A Pipesmoker's Hell

The part of the church where the silliest things happen. Conversations that sound like they belong in the youth room will be moved here.
BrotherOfTheBriar YouHeartlessBastards
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Re: A Pipesmoker's Hell

Post by TNLawPiper » Mon Oct 02, 2017 6:13 pm

hugodrax wrote:
Mon Oct 02, 2017 1:35 pm
TNLawPiper wrote:
Mon Oct 02, 2017 1:19 pm
hugodrax wrote:
Mon Oct 02, 2017 1:17 pm
TNLawPiper wrote:
Mon Oct 02, 2017 1:15 pm
hugodrax wrote:
Sun Oct 01, 2017 8:35 am
JudgeRusty wrote:
Sun Oct 01, 2017 7:06 am
Goose55 wrote:
Sat Sep 30, 2017 9:51 pm
Rusty wrote:
Sat Sep 30, 2017 5:01 pm
Goose55 wrote:
Sat Sep 30, 2017 2:44 pm

Actually, most pipes I smoke these days are sitting by the dottle bucket, where I left them, waiting to be cleaned. I only once in a while set the stummels out in the sun, if they begin to smell foul.
LOL! It looks like you're giving in and surrendering to the community standard. Resist. Tell them you hang the pipe carcasses on the clothes line and they knock in the wind.

What is this dottle bucket? Do you not smoke the whole bowl?
Yeah, I do mostly always smoke the entire bowl. But in instances where I do not, there is the dottle bucket. An empty 3 pound Costco Kirkland Signature coffee can.

What are you saving it for?
Do you expect to save 3 lbs of dottle?
Are you going to smoke it?
Are you going to spread it around your tomato plants next spring?
Also, how much coffee does this guy drink? Who even has cupboard space for a three pound can of coffee? Let alone six pounds, because Costco sells them in two packs?

I can tell you where Pipe Smoker's Hell is. Without shadow of a doubt, it's Ajo, Arizona.

Think about it. After a series of inexplicably bad decisions, an offended God leads you to end up with a broken down car in Ajo, Arizona. You get a tow to J B Auto Repair over at 1440 N 2nd Ave. I encourage you to look at Google Street View at this point. You effed up if you are here.

You can't help noticing the for sale sign over on the Bamboo Village. God forsaken town doesn't have a Chinese restaurant. It has been your experience that the Chinese are the coal miner's canary of small town economic indicators. Town doesn't have any Chinese restaurants, you're looking at a dead town.

Filled with an uneasy dread, but stuck for at least four hours while J or B fixes your car, you cast about for someplace to get a bite to eat. Asking about restaurants, you get sent to Marcela's Cafe and Bakery down on West Dorset Street.

This is the typical diner/greasy spoon common to all small towns in America. Plain food. Bad coffee. A waitress that calls you honey and offers you a slice of pie. Every town you've ever been to had one. Except Lubbock, Tx. This is the only town you might dislike more than Lubbock, Tx, at first sight.

You order the meatloaf because you're in an existential malaise, a feeling of hopelessness washing over your body. Wandering out for a smoke, you fill your pipe with the last shreds of Borkum Riff you bought at that gas station where your car refused to start because, well, to hell with it, your day couldn't get any worse.

That's what you thought. Right as you strike a match, you notice an excited man walking up to you out of the corner of your eye. To be fair, you'd notice this guy anywhere. He's wearing a Smoking Pipes T-Shirt tucked into his dungarees. Rainbow suspenders and a tooled leather belt with a bronze buckle advertising Dad's Root Beer. An Amish straw hat with ribbons is atop his head. On his feet, sensible brown shoes with crepe soles. You'd notice this guy anywhere. He's smoking the most enormous pipe, a bent brandy Ascorti. Well, at least he has some taste, you think.

He strikes up a conversation. Nice guy, you think. Maybe a bit odd, but we're all bozos on this bus. You play along as he tells you about himself, obviously glad at the company. You notice he never makes eye contact, though.

You have lunch together, both glad of a little congenial company. He orders a roast beef sandwich. When it comes, you learn the bulge in his right trouser pocket is not actually, as you had thought, a tobacco pouch but rather a small, Tupperware container with two compartments, one filled with pickled beets, one with Bleu cheese. He carries on the conversation cheerfully, not noticing your slight discomfiture as he carefully arranges the beets and Bleu cheese into a smiley face pattern on his sandwich.

"I see you found Walt," says Betty, your waitress. "He loves his roast beef, pickled beet, and Bleu cheese sanwiches. More coffee, hun?"

When lunch ends, Walt tells you to come over and blow the time by looking at his pipe collection. He offers you some Tudor Castle. Since you're out of tobacco, sans transportation and utterly forlorn, you accept gladly.

You drive to a pleasant little development, if such a thing could truly be said, betokening better times. You hear the happy sounds of playing children next door and are startled by Walt's response. "Kids. Always kids. Laughing and making noise. I often think the world would be better if people just decided to stop breeding and force the Second Coming, don't you." Startled and discomfited, you ask to go back to J B Auto Repair, but Walt won't hear of it. Just now you notice the scorched earth and scattered, burnt trees on his neighbors property. Better not ask, you think.

He shows you his trumpet vine and new air conditioning unit and invites you into his "Arizona Room," really just a screened off enclosure. You can't help noticing the three pound can of Costco coffee, filled with the dottles of god-knows-how-many-pipes. Walt brings out pipes. You can't help but notice every dammed one of them looks the same--large, bent brandy-shaped pipes you could stick your thumb into, with brown, over buffed sandblast finishes. Whoo boy, you think. Just then you notice a cat looking pleadingly at you, attached to the water tank by a dog harness. Overwhelming dread washes over you. You realize god doesn't hate Fainn. He has it in for you.

Everywhere you look, signs of oddity. Stems soaking. Sun bleached stummels like so many dead soldiers scattered in the sun. That damned coffee can.

You pull out your cellphone. It's dying. You're about to be utterly trapped. Knowing what you know about the Arizona police, you know you'll never be found if something goes wrong.

Suddenly the phone rings. 'Sir, this is B over at J B Auto Repair down on N. 2nd Ave," he says. You can't help being a little surprised. His name is actually B. He pronounced it "N. Two-end."

"We found the problem. Turns out your gladiculator went. We ordered a replacement, but it'll take two weeks to get here. This town is a geographic anomaly."

Screw it, you think. I'll make a phone call. Relaxing a little under the influence of the Tudor Castle, you explain the situation to Walt, who cheerfully tells you to come in and use the phone.

"It's a little early, but I'll pour some Kirkland Brand Blended Scotch for both of us. Phone's over by my new Costco work station. I set it up in a u pattern, which wasn't shown in the advertising photos, but I prefer it that way."

He ushers you into a pleasant room with a nice, modern work station. Big computer in the middle. Comfortable chair, you think sitting down. Just then you notice the lamp. The lamp shade is missing its fabric. Just the two wire rings. Huh, you think. Why the?

It's the last thing you ever see as the world fades to black.


Sorry, Walt. I know you like it. But Ajo looks like Hell to me. I need my Beef Sichuan Home Style with Chili and Salt pickle.
You typed this up on the toilet, didn't you? Freak.
No, it never takes me that long. You thought about me on the toilet, though, didn't you? Unspeakable pervert.
I am capable of recognizing that you use a toilet without imagining what you look like doing so, you dullard.
Promise me you'll never leave Tennessee. Your unique talents would be wasted elsewhere.
Damn your quick wit.

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Re: A Pipesmoker's Hell

Post by Fainn » Tue Oct 03, 2017 5:01 pm

Any hospital.
It takes a smart eye feller to say, "I feller smart".

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Re: A Pipesmoker's Hell

Post by hugodrax » Tue Oct 03, 2017 5:26 pm

Fainn wrote:
Tue Oct 03, 2017 5:01 pm
Any hospital.
Woah. This guy wins.

Also, you should ask your doctor whether you're healthy enough for sexual activity.
I am also of the opinion that the Jesuits should be suppressed.

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