Cigarettes and Karma

Rule 1: Don't walk out of Mayfield Woolies with your new pack of smokes on display. As soon as the eftpos says "approved' put them in your back pocket and pretend you didn't buy smokes, you bought a lighter, or a phone recharge. I learn this rule the hard way, and field five requests for a smoke before I get to the back car park. I'm feeling karmic and grant each one, turning down the offer of a dollar twice, I'll get money tomorrow to buy more anyway.

I change my mind and go back to the main road to get the bus instead of the train. The lady security guard stands on duty at the building across the way. Everyday opening the door for, and talking to the endless parade of Mayfield head cases. I try to imagine someone worked up enough about their insurance that a security guard is required, and if the small woman in her mid 30's , one broken nose away from Extreme Makeover, would actually do anything. I wonder if I could take her out, decide I'd get my arse kicked, and wander off to get a cheese and bacon roll. When I get back to the bus stop the 100 bus has stopped and a wiry man with a face like a beaten leather bag gets off. The security guard bristles visibly as soon as he steps to the footpath. He sees her suddenly, and yells "SORRY! I didn't mean to" and leaps back into the bus between the closing doors. The security guard relaxes, and I wonder what bizarre circumstance I've intruded on.

Rule 2: Don't buy cigarettes from school girls. They're all of fifteen, looking older than fifteen year olds should look, but still visibly unsure of themselves. I approach and they instantly go to defensive positions, though I don't take it personally. Strangers in Mayfield are usually worth the defensive approach. As soon as I offer a dollar and it's clear there's no sex in my proposal, they fight to be the first to produce a smoke and claim the golden coin. The transaction complete, and the 3 old ladies on the other seat looking at me as though I'd crapped on the street in front of them, I'm on way and can't help but feel disappointed they took the dollar, my karmic efforts all in vain.

I smoke the 8, and miss the harsh embrace of the 16s I usually smoke. I rationalise my actions internally for the benefit of the old crones, one less cigarette for those poor young girls to smoke. They can miss cancer, I'll take the bullet. The bus arrives before the bullet.

Rule 3: Don't ask snooty old ladies for a free smoke. My karma completely deserts me and she sneers at me like I'd proposed a full cavity search. A taxi pulls up to the rank and I don't wait, grab the front door handle and wear a full body assault of verbal rage from the old lady. She rants and yells about being at the rank before me, I open the door and the cabby says "taxi for Mr Pink". I laugh and look back at the old lady and tell her about the merits of calling ahead. She latches onto the back door handle, throws her bag in and leaps behind it to the back seat, and says firmly that she's not leaving.

I stand outside the taxi, the driver looks at me, looks at the old lady and tells her politely that I have booked the taxi, and she gives him an earful of violent threats. She finally screams "FUCK THIS!", throws her bag to the street outside the car, and gets out. The driver looks at me again and I shrug casually, "no idea mate". The old lady spits on the cab, and I pull a bible quote card from my top pocket, a card given to me buy the local religious guy earlier that day. A puppy floats in a pool in an inflatable rubber ring, "Go With The Flow" written dreamily above, I suggest this to the old lady as the cab pulls away and toss the card to her from the window, as she launches into a fresh spate of aural abuse. The cabbie laughs, pushes the automatic windows down and offers me a smoke, as my karma comes flooding back to me.