Cigarettes.
One of the few things that are far more dangerous than illegal drugs that the Philippine government allows and earns a lot, one other drug is mass stupidity which the government also earns millions because of it.
But our story revolves around cigarettes, and a little stupidity from time to time.
Ricardo, a brand spanking new employee of Company X. A fresh graduate from one of the factories of mass hypnosis and brainwashing called universities and colleges. He was a typical guy that will probably have some similarities with some of your friends. Clean cut hair, always tidy with his appearance, walks normal, average body build, not too fat, not too thin, wears Chuck Converse shoes, listens to rock music, hates the government and the evil taxes, and smokes cigarettes, about a pack a day.
Living in the stinky, humid and overcrowded city, he was accustomed to the usual pollution of the vehicles and so to become immune to such health hazards, he decided to smoke cigarettes. He thinks that it will make him immune, which in some way kinda work.
He smokes a lot, yet thanks to isopropyl alcohol, which is available in the convenience stores here, and cheap perfume available at the mall, the stinkiness of made by the cancer sticks he had devoured magically disappears.
"Ma'am Dora here's the papers you've told me to do this morning." said Ricardo, handing a folder and has just sat at his chair in his cramped cubicle before his boss Mrs. Dora Mondo came.
"You just finished smoking?" said Mrs. Dora while viewing the contents of the folder, "it's good that you're mindful of others at least you put on some perfume unlike others here. The stench is unpleasant to be honest., but you're an exception."
"It's a connected habit ma'am." said Ricardo smiling at her.
"Very well, I'll leave you now. I'm going to send this to the accounting department okay. Keep up the good work." said Mrs. Dora moving along the long road of cubicles.
Ricardo yawned. Since he had already done his work, he decided to do some dilly dallying on the internet to relax after a good smoke. Waste his time on social networks and image boards, like most employees also do in the office when the boss is not around.
He hated this type of work. Office work to be exact. Too many rules, policies, meetings, dress codes, scheduled lunches, coffee with people you really don't give a shit about, scheduled vacations, paper work and most of all sitting in front of a computer for almost a third of the day.
Rebellious type, he was. But he followed his gut. It said it will get hungry if Ricardo didn't get a job. Other than his gut, his relatives forced him to get a job and stop dreaming of becoming a rockstar or an artist. When he was still in highschool and college, he played the guitar night and day, played in small festivals and bars with his band, which was not approved by his family. But when his bandmates started their way onto their own lives, having their own families, going abroad for work, or having a night shift job which was not conducive to having a band, the band well disbanded abruptly without a notice.
He didn't blame his bandmates. It really was their lives and their decisions and he respected it.
Working for almost two months. Everything was fine and boring for him. Wake up at five in the morning, cook breakfast, eat breakfast, clean the dishes, take a shower, get change, pack up stuff, walk a few blocks to the nearest store and buy a pack of cigarettes, smoke one, go to the bus stop, ride the bus, get off the bus, walk a few blocks to the office building, greet the cute security guard, punch his card, greet office mates, sit in the cubicle do mindless work that he doesn't even know why he was doing it, take a cigarette and coffee break, back to work, lunch alone in a near burger stand, smoke, go back to the office, work at cubicle, finish work, punch out at five, walk a little and smoke at the parking area, talk to the cute security guard for a few minutes, say goodbye to the cute security guard, walk to the bus stop, ride bus, get off bus, walk a few blocks to the store and buy a bottle of soda and smoke a stick or two, then walk home, change clothes, cook food while watching the news, eat, smoke the last few cancer sticks in his pack outside while playing the guitar, brush his teeth, go back to bed and call it a day.
One night, he stared at the ceiling of his apartment room, which he shared with two other guys, he thought of his band.
"I think I've just forgot the music.."
