One day somebody decided to roll some tobacco in a piece of thin paper and the cigarette was born.* People lit them and smoked them and there was much joy in the world. But there were others who found the smoking of the cigarettes vile and disgusting. One day doctors discovered that cigarettes caused damage to lungs. With the inhalation of toxic fumes and all. But people continued to smoke, throwing caution to the wind. They also threw smoke to the wind, which carried it to the non-smokers who deemed it foul and smelly.

Then one day the doctors realized that even non-smokers can get lung damage from the smoke of the smokers who smoke when the non-smokers are near. Thus, the term “second-hand smoke” was born. But smokers didn’t care, they just kept on smoking. Whenever. Wherever. However often they pleased.

Soon smoking was barred from most indoor areas, and all the smokers were exiled, forced to go outside with their rolled tobacco. And there was peace on earth.

But one day, my children, all the smokers of the world decided the best place to enjoy their cancer sticks was huddled up near the entrances and exits of all the buildings in the world, forcing all the silly non-smokers of the world to walk through their cancer-causing stench whenever they needed to enter or leave a public place. Thus, non-smokers became prisoners in their own buildings.

They’ve been living there ever since, starving for scraps, begging for freedom, while the smokers stand guard at all the doors of all the buildings of the world. Smoking their cigs and beating back the non-smokers if ever they try to get home to their families.

Moral of this story: BACK THE FUCK UP YOU MOTHER FUCKERS! IT’S NOT MY FAULT IT’S RAINING! I DON’T CARE IF YOU SMOKE, BUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!

*I don’t know the real history of the cigarette, but go with it.