Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

5 - OH, GROW UP

“Come on in and see our babies,” Hippie Mary invited me into their little Breezy River DeLuxe mobile home.  Owen was with me following close behind.  We crowded into the tiny living room that was liberally decorated with macramé hangings fabricated from seashells and Native American beads, while the scent of patchouli oil hung in the air as thick as tar.  Hippie Mary guided us across the sloped living room floor into a bathroom conveniently located a few steps from the kitchenette.  Obviously Chet was used to ducking out of the way of all the hangings, but Owen had to battle his way while I ducked the swinging remains.  Hippie Mary folded open the tiny door to the bath and backed herself into the adjoining bedroom so we could get a view of the seedlings.

Owen and me squeezed our heads into the bitty room and saw strung over the sink-and-toilet combo an orange electrical extension cord with a bare 150-watt bulb hanging about a few inches above a collection of plastic cups, each cup possessing a thriving green sprout of natural fibers.

Hippie Mary said, “Now would be a good time for our babies to leave home and start growing up on their own.”

I gave Hippie Mary an encouraging nod when I noticed Owen nodding too, and I realized Owen was intending to enlist in our hemp business without even asking.

“Come back around midnight,” Hippie Mary said.  “There’s a ditch out there that needs filling.”

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