There is absolutely no magic or wizardry in this humourous tale. The story might seem familiar but this is actually a funny tale about not smoking and has absolutely nothing to do with anything famous and in copywrite. This story was written for fun when I quit smoking just over a year ago. I include it merely to share the fun and hope that some people may seriously consider quitting if they still smoke.

Garry Quitter and the Philosopher's Drone

Part I

Very little stirred in the early morning hours at Endmessy Drive. Mist hung heavy in the air when, suddenly, a small disturbance sent a little mist scurrying in loops. It is quite amazing when you think about how much a fox fart is greater than that of a butterfly's wings but, before we go too far into the debate of chaos theory there was something else disturbing the fog that night.

An old man with a white beard and a pointy hat strode purposefully towards Endmessy Drive number 1. A cat meeowed plaintively by the kerb. The old man levelled a boot and just managed a swift kick up the jacksy before a woman appeared in front of him. The old man recognised her immediately and slumped his shoulders in exasperation.

"I should have realised you were going to stick your nose in this "Professor Givupemall."

The Professor looked fit and healthy and although in her latter years her features looked 20 years younger, if she could have gotten hold of more botox it would have been 30 years but you can't have it all.

"Professor Bumthemall", she said - still unable to stop the little smirk at her bosses unfortunate appelation. Then her voice became serious. "Is it true professor?"

Bumthemall looked down at the little bundle in his arms and sighed. "Yes", he said. "It is true and this boy must now live with his Aunt and Uncle Butsy".

Givupemall looked horrified. "You can't possible hand the boy over to these people. They are the worst smuggles I've seen in a long while. They smoke over 60 a day each and they…"

"..are the only family that can afford his habits" said Bumthemall. "He is only 2 years old but he is already on 20 a day. He will have to smoke with the other outcasts…. until he is ready!"

With that, Bumthemall put the boy down on the doorstep with 40 fags and a lighter. One more glance and he said. "Good luck Garry Quitter".

Part II

 

Mrs Butsy thumped hard on the closet door under the stairs. "Wake up Garry" she shouted from the edge of her mouth that wasn't balancing half an inch of fag with two inches of ash threatening to commit suicide into her wobbling tea cup.

Garry winced as he fumbled for the nearest cigarette packet. "Damn", he cursed as he realised that he had smoked the last one before he told his cousin Butly* to stick his fags up his namesake. Perhaps a slightly silly thing to do considering he was now fagless and gasping.

(*Yes, his name is Butly Butsy - probably the worst kind of chain smoker in the world. Under 20 years old overweight, no exercise and smokes at least 60 a day. Will probably never do a days honest work in his life but will want free treatment for asthma, thrombosis, heart disease and lung cancer).

Reluctantly Garry climbed out of his pit and wandered into the kitchen. Mr Butsy was at the table shrouded in a mist of smoke and reading the morning paper. "Can I have a fag please Uncle?" asked Garry in a way that made him want to die. Garry's parents had died when he was very young. He couldn't remember what started him smoking but all he knew was that he had an expensive habit and he had no money to pay for it. What he did know was that the Butsy family got all their fags cheap from abroad. 'Smuggles' they were called and apparently the local authorities would be mighty interested if they found out. Consequently Garry had managed to sustain his 20 a day habit by blackmail, extortion and general every day ponsing.

Mr Butsy peered malevolently over his paper. "Flamin' leech", he growled as he flicked his packet of 20 begrudgingly towards Garry. "You should be grateful we let you into our 'omes", Mr Butsy lectured. "'ere we were, finking that some benefactor was gonna donate more than 40 stupid fags to your upkeep, and yet we find that whatever fortune you 'ave you can't share wiv us until you're older". Suddenly Mr Butsy slammed his paper down. "Well let me tell you this", he growled, "You ain't goin' mor'en a mile from this 'ouse until we see a return on our investment wiv you!"

Garry quickly swiped a fag whilst ducking the meaty hand of his so called benefactor and ran to the front door just as the postman arrived. Garry was surprised to see a letter addressed to him. There was an emblem on the envelope that looked like a coughing toad, but before he could get any further, Butly grabbed it and pranced around the room shouting "Garry's got a letter. Garry's got a letter!" Mrs Butsy, who was busy trying to scoop the ash out of her teacup, said, "Who'd wanna write to 'im?"

Mr Butsy roared, "That Bumsucking no good bumthemall". Mr Butsy was so angry that he reached immediately for a cigarette, only to notice that he had one in his hand already alight. "Ah what the hell" he thought and lit another one anyway.

Mr Butsy confiscated the letter and stated, "That's it Ma. We're goin' to find a dark and miserable shed in the middle of nowhere. We'll stock up on baked beans and rollups and Bumthemall 'ad better stay away or I'll… or I'll… I'll blow smoke in 'is face!"

Part III

 

Storms wailed and worried the little shack in the middle of nowhere. The sea smashed against the rocks and sprayed salt water into the cracks of the old building. Basically it was the silliest place to build a shed you could think of.

Garry drew a picture of a fag in the dust of the floor with a little wisp of smoke coming out of it. "Happy Birthday Garry" he said to himself, when all of a sudden there was a terrible thumping at the door, followed by a raucous coughing. Whatever it was that had tried to thump the door open collapsed in a heap against it instead, which was so old it gave way and this enormous hairy figure bundled into the middle of the shack.

"Who the bleedin' 'ell are you?" blurted Garry.

The giant of a man drew himself up to his full height, took a deep breath - which was probably a mistake - and coughed his lungs up for the next ten minutes.

By this time the Butsy's were up an alight. Garry scowled at his family as no one was going to offer him a fag unless they'd dropped it in puffin's do and it was too wet to smoke anymore.

Eventually the big man got his breath and pointed at Garry. "Are you (cough), are you Garry Quitter?"

Now this was quite impressive to Garry as no one had mentioned his surname since the end of part 1 of this story and that was many years ago in his lifetime.

Garry became a little more interested in this person. "What if I am?" he hedged.

The big man sat himself down, reached into his coat and pulled out a large fat 14 inch roll up. Lighting the end the giant drew in deeply. The shack lit up as almost two inches of tobacco glowed fiercely under the suction. The giant inhaled almost to the very depths of his boots before billowing a vast cloud of cherry black tobacco around the entire room.

Having satisfied himself of his addiction he turned to Garry and said, If you're Garry Quitter then you are invited to get rid of that habit of yours". Garry shuffled nervously. "Habit? What habit?" he said.

"This habit" the giant said waving around his exceptionally large rollup. The giant leaned down and looked at Garry squarely in the eyes. "You're a nicotine addict, Garry", he said, "and a thumpin' great one if that picture in the dust is anything to go by". Garry started guiltily at his drawing. Yes he knew that smoking was a problem for him and for many but he had never thought of just stopping. Right now, though, Garry felt vulnerable and exposed. So after he'd zipped up his flies, Garry launched into a defensive posture.

"Who ARE you?" Garry asked as he attempted to deflect the attention away from himself. The giant squared his shoulders and said. "My name is Fagrid. I am the groundsman and personal tobacco grower for 'Fogwarts' the school for quit-craft and quittery". Garry thought about that for a moment. "Isn't quit-craft and quittery the same thing?" Fagrid raised an amused eyebrow. "Expert before you even seen the place eh?" Garry looked down feeling embarrassed.

Fagrid dug into his pocket again and produced a letter. Garry meekly took the letter and opened it. "You are invited to quit smoking at the best quit school ever, signed Hopelessly Bumthemall". Butly looked over Garry's shoulder and could not help but gaffaw helplessly at the headmaster's ridiculous name. Fagrid was livid at the insult and within second had shoved a large rollup into butly's butt and lit it with flame thrower. Butly ran around in panic, threatening to burn the entire shack to the ground. Mr and Mrs Butsy, thinking that the insurance would not cover this scenario if he did, ran after him with cups of water and newspapers.

Garry found himself laughing for the first time he could remember. Fagrid put an enormous slab of a hand on his shoulder and said "Well boy. You want to quit the weed?" Garry felt torn between the life he had always known and the excitement of leaping into the unknown. "OK", he said. "How do we get out of here? Have you got a flying motorbike or something?" Fagrid look incredulously at the little boy. "Don't be daft", he cried. "Got a motor boat at the quayside. Flying bike indeed. What a stupid idea!"

Part IV

Garry's first shopping trip with Fagrid was to a little known place in London called Diabolical Alley. It didn't really exist but that was where people could purchase all sorts of black market fags for the cheapest prices. Fagrid wanted to order a job lot of some rather exotic brands plus he was after a certain type of 'herb' for culinary purposes. It seemed strange to order fags and pot for a school but when Garry thought about his old school, perhaps not. Maybe it was just that his old school puffed away in secret and Fogwarts did it in the open.

Garry looked around at the shops nearby. There were clothes shops selling school uniform, book shops and a stationers. It was an ideal place for someone just starting back to school. Garry turned to his new guardian. "Fagrid", he said, "All these shops look great for buying uniforms, books and stationery but I don't have any money". Fagrid looked with a beaming smile at Garry. "Course you don't", he said, "Stupid of us to hanging about really isn't it. Come on then". Garry started to feel that this story wasn't quite going the way he expected.

Euston Station was buzzing as it always was. One only had to look at the labeling on discarded packets of fags to see that it was overflowing with 'smuggles'. No bugger had accidentally thrown a packet away with one in it though, Garry grumbled to himself. It was hours since he last had a fag and he was gasping. The big giant accompanying him was happily smoking something that smelled quite strong and seemed to make Fagrid rather happy.
"Don't suppose you've got any ordinary fags?", asked Garry hopefully.
Fagrid looked wide eyed and dreamy at his companion. "Nah. 'fraid not". he said. "Not til we get to Fogwarts, and certainly not while we're being chased by coppers".
"Coppers?" said Garry. "What coppers?"
"The ones that can smell me spliff", said Fagrid as he quickly bunged a train ticket into Garry's hand and spun on his heels. Seconds later two uniformed police constables whizzed past Garry after Fagrid with words like "stop" and "Police" coming out between breaths. The last Garry saw of Fagrid that day was a large pair of heels flying around the corner and a reference to sticking to one's ticket.

Part V

Garry found quite a few young people on the train were traveling to the same school. Surprisingly the kid sitting next to him was one of them. He introduced himself as Donald Wheezy, an asthmatic who could hardly talk let alone lug on a filter tip.

Opposite was a young girl called Harmony Stranger. She seemed to be both bossy and impossible to spend more than a few minutes around but Garry already started to get the hots for her. There was another kid who carried a toad with him for some reason. Every so often Garry could have sworn he'd see him licking the toad's back. Granville Shortass definitely needed a bit more study.

The train ride was tedious and uneventful. It was also irritating as every compartment was 'No Smoking'. Not that it mattered much to Garry because he was already skint and fagless. Some little old tea lady came round with a trolley with sweets and stuff, which was no match for a group of kids, some distraction and something alive moving around in the hands of a strange looking boy. By the time she left their compartment area the children had purloined half the contents of the trolley for the price of a diet pepsi.

Fogwarts was an impressive sight. Well actually it would have been an impressive sight if it wasn't on fire for the third time this week. Bumthemall had remonstrated with Professor Snout many times about stopping the little ba... er, darlings from smoking in bed. So much for trying to impress the newcomers. The school dormitory was ablaze once again and the towering spires and crenellations of this superb building were engulfed in smoke. 'The show must go on' he thought purposefully and sent Professor Givupemall to greet the new arrivals.

Fagrid appeared from nowhere to take charge of the newcomers at the station, apparently none the worse for his brush with the law. It was only a short walk to the school and, it seemed, there was very little by way of luggage. Garry's personal possessions consisted of a disposable lighter and a used tissue.

Half an hour later saw the newcomers stood on a large flight of stairs with Professor Givupemall standing at the top.
"Good evening", She intoned in a voice both clear and grating like scratching nails across a chalkboard. "Before we have a bite of supper and find you somewhere to sleep, you must be sorted into your houses. There are four houses in all, and they are Gumanjaw, Huffinhale, Patchenpaw and Sufferin. We will not know what house you will be in until you pick it out of the sorting hat. Its a perfectly random system and, as professors, we don't give a toss who goes where". Wheezy leaned across to Garry and said. "I've heard about Sufferin. There isn't a quit that hasn't gone disastrously wrong that wasn't in Sufferin. I think it has something to do with a phrase involving a turkey."
Garry had also heard of phrases involving turkey and he was buggered if he was going into that house. When it came to his turn to pick out of the hat, the first three came up as 'Sufferin'. 'Sod that' he thought and picked again. On the fourth attempt he got a different house. 'Could have been worse', he thought. 'Oh well, better be... Gumenjaw!'

Part VI 

Fagwarts taught Garry all about smoking. He learned things that he never wanted to know. There was even a class dedicated to methods of smoking. Professor Flicktip's first lesson, for example, was how to tap off the correct amount of ash from a filter tip. 'Swish and flick' he said as he demonstrated how it should be done. Garry felt a little strange in this environment but this class was offering free fags for homework and practice. Garry felt sure he could feign incompetence and blag at least a packet of 20 from the old codger.

Gumenjaw was the house where students would learn to quit with nicotine gum, Garry learned from Harmony Stranger - who by and large was turning out to be an encyclopedic pain in the arse. Huffinhale used some sort of nicotine inhalator, Patchenpaw used nicotine patches and Sufferin - as Donald Wheezy had correctly surmised - used nothing at all. Consequently those going cold turkey in Sufferin were generally people to avoid. None of them were at the point were quitting had started but now that they all knew what was going to happen, Garry felt that the Sufferin mob would start working out devious plans to cheat the system.

Now he was settling into his new life, Garry reflected on a conversation he had tried to have with Fagrid. Like who was it that had nominated him to go on this school thing anyway? Fagrid didn't know if it was right to tell him but somehow Garry felt that there was part of Garry's life that Fagrid knew more about. Eventually he managed to discover that his parents were friends of the headmaster but there was an old school pupil who, despite appearing to quit, had gone bad. He was the worst of all beings as far as anyone at the school was concerned. He was a supplier but he was a cut throat and a notorious cheat. One day he sold some really bad gear and it killed lots of people. Naturally there were no complaints about the stuff because anyone who tried just a puff were dead.

Garry asked Fagrid what his name was but Fagrid said they did not speak it. The whole community seemed scared of this character and would only talk about 'He who must not be framed'. This character apparently had an army of death dealers who could just as easily supply the community with fatal substances as much as feel good philters.

Not satisfied with half a story (and determined enough to keep the big galoot talking long enough to want to share his tobacco) he pressed Fagrid for the name. Eventually Fagrid capitulated. "All Right" he yelled over the boat's outboard motor. "His name was 'Soldmeshort'. It was he who killed your mum and dad and he would have killed you if you hadn't smelled a rat. Your famous Garry because you were only a year and a bit old but you smelled the nastiness in that substance and threw it back at 'you know who'. You lived to tell the tale and now you're famous because...you're 'the boy who sniffed'!

Part VII

Fogwarts turned out to be a school specialising in philosophy. Garry thought that philosophy was a pretty soft subject and he could have handled it quite easily. That was until he met his 'Notions' teacher, Professor Snipe.

Snipe lived up to his name. The professor was well aware of Garry's past - perhaps more so than even Garry knew. Now Garry was all for discussing the belly buttons of life and all that but Snipe seemed to get inside his head and bend it in all directions. The teacher asked all sorts of nasty questions like, is it right to smoke? Is it wrong to smoke? Do other people smoke without choice if we smoke nearby? Is it we who want to smoke or is there an addict running our lives instead? Snipe used every opportunity it seemed to sneer at Garry, referring to him as 'the boy who smelled', much to the amusement of the Sufferin class who they shared their lesson with. One boy in particular got right up Garry's nose and that was the twerp with silly name Bacco Foulboy. In some ways this character is unimportant to our story but its good to know there was at least one idiot Garry could pick on when he felt a bit down.

Now Professor Bumthemall had specifically told everyone to avoid a particular corridor in the building. Garry, Harmony and Donald got themselves lost one day and accidentally opened the door in question. Once they had seen the enormous dog sitting astride a trapdoor they realised that Professor Bumthemall was a very sensible man and they would not be doing that again. It was only later that Garry discovered the dog belonged to Fagrid and that the dog's name - for some strange reason - was 'Puffy'. Not that the name bore any relevance to the fact that a second later in that room and Garry's new name would have been 'Lunch'. Never the less the three students were left with a curiosity as to what actually did lie beneath that trap door?

Part VIII

Flying was easy for Garry. In fact flying was easy for most students. The cannabis from Fagrid's garden was first class stuff but they were not smoking it, oh no. This was supper!

The space cakes were part of their understanding about smoking. You did not have to smoke to get high. Eating it was much cleaner and got you to where you wanted to be if that was really your thing. On the other hand, there were also lessons to be learned about how sick people got from taking too much and how people often became both paranoid and psychotic from taking the drug in the first place.

If this wasn't enough, Professor Spliffall - who taught defense against dangerous substances - came running into the dining hall screaming "Droll! Droll in the dungeons". This, naturally, created instant panic among the students who started running all over the place. Bumthemall managed to round up the student like sheep and corralled them until the effects of the space cakes had worn off. It seemed that Spliffall had just experimented with one too many pills and suffered a psychotic episode himself. No one really saw where Snide went but his robes were torn and what looked suspiciously like a dog bite was clearly visible on his nose. As the students were coming down from their highs, it did not help that Garry and others saw Snipes seemingly detachable nose as similar to Mr Potato head. Of course they would pay for this indiscretion later. In the meantime, however, the burning notion that a dog was guarding something beyond that trap door was too much to bear. They asked every teacher who they thought might know but it seemed that only a few teachers really knew and they all said there was nothing being guarded. So what was the dog doing there? they wondered. But if they tried to ask that question they were told it was none of their business.

Part IX

Christmas arrived without ceremony. There was no snow on the ground and there was hardly enough effort in the weather system to want to rain either. For Garry this had been a complete 'non-day' for years. The most he'd ever got for Christmas was a collection of old lighters that the Butsy family had discarded as soon as they had a new one.

At least Christmas dinner was edible and pleasant. Last year his guardians had indulged far too much on the old egg nog and had accidentally thought the trifle jelly layer was an ash tray. Having stubbed out enough to cover the jelly, Mrs Butsy then proceeded to cover it with custard. Butly's only comment after eating it was how this was the first trifle he had ever had that was 'chewy'. Garry never ate trifle again.

Not many people stayed at the school. Garry did not have the funds, the wherewithal or the inclination to spend Christmas with his family. So he wandered listlessly through the school on Christmas day with nothing particular to do. It was only by luck that he stumbled across a small packet in Mr Spliffall's class that contained a powdery substance. Not knowing exactly what it was but knowing that if he asked anyone he would end up none the wiser and minus a confiscated powder, he took a sniff at it. Didn't seem like poison so he dabbed a little on his tongue. It tingled and Garry's head spun slightly. It wasn't a particularly unpleasant feeling so he tried a little more.

Suddenly he could no longer feel his limbs. He was like a spec of dust floating about in wind. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled the conversation he had with Fagrid. Garry was the boy who sniffed but this time he had sniffed something that had gotten hold of his very self control. Garry watch his mum and dad float by almost dreamily and he wished so much that they were real and with him. But they had taken drugs - just like he had now - and maybe they had been lucky for a while but in this game, Garry realised, you only had to be unlucky once.

Garry slept for almost two days. When he came around he saw a worried looking Bumthemall sitting nearby. "I see", he said in a manner that suggested nothing like 'oh thank god Garry you're still alive. I'm so pleased', "that you have enjoyed the delights of the 'glitter of hairy pets'. I presume you now know what it does". Garry thought about it for a moment and said, "It showed me what I wanted to see?" Bumthemall snorted. "It bloodywell knocked you out for best part of two days is what it does! The next time you see a powder or tablets or anything you don't know about - leave the bloody things alone!" "Oh", said Garry feeling somewhat disappointed. Then, just to chance his arm again he said, "As I have been so close to death and all that, Professor, do you fancy telling me what Puffy is guarding under the trap door?" Bumthemall slurped some excess saliva from the side of his mouth. "Nothing" he insisted and then just left.

Part X

Garry, Harmony and Donald were caught having a crafty fag after lights out. They knew not to smoke in the dormitories but it was worse to be found sneaking about outside after dark. Well if they liked the dark they could do a detention in one.

Fagrid took them to a rather seedy area in the local town. This was a kind of shock tactic used by Bumthemall for students with nocturnal wandering syndrome. Frighten the buggers half to death - under supervision of course - and they will not wander out again.

The students watched as street dealers and users found each other in darkened corners. It was almost as if the apparently deserted street was alive and writhing just beyond the periphery of ones vision. The sense was that you could feel the movement even if you could not see it. This kind of feeling was pretty effective for about half an hour but then it started to get a bit cold and Garry found himself bored and inattentive. No one actually saw him walk slightly away from the group so no one saw a hand come out of the dark and grab him by the mouth.

Garry struggled against the unseen hand until a voice close to his ear said "Long time no see Garry. My name is Des Sholmort but some people call me 'Soldmeshort'!"

Garry's heart pumped wildly and his bowels threatened to evacuate any second from now. This was the guy who had tried to kill him years ago and he was now 'face to hand' in the dark with him. Des smelled of rotten smoke and rancid spirits. It was all Garry could do to hold down the contents of his supper. Mind you he hadn't had supper yet but he would still have had trouble holding it down if he had had it. It was amazing how sensitive his sense of smell had become. Right now he prayed that he was not going to fart.

"Garry?" called a voice nearby. It was Fagrid looking for him. Was he going to get out of this alive after all? "Idiotic moron", scoffed Soldmeshort. "Tell me what you know about the philosophers drone?" Garry had never heard of such a thing but in the back of his mind a small puzzle piece offered itself as an explanation. "I don't know about any philosophers drone", replied Garry, "but whatever it is you won't get it".
"Really", Soldmeshort crooned. "And why might that be my bold little friend?"
Friend indeed, thought Garry. If there was anything that could have helped him right now it was to get angry. "Because Fagrid's dog will bite your stupid head off" he yelled.

"Garry?" called Fagrid, getting colder as he wandered further down the street.
"A dog eh?" said Soldmeshort. "Sounds like quite a stash if Faghead is guarding it with a dog".
Soldmeshort released his grip slightly and only for a moment, but it was enough for Garry to aim a short swipe firmly in the direction of Solmeshort's unguarded testicular region. The sound of purposeful contact on sudden, guaranteed pain was like music to Garry's ears. Soldmeshort folded like a deckchair and Garry ran full pelt into the light with absolutely no intention of looking back or stopping. Fagrid was stood in the middle of the road scratching his beard.
"Ah there you are", he said when Garry came running at full pelt. "Been doing a little sight seeing of your own have you?" Garry tried to get his breath back but years of smoking had sludged his lungs up. All he could do in protest was cough like a 90 year old. "There there", said Fagrid. "That's it. Cough it all up. You'll feel much better if you get it all off your chest". Absolutely, thought Garry. There was nothing more he would have liked than to get this particular story off his chest. The problem was that he could hardly breath and it would be another half an hour or so before he was in any position to converse. When it came down to the crunch, smoking had quite a few hidden down sides.

It was not until they returned to Fagwarts that Garry was able to tell Donald and Harmony about his encounter. Amazed that he was still alive they suggested that he should go and tell one of the professors immediately. It was quite late now but eventually they managed to find Professor Givupemall in rollers, flannelette nightgown and pompom slippers. Garry could contain himself no longer. It was totally the wrong time to pass wind but he had held it all the way from town. Never the less he hoped that everyone would try to ignore it as he attempted to save the school from great danger.
"Professor", he said, "the school could be in great danger".
"Whose farted?" said Wheezy
"Shut up Donald", said Garry.
"No wait a minute Mr Quitter" said Givupemall. "Mr Wheezy has a point. Somebody farted and did not apologise".
"Wasn't me!" Said Harmony, disgustedly
"I didn't say it was", said Donald, who was now waving his hands backwards and forwards.
"Look Professor", implored Garry.
"Its no good" said Givupemall. "Its too strong for me Mr Quitter. If you would kindly put your bowels into working order I will talk to you in the morning".
Garry could not believe what he was hearing. "But Professor..."
"In the morning Quitter" said Givupemall, as she wandered off to bed.
"Well that's it then", said Harmony. We might as well wait until morning.
"But we haven't got until morning" said Garry. Soldemshort is sure to come sniffing round tonight".
Donald remarked, "Not if you keep farting like that he won't"
"Shut up Donald" said Garry. "There's only one thing for it".
"What's that?" asked Harmony.
"We go down the trap door" replied Garry. "Tonight".
"You'd better change your trousers first", said Donald to Garry. "There's no way you didn't follow through."

 

Part XI

It never seems possible to walk quietly at night. It is like the floor only squeaks at night time and because it is dark it allows people to walk in a silly way, looking for all the world like a nodding albatross wading across hot coals. Garry had been foresighted enough to split the bag of 'glitter of hairy pets' before he took some himself. He couldn't have expected to see it ever again had he only taken it once and it turned out to be a wonderful experience. That it had turned out to be a bizarre trip with a two day bout of oblivion followed by a nasty head merely suggested that he was not about to use it on himself. Instead it had become the only weapon he could think of to get past Fagrid's blood thirsty pooch.

The three students found their way to the door that separated them between life and death. Garry made ready with the powder. On the count of three Donald opened the door, Harmony scoured the room with a torch and Garry was ready to throw the powder in Puffy's direction.

No one could understand why Puffy was already off her face on something quite potent. "Soldemshort is here already", said Garry. "Must be. He knew about the dog and he thinks there's some kind of stash under the trap door". This was not what they had been expecting but already they had gone too far to go back. "All right", said Garry. "I'll go first. And if we come across any trouble I want you both to know that you won't see me for dust". "Thanks a bunch!" said Harmony. "Ah come on" Garry retorted. "This guy has already tried to kill me twice. What if he gets third time lucky?" "He's got a point", said Donald who was taking the sensible precaution of using his asthma pump before descending into a dark, dank and possibly dusty cellar.

"Come on then", said Garry and he led his friends down through the trap door.

The ladder down was quite long and slippery. Strangely enough there was something growing around the ladder. It stunk and it was slimy. "Fungi" said Harmony. "Strange name for a plant said Donald. "A happy man. What's so happy about it?"
"Stupid boy", Harmony said in a soft but harsh and unforgiving tone. "Fungi, the plural of fungus. Fagrid is probably trying to grow magic mushrooms or something."

Finally they made it to the bottom of the ladder. An old lantern sat in the corner. It was alight and making eerie shadows over the wall. Cobwebs had been clearly disturbed. Someone was definitely in front of them. Up ahead there was an old door. It was a very old and heavy looking door. Not something you could easily knock down. On the floor were hundreds of keys old and new. "I bet we should be looking for a big old key", said Donald.
"I don't see why", said Harmony
"Because its a big old door" said Donald. "Stands to reason don't it"
"Not really" said Harmony, "I mean ..."
"Look", said Donald, filling his manly chest with half an inch of air and then coughing. When he could speak again he said, "If you don't want to help us look for the key to this door why don't you just go back?"
"Why should I" said Harmony, "when I can still go forward" and with that she opened the door and walked through.
"Duh! it was unlocked!" said Garry.

The next room was empty apart from one item in the middle. "Its a chess board", said Donald. "What are we meant to do here".
Garry looked at Donald as if he were mad. "We haven't got time for games now", he said, "What we do is we go through the next door."
Donald started to get a bit upset. Garry was his friend but sometimes he could be such an asshole. "Up yours then!" Donald retorted and turned around to storm out in a sort of grand exit. Unfortunately he did not see that he had trodden on his own shoelaces - so it looked to Garry and Harmony that he had shouted his defiance at Garry, turned around and hit the floor like a sack of spuds. Harmony knelt down. "He's out cold" she said. "Oh great" sighed Garry. He looked at Harmony for a moment. "I don't suppose you would carry on..."
Harmony looked incredulous. "What, and leave Donald here alone? Oh you're all heart you!"
"All right all right!" Garry held his hands up. "Bad idea. So I'll just er..."
"Yeah", said Harmony, "You just go and find out what's behind that door".
"Right" said Garry. "Um... any last thoughts?"
"Yes" said Harmony, giving Garry her best worried and concerned look. "I don't suppose you got a spare fag on you eh?"

Part XII

The corridor beyond the last door was small, dark and about as interesting as something you would hardly notice even in passing. But the light at the end of this corridor, implying that something was definitely just out of sight, made the idea of spending more time examining the professional laying of bricks and mortar somewhat rather attractive. 'No', thought Garry to himself. He could not delay this any longer. If it was his fate to meet his doom at the end of this short corridor then so be it. A few minutes later would not change his life. A few hours maybe, in broad daylight and with a posse of police, teachers and a few muscle boys... No. In a few hours time it would be too late and Soldmeshort would have the philosopher's drone - whatever that was.

Garry plucked up his courage and took the last few steps towards the yellow light. As he turned the corner he was amazed to see...
"Professor Spliffall!"
"Ah its Quitter" said the professor of defence against dangerous substances. "Perhaps you were expecting someone else?"
Garry was awash with this sudden turn of events "But... but not you. Snipe!"
"Snipe's all mouth and no action", Spliffall retorted. "OK. So he didn't fall for my 'Droll in the dungeons' routine and he cut me off when I was going to get past that stupid dog but he was never going to stop me"
Garry was quickly reassessing his view of the world. Everything he believed turned out to be untrue . How often did this happen? Had he lived a lie for so long? Clearly Snipe was not involved in all this but where was...
"Soldemshort!", said Garry. "Where..."
Spliffall laughed. "Oh come on Mr Quitter. The man himself is hardly going to investigate a stash himself is he? I mean he's a busy man. Now what is in this room that is so valuable?"
Garry looked around the room properly for the first time. The ceiling might once have been painted white but the cobwebs gave it a dull grey look. The walls were plain brick and years without use had left a fine film of brick dust on the floor. The room measured no more than fifteen foot square. There was one way in and out. In short the room was empty except for Professor Spliffall and Garry Quitter.
"What is in this room?" Professor Spliffall shouted at Garry. And it was then that the penny dropped in Garry's mind. Suddenly it all made sense. The school was designed to help people stop smoking but it could only help people who want to stop.

Most of the time people have barriers that prevent them from truly wanting to stop. These barriers can be quite vicious and vehemently protected - like Puffy the dog.

And then there are all the alternative arguments that makes smoking tobacco sound less harmful. I mean there are loads of people smoking cannabis or taking magic mushrooms or worse. Why pick on the poor old tobacco smoker? And it is this kind of thinking that sends us down deeper into the protection of our dark and blinkered minds.

Then, of course, is the thought that you will never be able to quit. It is too hard and it might be all right for others but the conventional routes are all blocked for you - even when the door to the way forward is clearly open.

Of course, you know you should quit but you can't for the life of you work out what is stopping you. It seems like too much of a battle to make the effort, which you would probably lose. After all its an addiction and, like a game of chess, you feel you're gonna get out maneuvered. But the truth is that there is no game.

And if you do manage to overcome all of these obstacles there is a room containing all the other excuses that you can possibly come up with - knowing full well that every single excuse has no foundation in fact whatsoever.

Garry's mind came swimming back to his present position. He was still laughing and Professor Spliffall was beside himself with rage. "What is in this room Quitter?"
Garry responded with conviction, "Nothing. Nothing at all." Professor Bumthemall had told him the truth all along. He just hadn't listened properly.

Part XIII

The police escorted Spliffall from the school premises and a crowd of curious students looked on. Wheezy had got a bump on the head but other than a slight headache was going to be all right. Harmony was looking at Garry in a slightly different way this morning that made him wonder if he was safe enough to cop a feel later.

Professor Bumthemall allowed Garry to tell his version of the story from start to finish, interrupting only for clarification. When Garry finished, Bumthemall said, "So did you find the philosopher's drone then?"
Garry thought about it for a moment and said, "Yes I think I did. It wasn't out there somewhere but in my own head".
"Precisely!" said Bumthemall. "The voice of our conscience and the life that we choose to lead makes up the philosophy of our lives. When we do something that is not quite right, we know it but we choose to ignore the voice that goes on and on. After a while it becomes a drone - and drones in another world are slaves to the master. When we smoke it is the cigarette that becomes the master and we the slave. It is only when we understand this that we start to listen to the philosopher's drone and act on it.

Later that day Garry met up with Harmony and Donald who, apart from a bandaged head, looked fine. The sun had set quite some time ago and the January air threatened the likelihood of snow. It was then that Garry realised that he had not smoked a cigarette all day. He fumbled around in his pocket but found only his lighter. Harmony held out what looked like the end of a packet of 20. Garry took one and placed it expertly to his lips.
"You know its funny", he said to his companions. "Smoking becomes second nature so easily that we hardly notice we are doing it". Garry took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at it closely. "And if we don't notice we are doing it" he considered, "then why are we doing it at all?"
"Its just a habit", said Donald.
"Yeah, a habit" said Harmony
"Not anymore for me" said Garry, giving Harmony the cigarette back.

It was a funny sensation, knowing that he had just made a decision that would not only save his life in the long run but also improve the quality of it. Despite the cold of the evening air, Garry felt a little warm feeling.
"Whose farted?" said Donald.