”“What?”“Grass, pot, weed, or whatever you want to call it.”“What about it?”Pointing off to the side of the house, Benny said, “That g...rden over there is full of it.”Cynthia looked over at where he was pointing. “Oh. My. God.”Tim said, “That may be a show stopper. What else is wrong?”Shaken, Cynthia answered, “Some guy tried to create a commune out here.”“That would probably explain the marijuana,” Benny said.Cynthia continued, “Drinking, drugs, and free love turned into drunken brawls, bad. He often wondered what his father had seen in his mother, even if it seemed ungrateful. She had always been short, shriveled, and spiteful. Meeting women had always been out of the question. He had always been shy, so he never dated in school, and after he left school and began working in the shop he never found time to himself. Mother always had needs, always wanted something. She couldn't be left alone. So she said, and he believed her. He was a good son. That's what she said, when she wasn't. More

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