While writing the Osama bin Laden post I had a flashback. It had to do with the word 'cigarette'. Isn't that strange how one word can lead to a memory. Anyway, I just finished emailing one of my grade school friends to find out if he recalls the event. I think we were around twelve. That was a trouble year for me and a lot of my friends. Testosterone was kicking in, our body parts were changing and we thought we were on the verge of controlling Boone, Iowa.
If memory serves there was a "hoodlum" or "hood" killed in a car crash. He was one of those guys who feasted on kids like us; you know, smart mouths. Every time he saw us we'd get harassed and run for a safe haven to escape the bully.
A couple of us decided to visit the funeral home; not to pay our respects but to make sure the bad guy was a 'goner', never to bother us again. We made certain we visited home at non-peak hours, around 2 pm. Lord knows we didn't want to see a relative, or, another more dangerous "hood". Anyway, one of the guys decided the best way to get back at said hoodlum was to leave a calling card; something no one would forget. I can't remember but I might have been that guy. Who knows. Who cares.
Anyway, a cigarette was found, lit and placed between said cadaver's fingers. Then, we skedaddled pronto.
I guess the question(s) is: "Did we do wrong"? "Was it not nice"? Or, did we leave a legacy for the loser that will live with his descendants for the ages?
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