My tobacco is disappearing, and after exhaustive investigation, I now know why: Tobacco vampires. It was difficult to believe at first, but my research has provided hard data sets that are impossible to interpret otherwise. The results may be frightening, but the fact remains that tobacco vampires are rampaging through the countryside and no pipe smoker's tobacco cellar is safe.
My suspicions were aroused when I noticed that every time I go back to an open tin for a fresh smoke, there is a little less tobacco waiting. I started weighing the tins whenever I filled a bowl, and they were each missing 4-5 grams of tobacco on each occasion. It's a gradual reduction, easy for people to miss, but with my extraordinary perception, and by running datum through custom algorithms that only I can comprehend, I quickly found the problem.
Lurking in the depths of blackest night is a creature so pernicious, so despicable, so insidious that it has been nearly impossible for the human mind to accept. However, as repulsive as the concept may be, as much as we'd like to repress reality, our nightmare does indeed exist as the very embodiment of evil. It is known as the dreaded tobacco vampire.
They slip through the tiniest gaps in windows and doors, entering an unsuspecting pipe smoker's home to ransack the tobacco cellar, absconding with a portion of the tobacco in every open tin, evading discovery by taking only a little at a time.
Never has a tobacco vampire been captured, and they've been witnessed only on preternaturally rare occasions. I am among the few who have seen one and survived, perhaps because it was the briefest of peripheral glances, caught in the bathroom mirror as I was passing. I'm not sure if our lives are in danger, but our safety is of relative unimportance compared with the threat to our tobacco.
Tobacco vampires are covered in coarse, oily gray hair matted to their abhorrently misshapen bodies, and, I infer, they can ooze, walk or slime through any environment, or drift in a cloud of noxious smoke, depending on their mood.
After seeing one of these creatures, I was horrified and immediately wrote down its description. Tobacco vampires are covered in coarse, oily gray hair matted to their abhorrently misshapen bodies, and, I infer, they can ooze, walk or slime through any environment, or drift in a cloud of noxious smoke, depending on their mood. They are virtually invisible when it suits them, and the best way to detect one is by smell, recognizable by its nauseating mélange of sulfur, spoiled fish, and bleach. That odor is similar to the way my cousin Burnwound smells after his weekly rolls in the compost, so I'm predisposed to its detection.
Sadly, my home was again attacked last night. I didn't see the vampire, but I noticed today that there is less tobacco in my open tins than previously and, as always, the terrible odor lingered throughout the house and didn't fade until after my morning coffee and shower. So there were vampires in my home last night, that is certain.
They may have raided you as well. I advise keeping watch on your tobacco. I've not yet found how to repel these creatures, but I'll report when I do.
By the way, your spouse may be more helpful than you expect. I told my wife that I'll be buying lots more tobacco to keep pace with these siphoning scumbag vampires, and she seemed unsurprised. "I can relate," she said. "Some dastardly creature has been leaving socks and full ashtrays around the house for 30 years."
So it's now incontrovertible: These creatures come in different species, with different specialties, and they're everywhere. "The problem is even worse than I thought," I said. "I'm boarding up the windows."