Picked Apart Like Chickens

Competitive? I'm more competitive than I'd like to admit in public...

We all wear our masks. Some of us wear more masks than others. (Some of us are nothing BUT masks.)

In case anybody stumbles onto this, know that my play has nothing to do with this thing. I wrote "The Butcherhouse Chronicles" a fucking while ago. (Please ignore any references to a "wedding" in that entry... that was another life. That was that, this is this.)