"You got a cigarette?"
A homeless denizen inquires, sprawled out on a stoop in front of a CPA's office. He's flanked by three others. They're casually shooting the bull, setting up camp for the night.

I'm merely walking home from work. I do not have a cigarette.

"Sorry," I shrug.
"Thanks anyways, pard'ner."

A few minutes later, I arrive home at Wayne Manor. I set down my keys. I notice my Zippo lighter. I pick it up and flip it open a few times. I'm tired but not ready for bed. The night's not over, I decide.

I clutch the Zippo lighter and head out the door. I stop by the nearest quik-e-mart and buy a pack of cigarettes. I venture over towards my pard'ner's base camp and make an announcement:
"I got a few cigarettes."

The denizens are exasperated. And quickly overwhelmed with gratitude. After four handouts and one click of the Zippo I'm on my way. And yet, I was not done spreading joy -- no sir. There were still 16 cigarettes left, thus 16 hearts left to be filled with the ecstasy of sweet nicotine. It was at this moment that I realized I had needed to become the Johnny Appleseed of cigarettes, marching throughout the land, handing out cigarettes to all who needed the bold, yet mild flavor. I am the real Joe Camel.

I pass a couple walking down the street. I light 'em up.
A meandering pedestrian asks if I have a cigarette. Heck yes I do! I venture past Streets of London. I am immediately a hero.

Surgeon General's Tip:
Smoking is the fastest way to make friends.

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Smoking is as American as apple pie, baseball and rock and roll. It's not a coincidence that France's confidence in America dwindled as America shunned the cigarette. Nor that the media has increasingly lost credibility since Edward Murrow last lit one up. Nor have the movies really had the same magic since Humphrey Bogart died.
Of cancer.
Well, you know what they say, "Smoking doesn't kill people, cancer kills people." And they always know what they are talking about.

Near the end of my inaugural tour a man offers to play me a song for a cigarette. Best deal of the night. He starts playing "Free Bird." Why do they always know "Free Bird?" The man earns the remainder of the pack.

So what if cigarettes kill? Life would have been dead tonight without 'em. And who needs death?

So, whenever there's someone needing a break from the stress of their job, I'll be there. Whenever a too-cool hipster on the patio at the Monkey Bar needs a light, I'll be there. Or whenever you just need your nicotine fix, I'll be there. Your friendly neighborhood Marlboro Man.