If my life were a movie, the antagonist would be tobacco. All through the movie, it'd be getting the upper hand, foiling me at every turn. Every time I'd hit a low point, it would show up, laugh in a chilling manner and then kick me in the stomach. Whenever I would earn a victory, it would kick my legs out from under me and turn that victory hollow. It would even sneak into my bathroom at night and replace my shampoo with Nair. It's just a big jerk like that.
But then, towards the middle of the movie, I would have sold all of my worldly possessions and set out to search the world for a way to defeat tobacco. Cut to a montage of me travelling the world, seeking out methods of defeating my enemy; each one ultimately proving ineffective. Perhaps tobacco could be superimposed over this montage, laughing maniacally all the while. My quest is looking more hopeless by the minute.
The montage ends with me at the ends of the earth, possibly in a snowstorm. I'd stumble, exhausted and half-starved towards a great temple looming in the middle of nowhere. I'd pull on a bell rope and then collapse on the front steps. The camera would pan slowly up to a roundel (I'm thinking bronze) on the door etched with three letters: ECF.
The scholarly monks of the temple would bring me in, nurse me back to health and ask me why I have come there. I would smile bitterly and tell them of my fruitless attempts to defeat tobacco, and conclude that it was simply not possible. One of the monks would lead me along a corridor, explaining all the while that every single member of the temple was in my position at one point. He would casually take apart every single technique I had tried up to that point, explaining that each was ultimately flawed, but that hope was not lost.
Here in this very temple, he would say, lies the knowledge I could use to defeat tobacco. He would open a door and gesture for me to pass through. In the next room, we see a massive library, filled with countless books and scrolls; novices and adepts alike scurrying here and there with armfuls of scrolls. There are thousands of people here, sitting at desks and tables. Some are simply reading, some are annotating, and some are writing completely new ones.
The monk takes me over to a shelf piled high with paper. "Here begins your training. There are many paths to your destination; here is where you will find the arts and techniques that suit you best," the monk would say.
"But, there are so many; I wouldn't know where to begin," I reply.
"Read them all. Meditate on them. Find your path. Just remember: when you climb a mountain, there are myriad choices on where to start your journey, but they all lead to the top."
Montage number two: Me in the library, poring over armloads of books and scrolls. We see some titles:
KR808 and 510: The Ways of Stealth.
eGo: The Path of Tirelessness.
Variable Voltage: The Technique of Many Unique Attacks.
Direct Dripping: Strength in Simplicity.
There are other scrolls, too. I am discussing these scrolls with novices and masters alike. Cut to me meditating one evening in my cell. My eyes open, and I smile. I pick up a scroll and re-read it. I nod to myself. I approach a master, asking for instruction in the ways of eGo, and the montage switches gears into a training montage.
I learn the techniques. I study from other masters at the temple, too. I learn some VV and some Dripping, and become skilled in the use of cartos, clearomizers and atomizers. I find the e-liquids that give me strength.
One day, I leave the temple, ready for the showdown. I check and recheck my equipment, brace myself and challenge tobacco to one last fight.
"It's you or me, tobacco. One of us isn't walking out of here," I say. Tobacco laughs and attacks.
He throws a family argument at me! I knock it aside with one sweep of my eGo. Workplace stress! I battle a little longer with this one, but ultimately, it, too lies at my feet. Money woes! This one forces me to lose ground a little, but I pull out my VV, bump up the strength, and beat it into submission.
Tobacco isn't done.
ALCOHOL! I dual-wield my weapons, but he lands a blow and I stagger, arm bleeding. Bruce-Lee-like, I glance at it, taste the blood, and beat Tobacco back with a flurry of Vape Fu.
I'm standing over Tobacco, who is lying on the ground, dazed and bloody.
"You think you've won, MisterMike?" he says.
He reaches behind his back and pulls out his ultimate weapons: Moving and Home Renovations. The orchestral score of the movie takes on a Bolero-like quality; building in intensity and volume as Tobacco leaps to his feet and we battle back and forth, locked together in mortal combat. Suddenly, Tobacco flags for an instant. I beat his weapons aside and land a flurry of blows that knock him to his knees.
"Yes, Tobacco. I've won," I say. I draw back my weapons for the killing stroke. "Time for you to go UP IN SMOKE!" My voice rings out loud and clear as I finish him, turn, and walk away without a backward glance.
The credits roll.
But then, towards the middle of the movie, I would have sold all of my worldly possessions and set out to search the world for a way to defeat tobacco. Cut to a montage of me travelling the world, seeking out methods of defeating my enemy; each one ultimately proving ineffective. Perhaps tobacco could be superimposed over this montage, laughing maniacally all the while. My quest is looking more hopeless by the minute.
The montage ends with me at the ends of the earth, possibly in a snowstorm. I'd stumble, exhausted and half-starved towards a great temple looming in the middle of nowhere. I'd pull on a bell rope and then collapse on the front steps. The camera would pan slowly up to a roundel (I'm thinking bronze) on the door etched with three letters: ECF.
The scholarly monks of the temple would bring me in, nurse me back to health and ask me why I have come there. I would smile bitterly and tell them of my fruitless attempts to defeat tobacco, and conclude that it was simply not possible. One of the monks would lead me along a corridor, explaining all the while that every single member of the temple was in my position at one point. He would casually take apart every single technique I had tried up to that point, explaining that each was ultimately flawed, but that hope was not lost.
Here in this very temple, he would say, lies the knowledge I could use to defeat tobacco. He would open a door and gesture for me to pass through. In the next room, we see a massive library, filled with countless books and scrolls; novices and adepts alike scurrying here and there with armfuls of scrolls. There are thousands of people here, sitting at desks and tables. Some are simply reading, some are annotating, and some are writing completely new ones.
The monk takes me over to a shelf piled high with paper. "Here begins your training. There are many paths to your destination; here is where you will find the arts and techniques that suit you best," the monk would say.
"But, there are so many; I wouldn't know where to begin," I reply.
"Read them all. Meditate on them. Find your path. Just remember: when you climb a mountain, there are myriad choices on where to start your journey, but they all lead to the top."
Montage number two: Me in the library, poring over armloads of books and scrolls. We see some titles:
KR808 and 510: The Ways of Stealth.
eGo: The Path of Tirelessness.
Variable Voltage: The Technique of Many Unique Attacks.
Direct Dripping: Strength in Simplicity.
There are other scrolls, too. I am discussing these scrolls with novices and masters alike. Cut to me meditating one evening in my cell. My eyes open, and I smile. I pick up a scroll and re-read it. I nod to myself. I approach a master, asking for instruction in the ways of eGo, and the montage switches gears into a training montage.
I learn the techniques. I study from other masters at the temple, too. I learn some VV and some Dripping, and become skilled in the use of cartos, clearomizers and atomizers. I find the e-liquids that give me strength.
One day, I leave the temple, ready for the showdown. I check and recheck my equipment, brace myself and challenge tobacco to one last fight.
"It's you or me, tobacco. One of us isn't walking out of here," I say. Tobacco laughs and attacks.
He throws a family argument at me! I knock it aside with one sweep of my eGo. Workplace stress! I battle a little longer with this one, but ultimately, it, too lies at my feet. Money woes! This one forces me to lose ground a little, but I pull out my VV, bump up the strength, and beat it into submission.
Tobacco isn't done.
ALCOHOL! I dual-wield my weapons, but he lands a blow and I stagger, arm bleeding. Bruce-Lee-like, I glance at it, taste the blood, and beat Tobacco back with a flurry of Vape Fu.
I'm standing over Tobacco, who is lying on the ground, dazed and bloody.
"You think you've won, MisterMike?" he says.
He reaches behind his back and pulls out his ultimate weapons: Moving and Home Renovations. The orchestral score of the movie takes on a Bolero-like quality; building in intensity and volume as Tobacco leaps to his feet and we battle back and forth, locked together in mortal combat. Suddenly, Tobacco flags for an instant. I beat his weapons aside and land a flurry of blows that knock him to his knees.
"Yes, Tobacco. I've won," I say. I draw back my weapons for the killing stroke. "Time for you to go UP IN SMOKE!" My voice rings out loud and clear as I finish him, turn, and walk away without a backward glance.
The credits roll.