Three years ago, on a warm summer’s night, I burned my mother in law while a small crowd looked on with tearful smiles. Not many people have an opportunity to write a sentence like that in their lifetime so a bit of explanation may be in order. While I warrant these statements to be true, I confess nothing. Here’s the rest of the story.
I first met Sheila when I was sixteen years old. As my girlfriend’s mother, she was cordial enough in the beginning and maybe even a bit taken with me if I do say so myself. We shared a mutual fanaticism for Stephen King, Bob Dylan, Greenpeace and a few other miscellaneous commonalities that made for easy conversation in what’s normally an awkward relationship. More

