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Clinging to the wrong things

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There were tears streaming down his cheeks. "I sold her jewelery, her favorite furniture, even her meat ration one time --all for cigarettes for me," he said.
"We've all done things we're ashamed of," I said.
"I would not quit smoking for her sake," said Heinz.
"We all have bad habits," I said.
"When the bomb hit the apartment, killed her and left me nothing but a motorcycle," he said, "the blackmarket man offered me four thousand cigarettes for the motorcycle."
"I know," I said. He told me the same story every time he got drunk.
"And I gave up smoking at once," he said, "because I loved the motorcycle so."
"We all cling to something", I said.
"To the wrong things--" he said, "and we start clinging too late. I will tell you the one thing I really believe out of all the things there are to believe."
"All right," I said.
"All people are insane," he said. "They will do anything at any time, and God help anybody who looks for reasons."


Mother Night: Chapter 21, Kurt Vonnegut.
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wbcfor's avatar
Cool association with Vonnegut.

Another sign of the ugliness of smoking...though, God knows, I enjoy one now and then.