyns, cigars, snuff, or dip. At the end of my junior school year, I had done very well on all of my state-required standardized tests. Naturally, my father wanted to reward me. He offered money, dinner at a nice restaurant, or something of my choice. I wanted cigarettes. I couldn’t tell you why I wanted them. I guess they had just been on my mind for a while. He agreed with no hesitation. I didn’t know a thing about cigarettes so I let him choose what I would smoke. Marlboro Lights, the very first pack I ever smoked. I remember him explaining how to open them and light them. I immediately dug one out, put it in my mouth, and smoked it down fully without one single cough. I was God’s chosen smoker. Very few people make it through their first square without coughing, yet I didn’t even take that into account. All that was on my mind was "when's the next one?"

I swore to my father that one a day was the maximum, and it was true... for a while. I would get home from my HVAC apprenticeship with Wilson Heat & Air, smoke a square, then go on with my day. If I ever wanted a second I would simply ask my dad and he would gladly say yes. I do remember, however, being excited for tomorrow’s cigarette immediately upon finishing my daily. That was nothing to worry about however because if I did smoke another then I would just have less days of smoking en totale. This is because I was only ever allowed one pack at a time.

It was around my third pack of Marlboro Lights that I started watching JacobFuckingJones. I was eventually recommended one of his Natural American Spirit videos and I was enamored with everything about them. They were simple yet stunning, and Jacob’s reaction had me jonesing for one. Upon finishing my last Marlboro Light, I went to the store with my old man and got my first American Spirit Orange pack. Just like my very first cigar: ecstasy. I tried going back to Marlboro Lights for memories, but I just couldn’t. They were too fragrant, they didn’t last as long, and they didn’t give me that same voracious buzz.

Senior year finally starts. No one in this world knows that I am a regular smoker other than my brother and father. I attempted to ask my mother for a pack of smokes once, but had to assure her I was joking shortly after. Smoking felt great, loneliness did not. Yes, I had friends, but would they understand why I regularly smoke “cancer sticks”? So I waited for a time when someone would come along who was also a smoker. Little did I know, there is nobody my age smoking cigarettes anymore. I would have to enjoy one of life’s pleasures all by myself, until…

About a month into school I became friends with a fellow that is not normal by American standards. He has long hair, distinct political views, and is not afraid to tell someone when they are out of line. I wasn’t too sure that this guy would get along with me just because I was so different from him. Little did I know, my best friend was already good friends with him. They ring me up saying that they are having a function at one of their houses and that I should come. I gladly oblige, while not forgetting my squares and a lighter. When I arrive, I make sure I have permission to smoke and that everyone is fine with it. Once given the thumbs up, I pounce. The smoke hit their collective noses like a freight train; I just know it. Had I made a mistake? Would I forever be that guy, the weird guy who lit up a cigarette at an innocent poker match? After a second glance at everyone, I could distinguish the room into two groups: “nullismokers” and possible targets. And out of anyone, the long haired fella looked like a bullseye. I offered him and my best friend one each, and they obliged. Neither of them liked it very much.

I went home that night with a melancholic feeling. I had wasted two squares, and had outed myself as a smoker. I went on smoking my daily until eventually Friday would come along again and we were all going to hang out, same place, same time. As the night progressed, one of the fellas there was stalling the game with one of the stories he told. My best friend looked at me and reached out his hand palm up. Could this be it? Was he really bumming me for a fag? I gave him one and felt a weight lifted off of my lungs. I also gave the Long haired fellow one and I will never forget the face he made upon feeling his first nicotine buzz. It was the kind of face that a child makes whenever tasting his first confection. There we were, three guys smoking, not a care in the world. This was what I had yearned for all that time. That was a good night.

It went from smoking one cig every poker night… to two… to however many we wanted. There really was nothing impeding us from smoking a ludicrous amount, other than money, of course. Eventually we all got our own packs and we delved into the many different brands that big tobacco had to offer us. My friends had each picked up my habit of smoking one a day, and I couldn’t help but ponder: has this all been an egregious mistake on my end? Sure, I had made many great friends and further strengthened the bond between my best pal, but had I just gotten them started on a fatal path? I couldn’t… can’t be certain of this, but what I do know is that this has been the best four months of my life.

Underneath there lies decay
But in between there is relief
The only bond for two is one
And both will say, “I’m having fun”
Is it bad to feel so good?
A risk that is worth every tooth
Underneath there lies decay
My urn will be an ashtray

(This was very enjoyable and soothing to write. I only wish that I had a cigarette while I was writing, though)

- Frank Y. November 5th, 2025 1:24 pm central time