Grandma's wit

One summer I painted my grandmother’s barn. Cattle pens were attached to the back side of the barn. After my grandfather died, Grandma no longer had livestock, so the pens were overgrown with weeds.

Marijuana was the most prolific weed. (Although prolific, wild marijuana is not very potent.) Some of it grew more than waist high and I am a tall woman. One day I thought I’d have a little fun with Grandma. I pulled up one of the marijuana stalks and took it into the house when she called me to supper.

“Grandma,” I said, “I can’t believe you would grow marijuana in your cattle pens!”

She looked at me, looked at the plant, then said, “Well, you picked it.”

What could I answer to that?