At a nursing home, two elderly women, Ethel and Vivian, are smoking outside on their balcony.
It starts raining, and Ethel pulls a thin rubber tube out of her purse and carefully slips it over the lit end of her cigarette.
“What is that?” Vivian asks her.
“A condom. I just snipped the tip off with my sewing scissors,” Ethel says. “I picked it up in town last week.”
“What the hell is a condom doing on your cigarette?” Vivian asks.
“Keeping it dry.” Ethel takes another drag and the tip of her cigarette burns red in the rain.
Vivian holds up her limp cigarette, “I’m getting one of those tomorrow.”
The next day Vivian takes the bus into town and walks into the corner store, straight up to the young man standing behind the counter.
“Hi Vivian,” the man says, “Ready for another pack of cigarettes?”
“No, Sam, not today.”
“Well then, what can I do you for?”
“I need a condom.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam’s face turns bright red, “A whole carton?”
“No, Sam. A Con. Dum. I need a condom. ”
“Well, uh okay, what kind of condom were you looking for?” he clears his throat and he starts looking through the boxes of protection behind the counter, “What um, size do you need?”
“Well I don’t know, Sam,” she says, “I’ll take anything that’ll fit a Camel.”