Here's a happy smoking story from the 1970's. Both my parents smoked, I used to put cigarette loads (tiny fiercrackers!) in every two, or three cigarettes with a tooth pick and sit back to watch the show. Then I'd run around the yard being chased.
When they got wise to it, I'd dip their cigs in water, let them dry and put them back in the packs! They didn't like that either.
So them I'd flush them down the toilet. One day my dad had enough and cornered me in the living room with his infamous white leather belt (the sound of it coming off his polyester leisure suit was like a siren wailing and telling you to run for it). When he yelled at me to give him one good reason not to thrash me for all the damage to his 3 pack a day habit, I said, "Dad, because I love you- if the smell of those cigarettes makes me sick to my stomach and makes me feel like I am choking, they must be killing you'." Ahhhhh, cherished memories and the joys of childhood.
I didn't get a butt whooping that day, but he didn't quit smoking either. I did, however, learn to throw away cigarettes and packs randomly... Without getting caught. Lol
We both laugh about it now.
As an adult, though, I did bring back some Cuban Cigars from Cozumel... Those were worth the slight risk bringing back them to the states... I wouldn't mind lightening up one of those on a firepit night every now and again... Suit not required, but brandy is mandatory.
Every choice comes with consequences. Positive consequences are called rewards. Negetive consequences are called punishments. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.