Moment of Truth

Draft # 43,325,123 of my play T.O.M.B. is printed out, sitting on my counter, calling for perusal.

My hands are over my ears and I am singing, "I'm not listening, la la la. Hoo dee hoo dee hoo, I can't hear you."

I think I'll go to a movie.

It won't last for long but for right now I just can't look. Nope. I've worked hard, I've slept it, I've lassoed so many beautiful friends into helping. Okay, I hog-tied them. And they were good and kind and helpful.

But I'm not excited to look at it. I fucking dread it.

Mom, I used the "fuck" word.

'Cause it could be crap.

But maybe it's not...