Here I lie on a bed of soft velvet, with people oohing and awing. I’m not sure where I am, but this place is much warmer than where I used to reside. I am sleek and well oiled. My skin is a shiny metallic black and cool to the touch, except when I am angry. I warn you, I spit when provoked, but haven’t done this for a long time. I am treated with respect in this place. I have been all over this planet, accompanied by my relatives. I have been used for good things and for bad things. It really hurts my feelings when somebody does something wrong with me. Beside me is an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. A burning butt is in the ashtray. Can you guess who or what I might be?
I am a smoking gun.