It was October 31, 1969. The neighborhood was in the full swing of Halloween fever. Jack-o’-lanterns and skeletons lined people’s porches, and since school had just let out, the excitement of trick-or-treating was palpable in the air.
I had just gotten back from serving in Vietnam and had moved in with my mom since my dad had recently died. My mother was just learning how to live without him, and I was just learning how to live.
It was around 3:30 p.m. when I announced to my mom that I was going out to get groceries and candy for the kids. She asked when I would be back, presumably because of her fear of being left alone nowadays. I told her around 5:00 p.m. or so. Just as I pulled out of the driveway, I saw a strange car parked across the street from our house, though I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
When I got to the grocery store, it didn’t take me long to gather up all the groceries, but I did take time to ponder and think about all that we had lost since my dad was gone. That’s when I looked at the shopping list and noticed my mom had written, “Bananas, for daddy.”
Once I had all the groceries, I made my way to the checkout, which is when I went to grab my wallet and noticed I had left it at the house. With a curse, I asked a clerk to watch my cart as I hurried back home to grab my wallet. I sped back and noticed the strange car had parked in our driveway.
I made my way into the house, when I started hearing a peculiar noise, but not an unfamiliar one. What I heard was the sound of someone getting strangled, a noise I had heard all too often in Vietnam. Hearing it come from my mother’s bedroom, I rushed upstairs and burst through the door. But what I saw when I got up there was worse than all the carnage I had ever seen in the war.
What I saw was my mother, totally nude, having tantric, hardcore sex with Chad Weaver. Chad Weaver, who I had thought was a friend, a mentor really, was giving it to my mom in ways I could not have even imagined, in positions I still don’t know the names off. The strangulation sound I had heard was not my mother being strangled, but in fact my mother strangling Chad. Apparently he’s into that.
In horror I watched as my mother and Chad noticed me, and rather than stopping once they saw me, they continued with renewed vigor. They only paused for a second as my mother turned around to look me in the eyes and ask, “Did you bring the bananas for Chad?”