Pride

Three jobs on the east coast. Leaving LA for two weeks.

Shirt stays on or there will be blood. No singing, either.

I could take advice about my dog from a horseman who can't look after his own horse.

Or, I could not.


[Envy]
You would be the third Sin leaving your sex toy lying around. Perhaps the fourth. Is it too much to ask to have everyone clean up after themselves?

Would you mind taking your sex partner somewhere else? He irks me.

Ma che cazzo.


[Sins sans Wrath]

Sit, and don't do anything. I will sort it out.

Envy?

I will be back in L.A. by next Friday. Envy, leave that weekend free.


[Left on Lust's voicemail]

He irks me. Keep him on a leash, for both our sakes. I don't want to have to deal with him as well when the angels and demons descend upon us and there is an easy, immediate and increasingly tempting way to guarantee that he stays out of the picture.

CAUTION

This pantheon is being struck by yet another epidemic of Astoundingly Stupid.

I never caught on to the whole pet-raising fiasco, but the dog has arrived, and I have almost no experience with my new canine acquaintance.

Lust, on the other hand, seems quite enamoured by it. So it may be somewhat cute but surely making motherly, baby, reassuring noises at it is going a little overboard?

Perhaps this gift would better suit her, Gluttony? I want it out of my house, and no amount of headtilts, licking or pleading/sad/cute faces it makes at me will change that.