Stone Age

A friend reports:

I have this Aunt Marge who spent all her adult life in Weed, CA. Now she’s 95 and living in San Jose. Well, there may be a story in her past.

Just got a call from Daddy. He had called Aunt Marge and my cousin was there – and so they spoke ... about how well Aunt Marge was doing and how happy she seemed. Anyway, my cousin (70) tells Daddy (85) that if he ever felt the need for marijuana, she could help him out.

Daddy then calls me ... wanting to know more about marijuana (he uses the full name) and if in fact I thought it might do him some good. (U@(*U!L@JIIU*UO#*&#(&*&*(%*%@&!) Then Mama (80) gets on the phone and wonders the same thing. (U@(*U!L@JIIU*UO#*&#(&*&*(%*%@&!) These people are my parents I’m talking about. We thought we KNEW these people.

Anyway … Daddy asks about my experiences with pot and I tell him – nothing big. And essentially we left it that at some point in the future – presumably when they’re about Aunt Marge’s age – they might want me to hook them up, and I assured them I would.

Whatever.