I was bored. I needed an adventure to liven things up a bit. I sat in my bamboo chair overlooking the Mediterranean, sipping fine cognac, and smoking a Padron 1926. I dressed accordingly and then stood on the veranda and closed my eyes. I found myself in Boca Raton, Florida. Well, this was certainly a good start. I noticed a newspaper machine and the paper said it was Dec. 18, 2069.
Standing in front of me was an old man with a bent cigarette hanging out of his mouth and leaning against a steel post that supported the awning. This guy looked very familiar. I looked above where he was standing and it said, "Shalom Center for the Elderly."
I introduced myself to the man. He replied that he was Keith Richards.
"Of the Rolling Stones?" I asked.
"Yup."
I did the math and stated that “You are 126 years old. How could that be?"
"Me and the lads did some dabbling in some things in our youth...that's all I will say."
He may have dabbled but he didn't look a day older than 130. Keith motioned for me to sit at an outdoor table as the cigarette ash fell on his shirt. He still wore his traditional bandana around his head, but he was bald.
At exactly the same time, we reached into our own pockets and brought out cigars to offer the other. He nodded and said, "Cheers."
"Are the other boys alive?"
"Yup. They're all here."
"But why here?" I asked. "Because they make the best brisket and matzoh ball soup I've ever tasted."
Rolling Stones Mick, Charlie Watts and Ronnie Wood joined us. These guys must have made a pact with the devil. Cigars were passed around. They were smoking Rocky Patel Next Generation XXXVI.
Chit chat was minimal as they all had trouble speaking without their dentures falling out.
I made a bold proposal. "How about reuniting and do one last tour?" Mick and Charlie had fallen asleep. Keith's eyes lit up.
"We haven't toured in 58 years, mate. That might be a hoot!" I also suggested that the world would be honored if they all helped develop a legacy cigar. Mick opened his eyes long enough to nod his head in agreement and then it dropped and loud snoring began.
I will produce and manage the tour." Keith kicked the rest of them and they nodded their heads in agreement.
But we need a new bassist, mate." I knew just the man. Jerry "Bear" Darling. He played a 15 string bass guitar and was a monster.
A week later, I brought in some of the best cigar makers in the world to meet with us. I had the community room cleared and long fold-up tables brought in.
The cigar designers had already brought in several cigars that they had hoped would get the stamp of approval as the official cigar of the Stones. We sat there all morning trying different blends. And then it happened, Jose-Jose Dominguez Flores Cha-Cha presented a cigar that woke up Mick and Charlie.
The cigar was called Final Blend. I laughed. The boys looked at me but didn't get it. The stick was full of Dominican, Colombian and Indonesian filler and binder. It was wrapped in a gorgeous chocolate brown, oily Brazilian Mata Fina Oscuro wrapper. The construction was gorgeous. Almost vein free, like Keith's arms. It was very firm and felt balanced in the hand.
We all lit up and instantly the taste of sweet tobacco and coffee bean swathed the palate. It was earthy. The body was mild. We had hired “Bear” and since he was only 91, his job at this function was to keep the boys awake, so he circled that table giving small slaps to the back of the head of the napping boys.
Mick's cigar kept falling in his lap. Each time it did, his head became erect and he smiled with those huge lips. Bear quickly put the cigar back in his mouth.
About an inch in, I could taste some mild spice in the back of my throat. Very pleasant. The taste remained static until the halfway point and then a complex array of flavors spewed forth.A wonderful creaminess mixed with a hint of coffee bean and cocoa. The wrapper gave off an oily taste that had all the boys smacking their gums.The rest of the cigar was an interplay of the aforementioned flavors and got creamier and creamier while maintaining a medium body with full flavor. The last third ramped up with flavors but never harsh or hot.
The boys put their stamp of approval on the Final Blend as their official cigar.
* * *
It was opening night and we had hired several roadies whose sole job was to aid their assigned Stone. The crowd went wild when the Stones were wheeled on to the stage. All had special wheelchairs configured so they could hold their guitars. Charlie had a special walker that allowed him to hit the only drum on stage..a snare drum. They had tried adding a bass drum but every time Charlie hit the foot pedal, he fell backwards.
Behind the stage was a huge banner with the famous lips but with a Final Blend cigar protruding from them.
They surged into "Satisfaction" but Bear couldn't get his bass to make any sound. A roadie ran out and helped him turn the volume knob on his bass. Bear thanked him and then went on to play "Money" by Pink Floyd.It was a 3 hour concert but only 4 songs were played. Keeping them awake was a *****. The crowd especially loved it when Mick did his strut and dropped his pants showing off his adult diaper with the lips on the back. Keith did the same thing but had forgotten to put his diaper on.
With the dropping of his trousers, his 126 year old balls actually hit the ground. Bear came running and did his best to pull Keith's pants up while scooping up ancient testicles that had a mind of their own.
I grabbed a couple boxes of Final Blend and left the arena by the back door. My work was done.
