It worked. I churned out what my drunken self considered Shakespeare. The next morning, well, afternoon, my hung-over self recognized it as Much Ado a...out Nothing, Act III. No more booze. Mom saw what I was going through. Hell, she had seen it coming years ago. I had no talent. No gift. Just desire. Desire doesn’t pay the bills. Once, after another day of writing attempts, she called me into the living room to take a break from my blank pages. She was spread out on the couch in her green robe,. Bhavana: “So fast and once more? Give some rest to my private part”Me: “Hey not now, chill. It’s for you to gain strength now for last session of the night before we hit the bed and sleep; and I am not going to jab your pussy this time”Bhavana: “What’s Pussy?”Me: with a smile “So innocent, Pussy is your that private part which you keep telling and Cock is my this private part”Bhavana: “Oh, I never know that. What is this then?” – she pointed her breastMe: “Tits”Bhavana: “This?” – pointing the. More

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