Kahlua Robusto (yeah, that's right)

Let this be a warning to you. The flavored cigars really are as nasty as you think they are.

I'll be damned if this thing didn't smell nice unlit and the price was reasonable enough. Hell, it's a Drew Estate and that tubby bastard gets a lot of attention for what he creates (whether you like it or not). Admit it, we've all been drawn to the flavored cigars once or twice; like nubile cheerleaders experimenting with one another in college...tenderly...eagerly under silk sheets with....

Pardon me, where was I? Toxic smoke, right.

My experience with this thing was more complex than you might think. I didn't stick it in my mouth and immediately regret it. Quite the opposite...I was pleasantly surprised! With a beer in hand to cleanse the palate I found the draw delightfully easy and the burn as smooth and even as any top-shelf cigar I've ever smoked. I acclimated to the sweetness and began to enjoy the cigar like one would enjoy a candy bar. I began to think I had found a once in a while (a long while) treat.

I continued to suck on that thing like Ginger Lynn on set back in the 80s but by the time the cigar had peaked, I began to regret it. The sweetness came back with an unholy vengeance coupled with rancid pepper. Maybe I was lured into it's ease-of-draw and mild bodied character and just smoked it too fast. I don't know. What I do know is that I couldn't get that damn sickly sweet smell out of my nose and my nausea was rising to dangerous levels.

I tossed that Connecticut wrapped turd into the street and spent the next half hour in the bathroom waiting to revisit my dinner. It never made an appearance but the cold tile on my forehead felt pretty damn good. It also gave me time to reflect on my serious lapse of judgment and to swear before the Great Porcelain God to publicly renounce that cigar-demon so that I might save others from sharing my shame.

Like many things in life, the sweetest wrappers hide the foulest hearts.