Atilla the Hun rattled the tiny bottle of Zyban tablets and stomped through the puddles of blood from the latest village massacre. "Smoking," his doctor assured him, "will kill you, Attie, pal." Clogs your arteries, puts a strain on your heart, affects your breathing capacity. Atilla could face that. It was people. People irritated the crap out of him, with all their friggin’ political correctness.
I mean jeez, they stare, and they give you that condescending look as you light up, and that little sneer. "Oh, you smoke. You’re going to smoke here? It’s not enough you sacked our village, raped our cattle, swept down from the steppes of Asia to wipe out European civilization, but you’re going to give me cancer by breathing that next to me?" Self-righteous creeps, thought Atilla. Gimme a break.
Only a couple of weeks ago, before the doc gave him the prescription for Zyban, he was busy beheading a particularly rough customer in Germany and had reached for his pack.
"Ummm, excuse me, Your Highness, All Powerful One, Scourge of God," said one of the cowering little courtiers. "But this is, uh, a non-smoking palace."
"Let me get this straight," snapped Atilla, blowing smoke in the man’s face. "You Germans are giving me attitude? What, you going on a little power trip here, bud? You think anyone’s ever going to be afraid of Germany? I mean really!"
But when Atilla turned to the boys in his crew, they looked away, mildly embarrassed over his "nasty habit" of three packs a day – even Olaf, who collected ears but didn’t even bother to wash them before he put them on his necklace. Then one of the littlest Huns held up the Zyban as a hint.
With Zyban, Atilla the Hun Quickly Slashes… His Smoking
As his doctor wrote out the Zyban prescription, Atilla felt his nerves crumbling away. "Olaf!" he shouted across the tent. "How many times have I told you to clean out the cappuccino machine?"
He turned to his doctor with almost a plea in his voice. "Help me, Doc! I know I shouldn’t snap. I’ll get him a puppy tomorrow. Look, if I give up smoking that means I give up smoking breaks! You get the best gossip in the office from smokers who go outside the tent. I’m telling you, Human Resources is there, Payroll, they all dish at 10:30 am and 3:30 in the afternoon!"
"Attie, try to focus here," said the doctor. "Hey, do I capitalize ‘the’ in your name? I never know for the insurance forms." Atilla showed him how to write it, and the doctor added, "Listen, Zyban is ideal for you. Most people taking Zyban quit smoking in their second week. Don’t you need both hands free when you’re chopping and slicing limbs? You don’t want to be puffing on a ciggie and get distracted in a sword fight."
"We’re taking over France next week," said Atilla. "You think they’ll put up much of a fight? What do they got to defend themselves with? Cheese?"
The Advantages of Zyban and an Active Pillaging Lifestyle
"Okay, forget that angle," the doc tried again. "You’re really irritable trying to quit on your own. But Zyban doesn’t have any nicotine in it. So when you stop taking Zyban, you won’t have any withdrawal effects. You can also use it with other nicotine replacement products like patches or gum – but you should consult with me first."
"Don’t worry, I don’t chew gum," replied Atilla. "It’s bad for the image. Nobody takes me seriously when I use it. They think you’re a teenager in a leather jacket or something."
"Then Zyban should be perfect for your lifestyle choice," said the doctor.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" barked Atilla. "Just what are you implying, Doc? I talked through those issues in therapy! And I did speak to my mother last week, by the way, Mr. Know-it-All!"
"I meant pillaging, burning, looting!" added the doctor quickly. "You’ll probably take Zyban twice a day for seven to twelve weeks, but your hordes only take a village once a day, right?"
"Well, if the village has a pool, sometimes longer."
"Fair enough," said the doctor. "You’re a busy guy, I know. Now, Zyban causes sleeplessness at first, so try not to take it near bedtime. You should even keep smoking for the first week after you start Zyban – that’s until the drug reaches higher levels in your bloodstream. Then you can stop the next week."
"I guess I’m doing the right thing," said Atilla. "You know I really took up smoking as a teenager because I thought it was cool. But then I grew up and matured and realized the only real cool thing in life was riding in a great horde and massacring large urban populations."
"Umm, yeah… well, we all feel that way," said the doctor carefully. "I’m telling you, Attie, Zyban will change your life."
"I’m glad," Atilla sighed in relief. "I was so sick of being a social pariah because of my habit."
Atilla the Hun clapped his doctor on the back, as his physician wrote a prescription of Zyban for him. I do feel better, thought Atilla. No more dirty looks, no more snide comments and patronizing remarks.
Just then, however, Olaf and several other Huns marched up to him.
"What’s this all about?" asked Atilla.
"Boss, we all talked about it… and we feel we should really go vegan."
Atilla the Hun groaned. It was always friggin’ something. God, he needed a cigarette. Or a Zyban. He was ready to start his treatment now.
"And we want to talk to you about opening a daycare," said Olaf.
