"Mr. Clampett, about Mr. Morrison's invention." I'd love to hear about it," the man said, heading to the table in the large breakfast nook. "We don't ...et much company way out here in the hills. The people of these parts are none too friendly."As Morrison followed Mr. Clampett, Miss Jane paused beside the other two women, "Granny, doesn't your rheumatism medicine simply require basic fermentation?"The little old woman looked down at the pan that her grandchild had deposited on a counter beside. " she said.If she only knew why but that was my secret. Mom was always a pothead. Even when I was 5, she'd smoke pot and then have sex with her boyfriend, Randy. Randy was a trucker but her seldom worked more than a few hours a week. His only goal in life, it seemed was to smoke pot. Even fucking my beautiful, voluptuous mom was not as important as pot. We had lamps, pots and everything you'd need to grow. So much was Randy obsessed with the "fruit of the earth" that he convinced my mother to. More

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