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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering

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When my dad was alive, they fed off and supported each other's delusions, so I knew anytime a sentence began with 'well what your father and I think is ...' that whatever followed would be bullshit. And of course they would tell all their friends, who'd fully believe it. But then, my mom's mom was a complete whackadoodle as well, and told the neighbors she didn't have children, since my mom was an adult, yet also her grandson, my brother, was an assassin.