Cigar Secrets

So as I was cruising down the road in Charlotte I saw this cigar shop.  I pulled in and walked into the dimly lit establishment and saw a bunch of sophisticated people smoking cigars.  The savory aroma of smoke billowed in the place and people all turned and looked at me.  I always dress disheveled.   "I am new to cigars, I just want something cheap, I don't care what it is." I said to the gentleman working the counter. He went into a bargain bin and put a cigar or two in a zip lock bag and handed it over the counter to me.  As he was ringing me up another patron who was sitting on a chair in front of a laptop blurted out a warning: "You know kid!  Be careful with these things.  If you are new to this it will hit you hard." he stated. So I had this thick cigar.  It smelled sweet.  It looked like any other cigar.  I could care less where it was from.  It could have been from Turkey or the DR or China for all I knew.  All I knew is that I wanted to be cool.  I wanted to be one of those guys in the suits.  Charlotte is one the the banking hubs of the world.  These guys know what they are doing.  The secret lies in the cigar.  It gives you powers.  Great enlightenment lingers in the leaves: what stock to buy, what stocks to sell and where the hot real estate is!  I had to get a taste of it! So I get to my studio apartment.  I find an old lighter.  One of those lighters with the long snout, for starting up grills or something.  I light the tightly woven cylinder of tobacco up and take a puff.  I cough.  I choke.  Nothing happens.  Then my brain kicks in to high gear.  I become alive!  All of these complicated math formulas appeared on weathered paint on the walls of the apartment.  Complicated formulas.  The more I puffed the more they made sense.  I realized at this point in time that I am at my peak, I am on top of the world.  I am subconsciously mingling with those guys in the business suits.   As time went on.  So did the buzz.  I really only could smoke the cigar down by about a quarter inch.  That was all I could handle.  That was all I needed to know where the money is.  The money is in art.  It is in making quirky drawings and putting them on the intranet.  What people need is quirky drawings. Something to interrupt their minds day-to-day, mundane flow.  I expect to make millions off of my art.  When I return to that cigar bar I will pull up to the place in a shiny Rolls Royce.  My body guards will get out of the car, look around suspiciously, then open the door and let me out.  They will walk me into the dimly lit, smoke filled room.  I will go up to the person manning the counter and have tears rolling down my face. "Thank you, thank all of you!  You changed my life!"