Cast out : Pipes and Tobaccos Magazine

Cast out

editors-desk header photoWhen the world was young, Adam and Eve enjoyed an existence like no other. The weather was perfect, the animals friendly (except for one), and the tobacco was delicious beyond our capacity to imagine. Tobacco grew wild in all varieties and was delectable right after drying, but even better after the Lord showed Adam how to cure and age it. Adam fashioned pipes from the heath trees that the Lord showed him, with 4 mm drilling through the shanks, as the Lord instructed him. And Adam was happy.

The serpent, though, did not like smoke (scholars have identified the first serpent as an early variety of the California glantz snake, also known as the viperous smoke hater). “We both dislike Adam’s tobacco,” he said to Eve.

She hadn’t thought about it before. “Maybe he can build a garage and smoke in there.”

“There are wonderful-smelling things here in the garden,” said the serpent. “Perhaps if Adam used some flowers and fruits in his tobacco, it would be improved.”

Eve suggested it to Adam: “Why don’t you add some fruits and flowers to your tobacco so it smells better?”

“Woman,” he said, “your senses have left you. My tobacco smells perfect as it is. The Lord Himself approves. It shall not be defiled.”

“Then you must smoke only at the tar pit,” she said. “It already smells bad there and you can do no harm.”

Adam hated the tar pit, so he started experimenting with fruit juices and various flowers until his tobacco smelled like cheap incense. “That’s much better,” said Eve.

Adam disagreed. “It tastes awful and smells strange. What’s that word you made up last week to describe fresh wildebeest dung?”


“Yes, that’s it. That’s what my tobacco is now: aromatic.”

“Well, I like it,” said Eve. But her contentment was easily disrupted. “It still smells bad,” said the serpent.

“It’s acceptable,” said Eve.

“It’s a public nuisance,” said the serpent. “But there is one flavoring that can make tobacco smell wonderful. It’s called apple, from the fruit of the great tree.”

“Adam,” said Eve later that day, “your tobacco is still putrid. I think you need to flavor it with apples from the great tree.”

“Nay, foul harridan, for the Lord has said not to. You were there. He said, ‘But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, nor flavor thy tobacco with it. Leave that tree alone.’”

“Then you can smoke over at the tar pit. I don’t want you smoking anywhere else in the garden.”

So Adam smoked on a tar-encrusted rock in the one corner of the garden he didn’t like. The tar pit belched awful stenches and bubbled and spat at him, and he was discontent. “This is unnatural,” he told Eve. “I’m the man. This is my garden. I should smoke wherever I like.”

“You are indeed the man, my husband. But it is also your duty to keep me happy. And you know what happens when I am unhappy.”

Adam grimaced. “You mean what doesn’t happen.”

So Adam picked the apples and flavored his tobacco with them. But the Lord, walking through the garden, smelled the apple aromatic rather than the natural tobacco He preferred. Knowing the source of this modification, He cast the couple from the garden.

From that day, throughout history, people who believe themselves godlike have cast smokers from their places of solace, from their taverns, restaurants and clubs, their shops and offices, and sometimes from their very homes—all because of a snake with a superiority complex and ulterior motives.





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Category: Editor's Desk, Pipe Articles, Spring 2012

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