Nobody Likes Them -- What a Drag!

By Rick Horowitz

In the land where smoke rings filled the skies and nicotine raindrops dripped from every cloud, there once stood a vast and mighty fortress, and inside this fortress lived the Lords of the Leaf.

They were titans in their time, these Lords of the Leaf, and masters of all they surveyed. They bore royal names -- Lorillard, Brown & Williamson, Philip Morris, RJR -- and they received royal treatment from all who dealt with them. The highest of the high, the elected, would come before them with bended knee and outstretched hand, eager to do their bidding. The common people offered up their hearts, and also their lungs.

The Lords of the Leaf liked it that way. They liked it just fine.

From time to time, a small disturbance would arise in the land. "The Lords of the Leaf are not good for us," a tiny voice would whisper. "They do not have our well-being uppermost in their minds." When the breeze carried these words to them, the Lords of the Leaf would smile. Then they would snap their fingers, and the whispers -- and the whisperers -- would vanish into a billow of gray, never to emerge.

"With enough smoke," the Lords of the Leaf reassured themselves, "we can make anything disappear." And this was true.

Then one day, when the smoke was especially thick and the nicotine was a downpour, the Lords of the Leaf snapped their fingers to make a lawsuit disappear. This had always worked before, but on this day, when they snapped their fingers, nothing happened. The lawsuit remained standing before them. They snapped. And snapped. And snapped again.

"Be gone!" they thundered. "Have you no respect for the Lords of the Leaf?" But the lawsuit never flinched.

The breeze carried news of this unthinkable occurrence far beyond the fortress walls. Soon there was another lawsuit standing before them, and soon after that, another. Snap as they might, the Lords of the Leaf were unable to make them disappear. Finally, with much sighing of sighs and groaning of groans, the Lords of the Leaf went to their secret treasure chest, turned the golden key and threw back the lid. There was more money there than anyone had ever seen.

"Take it all!" said the Lords of the Leaf. (They neglected to mention the dozens of other treasure chests hidden elsewhere in the fortress.) "Take it all, on one condition: that this is the last we ever hear of you, or of anyone like you." And to make sure they would never be bothered by such lawsuits again, the Lords of the Leaf summoned the highest of the high, those who had always come with bended knee and outstretched hand, to render this agreement into law.

But those they summoned had other ideas. The highest of the high had observed the Lords of the Leaf over many years. They had grown tired of them, of their arrogant airs and deceitful ways. Indeed, some who had been most steadfast in their loyalties now had anger on their tongues, and worse than anger: disdain.

"We shall decide what is in this agreement," declared the highest of the high. "You will give us more of your money. You will stay even farther away from our children. And should the lawsuits come again? Deal with it."

The Lords of the Leaf were outraged. Never had anyone spoken to them in such a manner. What was the point of being Lords of the Leaf if the rest of the world didn't quake at their very presence? There was nothing to be gained by talking any further.

"This agreement," they declared, "is dead."

And no one knew more about dead than the Lords of the Leaf.

4/7/98