“I headed to work, inland up through La Jolla to the mall, and I couldn’t help but think about my grandmother, Busha, who had just passed away. It wasn’t like I missed her or anything. Please don’t get me wrong, she was a horrible woman. She looked like that crone picture in the Highlights Magazine, but you could search until your eyes crossed and never find the beautiful woman. I, fortunately, was too boring to ever attract her attention so she pretty much ignored me, but I was only around seve...n years old when she said my sister looked like a two-bit whore. Hey, now. I remember standing up straighter and sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eye at Melissa, who was wearing lip gloss and her fancy new B-cup bra. I held my lips together tightly and looked back at Busha. Respect.Busha thought my brother was a pot head, even though he tried to tell her, “It’s called weed. I guess I’ll put that in my pipe and smoke it, huh, Busha?” My brother was a jerk, though my Busha was all about the cliches.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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