Fyodor's Fateful Nightshift

As I lay in my bed, I couldn't help to think of the last few days. It had been a hectic week at work, and I hadn't had much time to eat. The stress of the job coupled with the lack of proper nutrition had finally caught up with me. I felt like I was dying of a stomach flu, but it wasn't nausea or vomiting that threatened to kill me.

I sat up as quietly as possible, but there was no way out of this one without waking my wife. "I'm going to be sick," I said in a low voice, hoping she would get out of bed and leave me alone. No such luck. "What's wrong?" she asked sleepily. "I don't know, but I feel like I'm going to puke." She looked concerned and got out of bed. "Can you make it to the bathroom?" She nodded affirmatively and led me down the hall.

She waited outside the door while I threw up into the toilet. When I was done, she came in and handed me a washcloth to wipe off my face and rinse my mouth out with water from the sink faucet. "Do you wanna try going back to sleep?" She offered, but we both knew it wouldn't work. At this point, lying down was just making things worse; at least when I was standing upright some blood seemed to be getting through to my head.

"No, let's go downstairs," she said. "I'll make you some tea." There was nothing like a good cup of tea when you were feeling under the weather, right? My wife is Japanese, so she knows a lot about various herbal remedies for various ailments - I've even tried them myself on occasion (and they *usually* seem to work).

We made our way down the basement stairs and into the kitchen where she put water on for tea and went into the living room to turn on some light music on our CD player for light background noise (although if it was any louder than that I probably wouldn't have heard it). Then she went back into the kitchen to get her stash of herbs and oils which she used per her own recipes for everything from sore muscles to minor colds to anxiety attacks (we both have stressful jobs).

As she sorted through her stuff, something caught my eye: an opened pack of cigarettes lay on top of her purse near the edge of countertop next to where we had placed our overnight bags earlier today before we left for work. We weren't smokers - in fact we both actively disliked smoking - but we each carried around packs in case we ever ran into someone who invited us over or met up with us after work who *wanted* a cigarette. You never know when or if you might need one yourself...

I hadn't smoked in months but as soon as I saw that pack lying there all alone like that in its little plastic wrapping, something inside me gave way - not physically...but mentally - something in my brain snapped just enough that all logical thoughts and common sense went out the window and an internal dialogue started playing itself out in my head: "Well, if you're gonna be sick anyway - why not smoke a cigarette now? That'll help settle your stomach." Yes...it would...yes it would! Perhaps not medically sound advice...but everyone knows cigarettes actually smell very unpleasant when you're sick or nauseous...and sometimes they help calm your stomach down so you don't throw up anymore! You see it all the time at bars...people smoking after drinking too much...it's a classic cure-all! And anyway - if this doesn't work then what's really lost? A couple bucks for a pack of cigarettes? What would any doctor recommend more: smoking a cigarette or throwing up more? The answer is obvious! Besides...you're already sick! You can always buy another pack later if it works! Just try it out! What do you have to lose? Nothing! Go ahead! Light it up! Nothing bad will happen...no one will get hurt! It's just one cigarette! Who cares!? And besides - who needs logic anyway!?