Carolina and I were visiting my neighbor Roy McClure and his wife, Marilyn McClure, in their home across the street. We were in the back part of the house in a room which seemed like an enclosed porch. Another amiable-looking fellow (probably 18-19 years old) with shoulder length brown hair was also present. Roy introduced me to the fellow – a relative of Roy's who had come to visit. Roy said the fellow's name was either Steven or Leroy Steven – I was unsure which; but it seemed strange that the fellow had the same name as I. After the fellow and I shook hands, the fellow leaned over to me and whispered that Roy was going to be away during the week and that he (the fellow) was going to have a party; he invited me to come. He said some other things that I didn't understand; but I had the feeling he might be asking me if I could locate some marijuana.

Roy and I began talking again, and Roy spoke about the reason I was there: I had given Roy a piece of heavy thick cloth to dye for me. Roy and his wife had an elaborate set-up in the room; he had prepared a bath of purple dye in a long plastic container. He showed me the cloth which I had given him; to my dismay, the cloth had been sewed into a pair of shorts. I hadn't wanted shorts – I had intended to use the cloth to make a curtain for my mother; now I was unsure whether I could cut off pieces of the cloth to use as a curtain.

With his wife helping him, Roy dipped the cloth into the vat of dye, pulled out the cloth with a stick and laid the cloth on the floor. He pressed the cloth until it changed colors from gray to purple; but then the cloth reverted to gray again. I assumed when the cloth dried it would be purple.

I asked Roy whether any more of the cloth remained leftover. He said yes, and I asked if he could also dye it. I was thinking maybe I could still use the leftover cloth for the curtain. Although Roy seemed dismayed. we pulled out the leftover cloth and Roy went through the same dying procedure with it.

Meanwhile, I looked around. I had never been in Roy's house before. I could see the back yard, which seemed to have some weeds in it, unlike the immaculately maintained front yard. I could also see the living room, where the furniture looked rather plain; no televisions seemed to be in the living room.

I also noticed Roy's wife Marilyn – a thin woman – smoking a cigarette. Although I had known her for a while, I had never known she smoked. Along with helping Roy dye my cloth, she was also busy with another project: making Jell-O with bits of fruit inside. She had a mold for different shapes about the size of drinking glasses into which she would put the fruit. I said to her, "You've got quite an operation here."

She replied that she did. It seemed to me that Roy and Marilyn were certainly doing a lot of work; they must be devoting the whole day to these tasks.

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