Saturday, April 16

An Educati-FUN Video!


Carlos and his little brother Juego are hanging out in the backyard with their friend Jimmy.

"I'm so excited about next week's big game," says Carlos. "I know our team can beat the other team. We're so much better."

"Absolutely," says Jimmy as he pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and proceeds to smoke it.

"Whoa!" exclaims Juego. "What's that?"

Carlos shoves him a little. "It's a cigar, dumb-face!"

"Cigarette," Jimmy corrects as he blows out a large puff of smoke from inside his body.

"But aren't those multiplication-ive?" asks Juego.

"The word is 'addictive,'" says Jimmy. "And no, they aren't. My older brother smokes them all the time and he's not addicted." Jimmy hands the cigarette to Carlos, who quickly sucks a smal bit of smoke into his mouth, but not his lungs, before he hands it off to his brother.

Little Juego takes a good, long tug on the cigarette, inhaling until his lungs couldn't possible hold any more. Jimmy stops coughing in time to admire his skills.

"Nice, you have really good lung controll--" he cuts himself off with a deep, choking, wet cough. He coughs for several moments before he throws up a little.

"Are you okay?" asks Juego, but Jimmy can hardly breath between the coughs.

Juego throws the cigarette as far from them as he can. It falls near Jimmy, kneeling in the grass. With his face contorted in pain, he reaches down and picks up the cigarette. He tries to take another drag off it, but he coughs really hard and the cigarette falls from his hands. He passes out and falls face-first onto the grass.

"Hey guys, what's up?" I say as me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head open the fence and walk in. "What's wrong with Jimmy? Looks like... uh, oh. He hasn't ever smoked a cigarette, has he?"

Carlos and Jeugo notice that when Jimmy fell, he hid the cigarette under his unconcious body. They look up at us silently.

"What do you think, Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I ask.

"I don't buy it," answers Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "That's a case of Lung Cancer right there if I've ever seen one. Maybe emphesima, too."

"No way!" yells Carlos. "You need to smoke a long time to get those things!"

"Carlos, it can only take one drag," I say. Just then Jimmy wakes up screaming, clawing at his melting face. The cigarette, still lit, has burned a small, singed hole through the boy's shirt. "No, Juego, let him alone." Jimmy screams a few more times before slumping back into the lush lawn.

Juego looks at me, eyes wet with the unfairness of it all. He sits crosslegged next to his dying friend and puts his hands up to hide his tears.

Carlos stands with hands hanging at his sides. "Why is this happening to him?" he asks.

"Because he smoked," I tell him softly. Mr. Happy Puppet Head floats close to the melting boy's face, studying him in silence.

"Will we die, too?" asks Juego.

"Yes," I tell him. "You smoked. Cigarettes kill you."

"But... our parents," he whispers. "My brother... I...Oh Jimmy!" He bursts into hysterical sobs. Carlos kneels down next to him and puts an awkward arm around his little brother's shoulder.

"Goodbye Jimmy," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "You were a good friend to us all. You were good. Except those times when you smoked cigarettes, and thereby bringing horror and misfortune to yourself and those around you. Now, as we stand before your quickly decaying remains, we will think of the Good Times. You were one of us."

"I hope you kids learned your lesson," I tell them. "We love you." We walk out, knowing there is nothing else anyone can do for them.

As the gate closes behind us, Juego lets out the most adorable cough ever.


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