Novel & Cerita Blowing Smoke Up Your Bum Origin

Stepping out of the house, I decide that I couldn't wait until I get to the school's 'smoke area' as I pull out a cigarette from it's pack, lit it up and take in heavy puff. Exhaling, smoke oozes out of my mouth as I suddenly start to feel calm. When I'd reached the 'smoke area', Aiden yells at me. "Hey, I was waiting for you so that we could smoke together. No fair!" I take in another heavy puff of cigar. "I couldn't help it. I was about to loose my mind in that damn house" Aiden scowled in disgust. "You have the hots for old ladies now?"

Now I just had to figure out how I’d done it. My first thought was that the weed was responsible. Perhaps it contained some magical ingredient that allowed the smoker to do magic. But there was one flaw in this theory, which was Pitt. I had seen him do magic with the fish-calling, and he didn’t smoke. Then again, Nabbo was on his pipe pretty much 24/7, so there was always a cloud of smoke hanging over the platform. Second-hand smoke magic? It seemed a bit of a stretch.

I whispered into his ears I looked around and noticed the preying eyes on me but I wasn't bothered, the bartender gulped his saliva and rushed out, he came back a few minutes later with some packets of attractive cigars. I took two and smiled, I lit them up immediately and puffed the smoke in the air, I felt a bit calm as the smoke slowly spread "Hey, I thought you said this was a non-smoke bar, why is that motherfucker smoking, who the hell does he think he is" a tall white dude stood up and approached the bartender

"Come in dude it must be something you did" "I don't remember getting all cozy with the ladies yesterday that could be the only viable explanation man" "Or maybe she is pumped up on those female hormones man they are some messed up shit. Tell you what, don't sweat it" he went to his pocket and got out a cigarette, “Smoke it out man" "Not in the mood" "Got you covered" from the other pocket he fished out a smoking pipe. "Now you talking"

“You’re blaming the rain now?” He chuckled softly, that low sound that made my stomach flutter. “Maybe,” he said. “But I also have something that might help with the cold.” I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Oh really? What’s that?” He crouched by his bag and pulled out a small paper-wrapped thing, holding it up with a grin. I blinked. “Is that… smoke?” He nodded. “Yeahhh. Helps calm the nerves.” I stared at it for a second, biting my lip. “I’ve… never smoked before,” I admitted quietly, feeling stupid the moment I said it.

My hunch about the girl who was lying there on the bench became stronger when I remembered what Cain said. He said, "The third person you need to kill has a power of smoke, which came from his cigarettes. You must not go towards him headlong, because if you smell this smoke, definitely, you will be out of your consciousness and if you smell too much smoke—definitely, you will die in just a short period of time."

Bozo found a stone from the fallen building and relaxed his weight. He tucked his sword under his armpit and with his free hands took out his snuff-box from his pouch. He taped the coverlid and scooped a large portion into his nostrils with his index finger. The electrifying rush that went from his brain to all parts of his body made him shiver as he groaned with pleasure. The people of Umunta have become his favorite. They were skilled in grinding the tobacco smoothly and the lack of adulteration made him fond of their product. Unlike his previous sellers who often mix the tobacco with colorants and other useless leaves, this was the best anyone could ever ask for.

“It’s bum. I look like a bum.” “Okay, bum,” Ida complied. “Why are you running around looking like a bum?” Pam pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from her faded bomber jacket pocket and tore at the wrapping. “Maybe I am a bum,” she mused. “A low down, filthy bum... loser... a nothing... a low down, filthy, nothing, loser, bum.”

For three years I'd sold my blood, tried test drugs, done whatever it took to chip away at the massive debt my mother had dumped on me. Every time I thought about all of it, the struggle, the shame, my whole body wound tight like a wire. I pulled a slim cigarette from my pocket and lit it. The faint, tea-scented smoke filled my lungs and loosened something in me. That's when Brode spoke. "When did you start smoking?" My fingers twitched around the cigarette. "A long time ago. I don't remember." He went quiet. A beat later, he reached over, plucked the cigarette out of my fingers, and tossed it out the window.

Elijah smacked his lips, his little brows furrowed tightly, and his face showed an expression of extreme distaste, as if he had eaten something impossible to swallow. He stretched out his small hand and patted his belly, muttering, "Not tasty, bitter, and it burns my mouth." A faint crackling sound seemed to come from his stomach, followed by a wisp of blue smoke emerging from his nostrils. Elijah instinctively rubbed his nose and sneezed, and the smoke vanished without a trace.