Hmm, well, your comments seem to be waning a bit on this interactive, which doesn’t mean I’m going to stop it by any means, but I think I’ll try to give a more specific “prompt” in the future. However, if the comments taper off still, I’ll just start taking a bit more liberty with the story myself, or maybe just put it on hiatus for a little while, we’ll see. Regardless, I did like Ken as a tobacco user–how about he stumbles upon a very fancy humidor?
***
Ken struggled up from the floor, too slow to follow Butler, possessing the now fatter Bob, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow them anyway. In fact, as far as he was concerned, this was a much better turn of events. Sure, he was old. Really old, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror, but who knows, maybe there was something that could be done to reverse the change, but in truth, all he really wanted was to get out of here, if he could. Luckily, he could remember the way out of the servant’s quarters and back into the house proper, and while he thought about looking for clothes, he decided it would be safer if he just went naked, as strange as that was. Still, after his experience with Butler he didn’t think any clothes here would be safe, and Bob’s clothes had been too filthy to be tolerable.
As he walked the house, listening carefully to try and avoid running into anyone new, he couldn’t help wishing he had a cigar to smoke, or anything that might calm him down. He had tobacco on his mind so much, that when he caught a hint of smoke on the air, he followed the scent without really thinking about it, into the wing of the house reserved for guest quarters. Hallways there were lined with bedrooms and private studies for the people who must have visited the previous owners of the mansion, but his nose was pulling him to somewhere in particular, and he recognized the glass door of a walk in humidor from a ways down the hall.
He did his best to contain his excitement while he peered into the room–it looked to have a massive collection of cigars, pipe tobaccos, chewing tobaccos and cigarettes, more than he’d ever seen before, and when he opened the door, the rush of air indicated that the room must have maintained it’s seal all of those years. Curious, he stepped inside, proping the door open with his foot, but it slammed shut of it’s own volition, trapping him within.
“Welcome to the guest humidor,” a recorded voice said, “Please select a program for your smoking experience.”
Ken looked at a panel next to the door, where a number of buttons were flashing, all of their labels illegible from years of neglect. “Do…Do you have any master’s blend cigars?” he asked.
“That tobacco is not available to guests.” Ken sighed, disappointed, and then tried to open the door, but it was sealed shut. “Error, guest user has yet to select a program. Please select a program.”
Ken felt worry come alive in his stomach. Apparently, the humidor wasn’t going to let him out until he smoked something, but he didn’t really want to find out what might happen to him if he did, and he couldn’t make out most of the labels to see what might be safe, and what might be extreme. Still, he could see that they were collected into four groups, apparently for pipes, cigars, chew, and cigarettes. It looked like he didn’t have much of a choice–now what program did he select?
***
Here’s a few possibilities, based on some feedback I’ve gotten.
* A cigar experience which turns him into a domineering leather bear.
* A pipe experience which turns him into an old, proper gentleman.
* Some chew which converts him into a grizzled, raunchy cowboy.
* A cigarette which gives him a skinhead makeover.
Or anything else you guys can imagine–don’t be shy! What have you got for me?
Bracken's Corner 