“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been 20 years since my last confession.”
“Go on my son.”
“In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit… Last week I was guilty of a number of the deadly sins.”
“First I was guilty of sloth. I didn’t do anything at all for a few days… barely left the house. Well, I guess it was really more like indifference. I wrote, but only for work. I figured if I wasn’t getting paid, then I shouldn’t do it. So, I guess I’m also guilty of another deadly sin… greed.”
“Go on my son, I’m listening.”
“Then I won an award for an article I wrote… $250! So, that must make me guilty of pride, huh?”
“Were you filled with an excessive belief in your own abilities that interfered with your recognition of the grace of god, my son?”
“Well, I guess I could have given thanks for my good fortune, but I did most of the work so, yeah, I guess I believed more in myself.”
“Then yes, my son, you are guilty of pride. Is there more?”
“Well, at this point I figured I’ve hit the trifecta, why stop. My friend wrote to me and told me she just landed a free trip to Costa Rica. She’s lazier than I am. I wanted to get a free trip to Costa Rica too… so that makes me guilty of envy, right?”
“Yes… I’m afraid it does.”
“Well, there I was, bummed out about my friends good fortune and decided to eat some ice cream… you know, to make myself feel better. Before I knew it, I had eaten a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s. You know what that means, father.
“Gluttony, my son.”
“So then I get pissed at myself. I should be happy right? But know, I’m furious and throw the spoon out the window where it inadvertantly hits a passerby on the head. Anger, right?”
“Well, yes my son. If you spurned love and opted instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath. A great sin indeed.”
“Well, that’s six. There is still one deadly sin of which you are not guilty my son. There is that to be thankful for.”
“The day is still young father.”
1 thought on “The One About Confessions”
Don’t add those annoying blog jukeboxes or whatever the hell they are called that play music automatically. Fuckin’ hate that.
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