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Giving Up

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Why didn't I keep last year's resolution?!

Joe shuddered and coughed in disgust as he took a deep drag on the cigarette impregnated with Reds. Immediately, they began to race through his bloodstream, setting his body on fire with feverish activity. He moaned as Monica pushed back the lank strands of sweaty hair from his forehead, hearing her soft croon that everything would be okay.

Smoke curled from all exposed flesh as the potent, microscopic machines set to work repairing the damage sustained by the bullets that had torn into him. Once more he had stood between the ones he loved and those who wanted to take them away from him... paying the price willingly as always.

He took another drag, feeling the smoke curl into his lungs and grimacing at the awful taste of this particular brand.

"Damn Menthols," he cursed softly while his teeth chattered feverishly. He knew he would heal a lot faster, and with far less discomfort if the Reds did not also have to repair all the damage caused by inhaling nicotine and tar. This was not usually a problem when simply topping up his supply of Reds from Gracie, but when injured...

Why didn't I keep last year's resolution?!