There was a second or two of static fuzz, then the empty motel room appeared.“What is this?” she asked with even more concern.“Oh, it's just som...thing I taped a couple of days ago.”“Where did—”Her question trailed off as the motel room door opened and the lunchtime lovers entered.I glanced at Mom, who had just recognized herself. “Oh, my god,” she whispered. “Oh, my god.” She put her face her hands for a few seconds and then looked at the screen again, where she and her pudgy partner were. I have no fucking clue how I lived long enough until I was able to start taking care of myself. I can only attribute it to two facts. First, was that Mother cared enough about the welfare check she got to feed me once in a while. Second, I grew up fast. Potty training was a study in survival every time Mother had to change my diaper after she'd decided I was old enough to sit on a toilet.I have a pretty good memory. I'm not stupid! My earliest memories are of having my own room and a small,. More

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