Damaged Goods, part II
Dad woke this morning to the smell of Marco's funky breath demanding to be let outside. I'm not saying that he has "bad" breath, per se, just "different", different enough that it causes one to wonder which pole of Marco one has discovered, the north or the south. The result is the same, with mom mumbling at dad to go let the inmates out before accidents start occurring, and dad trudging down the hall like…
