I would like to personally thank Jay Young for his original story that inspired this mini novella, and to Sze Fan Chan whose artwork really brought the story to life.   
 
A group of men, no particular age group are milling around in front of a hotel complex in South Florida. They show a preponderance for cigars and facial hair. A man in a pressed set of Cuban army fatigues and a Smokey Bear hat strides up to the assembled group. A  small bus pulls up to the curb near the group. 

"ALRIGHT, YEW MAGGOTS! FORM UP ON THAT LINE!" the man in khaki shouts. The men form a ragged line following a stripe on the parking lot. The man in khaki addresses them again. 
 
"I am Gunnery Sergeant Saka, your Cigar Tour Director. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "Sir!". Do you maggots understand that?" 

There some puzzled looks around, and a half-hearted "Sir, yes sir." in 3 different volumes and octaves. 

"BULLSHIT" Saka screams, "Sound off like you've got a pair!" 
"SIR, yes, sir!" the groups shouts in unison. Saka continues his address. 
"If you ladies leave this tour, if you survive the Special High Intensity Training you will receive ... you will be a weapon, you  will be a Minister of Smoke, praying for the end of the Embargo.  But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even  human beings! You are nothing but  unorganized grabasstic short-filler Tampa Nuggets! 
"Because I am hard, you will not like me. But  the more you hate me, the more you will  learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on  trollers, lurkers, or cross-posters. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved ASC! Do you maggots understand that?" 
"Sir, yes, sir!" the group shouts. 
"Bullshit! I can't hear you." 
"SIR, yes, sir!" the group shouts in unison. A small crowd is gathering in front of the hotel, watching. They wisely decide to watch the proceedings from the safety of the hotel lobby. 
Saka looks up and down the line. He walks up to one of the men. "What's your excuse, Private?" 
"Sir, excuse for what, sir?" the puzzled ASCer replies, removing a stogie from his mouth. 
"I'm asking the questions here, Private. Do you understand?!" 
"Sir, yes, sir!" the Private replies, staring straight ahead. 
"Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?" 
"Sir, yes, sir!" 
"Are you shook up? Are you nervous?" Saka asks, looking at the ASCer with narrowed eyes. 
"Sir, I am, sir!" the ASCer says. 
"Do I make you nervous?" 
"Sir! No, sir!" 
"Private, you look like a sheep who accidentally wandered into Hunter Wilson's house on a Friday night!" Saka continues down the line of ASCers. He stops in front a spectacled, bearded individual with a Puros Indios hanging from his teeth. 
"Did your parents have any children that lived?"  Saka shouts, his nose only inches from the ash of the Indios. 
"Sir, yes, sir!" the private shouts. 
"I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece!" Saka continues down the line, looking each ASCer up and down. As he passes one ASCer, the ash from the ASCer's cigar drops to the ground. Saka looks at the offending ash, then back up at the ASCer. 
"Private! What the hell are you smoking?", he shouts. 
"Sir! Bauza Presidente, Sir!" 
"Marvin H. Shanken on a skateboard! A Presidente! A short filler cigar on MY tour?! What's your name, Private?" Saka shouts, the blast from his yelling  flipping back the offending ASCer's toupee. 
From down at the end of the line a low voice stage-whispers... "Is that you, Arturo Fuente? Is this me?" 
Saka looks to the end of the line in anger. He strides quickly to the end, shouting. "Who said that? Who the golf said that? Who's  the slimy little communist shit twinkle-toed Drugstore-cigar-sucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy-golfing-godmother said it! Outstanding! I will make you maggots smoke Matacans  until you all  die! I'll gouge out your eyes with a Monte #2 and use your skull for an ashtray!" Saka glares at the ASCers at the end of the line. 
"Sir, I said it, sir!" says a tall man with a Partagas #10 in-hand. 
"Well ...no shit. What have we got here, a golfing comedian? Private FunnyBoy? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house to smoke my Cohibas and have sex with  my sister." Saka grabs the Partagas and breaks it in two, throwing it down on the asphalt. 
"On your face and give me 20, FunnyBoy!" Saka screams. FunnyBoy drops to the ground and starts grinding out push-ups as Saka yells down to him. "You little scumbag! I've got your username! I've got your URL! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by to post according to the FAQ. I will teach you. You will understand absolute and relative humidity. Now get up! Get on your feet! You  had best get the PG/ H20 ratios straight or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck! 
"Sir, yes, Sir!" 
"Private FunnyBoy, why did you join my beloved Tour?" 
"Sir, to enjoy the company of other ASCers and to make the pilgrimage to El Credito, Sir!" 
"Then get your ass on the bus," Saka shouts. "Everyone on the bus. Fall out!" 

The ASCers file quickly onto the bus. Saka brings up the rear. The bus pulls away from the curb and starts toward Calle Ocho. Saka patrols down the aisle of the bus, inspecting the troops. Saka freezes. He reaches down and slowly picks  a Swisher Sweet from one of the ASCers shirtpocket, holding it in disgust at arm's  length with his fingertips. 
"Holy Jesus! What is that? What the golf is this,  Private Dogrocket?! "Sir, a Swisher, Sir! 
"A Swisher?!" Saka asks, incredulously. 
"Sir, yes, Sir!" 
"How did it get here?" 
"Sir, I got it from the gift shop in the lobby, Sir!" 
"Are Swishers allowed on this tour, Private Dogrocket?" 
"Sir, no, Sir!" 
"Are Swishers considered REAL cigars?" 
"Sir, no, Sir!" 
"Then why did you bring a Swisher Sweet on this tour, Private Dogrocket?" 
"Sir, because I like them, Sir!" 
"Because you like them?" Holding out the Swisher, Saka walks down the aisle of the bus. "Private Dogrocket has dishonored himself and dishonored the ASC! I have tried to help him, but I have failed! I have failed because you have not helped me! You people have not given Private Dogrocket the proper motivation!  So, from now on, whenever Private Dogrocket golfs up, I will not punish him, I will punish all of you! And the way I see it, ladies, you  owe me for one Swisher Sweet!" Saka pulls out a bundle of Te-Amo rejects and starts passing them out. "Alright, ladies, Light 'em up. Private Dogrocket, Enjoy that Swisher." 

Evil looks are cast upon the tourist with the Swisher as the rest of the bus puffed on the evil Mexican cigars. Clouds of acrid smoke follows the bus as it makes it's way into the depths of the Mosquito Coast, heading for the Promised Land. 

Long drawn-out account of the ASCers standing at attention during the tour omitted to conserve bandwidth. The ASCers have acquired some LGCs and are preparing for lunch. 

"Today... you pukes will take tiffin with your LGCs! You will give your LGC a girl's name, because this is the only companionship you people are  going to get! Your days of  1-900-number-calling  and lap dances are over. No more trips out to the corral to part the wool. You're married to this stogie, this sculpture of wrapper and filler! And you will be faithful! Prepare to Lunch!"  Saka calls to the troops. 

As plates of plantains and tostones and mofongo and cuban sandwiches and black beans & rice are placed before the ASCers, Saka calls for a word of prayer. The ASCers begin in unison: 

"This is my Cigar. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My Cigar is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it, as I must master my life. Without me, my stogie is useless. Without my stogie, I am useless. I must smoke my stogie until the ashes fall behind my teeth. I must clip my stogie straight, and I must light my stogie with skill. I will smoke in cigar-friendly restaurants and on the back porch of my house and in my garage. I will always carry a low-priced smoke to bestow upon an admiring wanna-be. I will strive to be a credit to all cigar smokers and ASC. Before God I swear this creed. My stogie and myself are defenders of ASC and the One True FAQ. We are the masters of our enemies, the Crossposters and the Spammers. We are the essence of ASC. So be it... until there no sheepers ... but peace. Amen. 

After Lunch we find our group in Special High Intensity Training class #5 - Lighters.  

"The deadliest weapon in the world is an ASCer and his lighter. It is your smokers instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in a world Zippos and paper matches. Your lighter is only a tool. It is a strong lung that smokes. If your smoker's instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at  the moment of truth. You will not smoke after a fine meal. You will become a wimp. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because you will post to ASC about how you were intimidated by some weasel of a Maitreëd. And this cannot be permitted. Because ASCers MUST smoke without permission! Do you  maggots understand?" Saka looks around at his troop. He zeroes in on a ASCer with a steady glare. 
"Private Dogrocket, Have you ever let a restaurant manager stop you from smoking a fine cigar in an establishment that did not have a posted 'No cigar or pipe' policy?" 
"Sir, no Sir." Dogrocket replies. 
"No what? You didn't smoke, or you let them stop you? What's your problem, Dogrocket? Don't you understand what I'm asking? Are you implying I cannot convey my questions in such a way that a low-life, scum sucking, anal-retentive, neo-Nazi deviate, White Owl smoking Mothergolfer like you will understand?" 
"Sir, negative, Sir!!! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong! And the Cigar Tour Director will beat him harder if he reverses himself, Sir!" 
Saka takes two steps back and regards the tourist. "Private Dogrocket, you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cuff links ... or I will definitely golf you up!" 

We will draw the curtain of charity upon the rest of this scene. 

It is now 5:30 pm on a hot October afternoon in Miami. The bus pulls up to the curb at the hotel. Director Saka is first off the bus and stands at attention beside the door. The ASCers begin marching off the bus, standing straight, heads up, LGCs lit. Director Saka leads them in cadence.  

Saka: "I don't want a Philly Blunt"
ASCers: "I don't want a Philly Blunt"

Saka: "That's a stick for a commie runt." 
ASCers: "That's a stick for a commie runt." 

Saka: "If I die in a No Smoking Zone"
ASCers: "If I die in a No Smoking Zone"

Saka: "Box me up and ship me home." 
ASCers: "Box me up and ship me home."

Saka: "Put a box of Fuentes on my chest"
ASCers: "Put a box of Fuentes on my chest"

Saka: "Tell my Mom I did my best." 
ASCers: "Tell my Mom I did my best."

The ASCers head to their vehicles, taxis or shuttlebuses. Saka smiles, knowing he has done his job, enriching the lives of people who spend too much time behind a keyboard. Getting them out into the sunshine of South Florida. He mentally counts the departing crowd....then looks back on the bus. Two of the ASCers are still in the back of the bus. Saka moves down the aisle. 

Dogrocket and Funnyboy are sitting in the back, each smoking an Antonio y Cleopatra. Saka is speechless. He sputters and fumes. 

"Private Dogrocket! What in the hell are you doing? Why are you animals still on this bus? What do you think you are smoking? Private Funnyboy, Why aren't you stomping Private Dogrocket's guts out? ANSWER ME!!!" Saka screams, about to go into  full shit-hemorrhage. 

Dogrocket has a goofy grin on his face and he holds out an AyC for Saka. Saka looks at it, his face turning through the full color spectrum from Ultra-Violent to Infra-Dig. He finally regains composure. 

"Ah....Golf it!" He takes the proffered stogie, bites the end off and lights up, blowing a plume of smoke up into the already thick air in the bus. "Man...if Moses had one of these there would have been another commandment." Saka comments. 

"Hey, It's still better than the absolute BEST cigarette..." 

Saka looks at Funnyboy. "Yeah...." He takes a long pull at the cigar. "You got that right."