“Your Mom is getting crazier every day,” Tom said as he turned into the driveway and fumbled for the garage door remote.
“She’s not crazy, she just has strong beliefs.”
“Yeah. Strong, crazy beliefs.”
Ash just shrugged and let that go. Betty, his mother, was a committed Wiccan and Tom was still more or less that Methodist he was raised to be—other than being gay. Neither Tom nor Betty gave an inch and they were never really going to get along. So the occasional visit tended to mean Ash got bombarded with a lot of “I’m only doing this for you” looks from both of them.
“It’s amazing you turned out so normal,” Tom said as he pulled into the garage and wrenched the stick into park.
“Thanks, I think.”
“I know, you like her. She’s your Mom, of course you like her. It’s not quite so easy for me. I mean what the hell was she doing as we left?”
“She was cleansing your aura. You could just humor her.”
Tom grunted his dismissal of that idea and got out of the car. He grabbed Betty’s latest gift from the back seat. “This is going in the box room,” he said in a way that brooked no discussion.
Not that Ash would have disagreed; he rather resented the suggestion that he might. A two foot high statue of the horned God in all his naked glory was not Ash’s idea of stylish interior décor either. He raised his hand to cover a smile as Tom’s hefted the piece by grasping its large, erect penis.