The Hole Truth

So I'm minding my own business the other day (that's a  rarity), when some lady next to me starts talking away on her whatever-color-it-is "tooth." (or was she just talking to herself?) She wasn't speaking Spanish because I didn't hear: "Tacos al carbón."  And I'm pretty sure her language of choice wasn't English either because I didn't decipher: "Charlie Sheen for Governor."   Whatever she was saying,  that woman was talking about me.  I just know it.  I'll never forget that look on her face.  "Creep."  It's like she knew some deep, dark secret about me... Impossible.  I've led a pure, innocent life.  For the most part... Okay, there was this one time... I uh... cut off the power in church.  During mass.  "Dear Lord, give a guy a break!"  I never did confess that little misdeed... until now.  There, I said it, okay?  I didn't mean to-- I was just a little kid!  (Everyone's entitled to one mistake, no?) You have no idea what it's been like all these years, the guilt, the anguish.  My conscience has not let me rest.  "God will get you for that."  I've been saddled with this angst for so long, no wonder I can't write.  Tossing and turning, night after night, year after year.  "It was an accident!" Forgive me Father for I have sinned... Whew!  I feel better already... It's amazing what confessing will do for a guy's soul... I just wonder if I should mention that fib I said long ago... about that hole in the wall, how it got there. "Oooh!  I'm gonna tell Dad!"  My sister still hasn't forgiven me...