How will the end come? If the prophecies be true, will there be roars and tumults, crashing and burnings…? Or will we all just blink out?
Call it 50/50 either way. Betting odds, enough, that I’m laying in one special cigar, on the chance that I’ll sense the onrushing doom, and have time to light up and enjoy my Partagas 1845.
I’ve often turned to Cifuentes, and Partagas, for fuming up my special occasions. I enjoyed one of these same 1845s on my last birthday. Couldn’t think of a better smoke for the apocalypse.
So that’s my plan then. Stand lock-still all December 21st, Partagas in one hand, lighter ready in the other. If the prophecies be true, if I’m to breath my last, then that breath will be kissed by Dominican maduro leaf.
And if not—if we’re just doing the ol’ Y2K shuffle yet again—I’ll smoke it December 22nd.
