I Have a Problem with Smoking

I cite a brilliant Farside comic:

Two bears are in the woods. They are standing over a dead hunter.

One Bear is pointing at the gun the other Bear is holding, obviously just having said something.

The other Bear replies indignantly: "Thunderstick? You actually said Thunderstick? That, my friend, is a Winchester 30.06!"

I was walking along campus one day this week, sun was shining and all was glorious. Suddenly this guy cuts in front of me, leaving a cloud of smoke in my face. I turn to look at him to give the fellow a passing glance as I continued walking. Here are exactly my thoughts:

Blasted thunderstick.
No...wait, can't be right. Not a thunderstick, it's a...
It's a firestick!
...blasted firestick.

I then stopped walking and wondered aloud, "Did I just call a cigarette a firestick?"

Undoubtedly I had. And as I began walking once more, I had to come to grips with the fact that I just veritably channeled the incarnate Gary Larson. It was pretty strange. And incredibly demonstrative of how wacked out my mind is.

My wacked out mind and my love of all things Gary Larson, this I give to you today.