To a smoker, a potential cigarette. To the same smoker without the use of hands, worthless.

Painstakingly, due to recent broken knuckles and in general, hand, Jeff Stillwell rolled the worst cigarette ever. In fact, the cigarette was as gnarled as his newly demented fingers, nonetheless, it dangled on his bottom cracked dry lip, while strands of tobacco fell. He would soon discover that lighting the cigarette was impossible without the aid of healthy thumbs. The growing frustration was maddening. Upon deeper meditation, he thought this might be a good time to finally quit smoking.

While on the topic of quitting, he had just been forcibly coerced out of gambling with a little help from the mob.

All in all though, things could have been much worse. When the thugs ambushed him, they asked him what he did for a living. He quickly lied and admitted to being a piano player. With this information, the thugs broke his fingers using pliers and the back end of a screwdriver. They knew what they were doing. The proof was in how much it hurt.

Jeff found the pain bearable since he was getting away with such a bold mistruth. If this had happened two days earlier, before the shaving mishap, the outcome would have been different. You know, you trim a little too much on the left, and then you try to even it out, until you’ve got no choice but to get rid of it completely. It’ll grow back, right? He shivered wondering what they would have done if they knew he was a porn actor. Just to be clear, he was rocking a stereotype porn ‘stache.