one at the bus depot too

more adventures in hate-reading

First page of a Hellblazer trade paperback:

John Constantine lights up in an American bus depot, and a security guard points to a “No Smoking” sign: “Hey buddy, take it outside.”

Constantine: “Y’know, for a land that holds freedom so dear…it’s surprising how little of it is actually tolerated.”

Guard: “Whatever. Non-smokers have rights too.”

Constantine: “That they do. Apparently ones held in higher regard than mine.”

This is a man for whom, in a life dealing and battling literal demons, one of his most terrifying and painful experiences was nearly dying of late-stage lung cancer, followed closely watching a friend actually die of lung cancer, for whom continuing to smoke is an act of nihilistic self-loathing…

Yup. This guy would absolutely devote energy to feeling aggrieved that he has to walk three steps so others aren’t forced to take in the carcinogenic fumes he’s slowly, deliberately, killing himself with.

…four days’ reluctant reading later…

Sometimes I should listen to the little voice that tells me on page 3, don’t do this to yourself. The last two Chew trade paperbacks are right there on your shelf, idiot.