I always hated it when my parents didn't give me a drag. They would wrap their mean ole lips around that juicy stick-o-cancer and then completely forget about me and my little brother. We would be forced to listen to them talk non-stop for well over an hour. It was as if we weren't even there. They would go on and on. Then they would calm down and take out another cig. But it got kinda weird at that point. After they pulled that cigarette out, they would hold it and play with it for a long time. Then finally, they would smoke it. Then we would have to listen to them blabber on and on, meanwhile we were jonzing hard. All that secondhand smoke was a freakin tease. Man, I remember some days, we would have to chew on freshly smoked butts. That helped some, but really only made us more anxious in the long run. Thanks for the memories, it really made my night.