Holly’s Non Plus Ultra – Review.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just turned 11. It was winter in the old country and my friends Nikolai, Vladimir, Stanislav and I were all armed with snowballs. We were all looking for trouble and adventure and we found it soon enough!
“Let’s go to Baba Yaga’s house and throw our snowballs at her”, I suggested.
“Good idea”. Nikolai shouted. “The old witch deserves it.”
Her house was a little more than half a kilometer away from us and as we approached, we heard her scream “Fire”!
We bounded into the house, laden with our snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room. Something was burning alright; perhaps she had been careless with her pipe again. It was not the first time. There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Baba Yaga smacking at the smoke with an old broom.
“Do something.” She barked.
And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke—I think we missed Baba Yaga and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
“Let’s call the police as well.” Vladmir said.
“And the ambulance”
“And Alexander Rozhenko, he likes fires.”
But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house. Baba Yaga got out just in time before they turned it on.
Did the smoldering carpet remind me of Holly’s Non Plus Ultra tobacco? No! It was the smell of one of the firemen who obviously forgot to put on his deodorant that day.
The memory haunts me to this very day.
I recently smoked Holly's Non Plus and my advice is: Don’t try it!
I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just turned 11. It was winter in the old country and my friends Nikolai, Vladimir, Stanislav and I were all armed with snowballs. We were all looking for trouble and adventure and we found it soon enough!
“Let’s go to Baba Yaga’s house and throw our snowballs at her”, I suggested.
“Good idea”. Nikolai shouted. “The old witch deserves it.”
Her house was a little more than half a kilometer away from us and as we approached, we heard her scream “Fire”!
We bounded into the house, laden with our snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room. Something was burning alright; perhaps she had been careless with her pipe again. It was not the first time. There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Baba Yaga smacking at the smoke with an old broom.
“Do something.” She barked.
And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke—I think we missed Baba Yaga and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
“Let’s call the police as well.” Vladmir said.
“And the ambulance”
“And Alexander Rozhenko, he likes fires.”
But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house. Baba Yaga got out just in time before they turned it on.
Did the smoldering carpet remind me of Holly’s Non Plus Ultra tobacco? No! It was the smell of one of the firemen who obviously forgot to put on his deodorant that day.
The memory haunts me to this very day.
I recently smoked Holly's Non Plus and my advice is: Don’t try it!
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