Reversed Cigarettes

Two haggard dudes sat on a park bench. Their shirts were stained with dirt and what looked to be blood and, if you ventured near enough, you'd be unsurprised to find that these boys were stinky, too.

Sergei, the fella on the left, turned to his friend Mark and punched him hard in his right arm. "HaHA! Didn't see that coming!" Sergei attempted to yell, but he was interrupted midway into "didn't," when Mark landed his own fist in Sergei's kidney.

The two sat a little longer is silence, rubbing their sore spots, before laughing together loudly, at which time Sergei pulled a flask of liquor out from his pocket and announced his intention to toast.

"You sonofbitch," he began, and then concluded without another word, having decided instead to laugh a great deal more. "Yes!" Mark agreed, and each of the two took a long, healthy swig from the little metallic bottle.

"You know," Sergei began again, looking around at the park's many trees, his eyes finally resting on blue sky. "Yes!" Mark screamed again, initiating another gurgling round of booze.

Two hours later, Sergei and Mark were still at their park bench, now joined by a third man. Sergei looked away from his companions, having grown uneasy after the arrival of Bob the Homeless Man Who Lived in the Park.

Mark, on the other hand, was deeply involved in a heated conversation with Bob. "Can I have a smoke?" Bob had been asking the two men. "Why not!" Mark concluded, handing the drifter a clean, stiff cigarette.

"You know, I used to smoke these all the time," Bob said, turning the object over in his hands. "But then they reversed them," he added, holding the filter away from his face.

"They reversed them?" Mark asked with great concern.

"Yep," Bob said sadly.

Sergei shot Mark a nervous look, but Mark was feeling nothing but unhappy sympathy for his friend Bob.

Within a minute, though, Bob flipped the cigarette again and said with a smile, "But I think they changed them back."