He would sit in the corner of the dim room in his army green threadbare velour recliner with the broken wooden handle and puff great clouds of smoke into the room. His age-spotted, veiny hands clutched the brown phallic thing and raised it triumphantly to his lips where it hung out of his down-turned mouth, semi-erect. He would chew thoughtfully on it and pull the soggy end out of his mouth again and back to the ashtray. The sweet thick odor clung to everything including the white frilly dress her grandmother would take off of her and hang in the closet with the rest of her tiny clothes.