7 Deadly Sins Committed, And I Can't Even Play A Fiddle

*** continued from previous post ***

The problem with spending a few days stuffing yourself on delicious food is that . . . okay I lied. There is no problem. Except the whole I-can't-button-my-pants-because-the-altitude-has-shrunk-the-waistband thingee. This was to be our last dinner at the Lodge and I was looking forward to the offering.

After a bit of 'freshening up', and a nap, we returned to the dining room to once again stuff ourselves silly. I reasoned thusly: this was our last chance to sample the fare, and it would be 'poor form' to be anything but wildly enthusiastic about whatever they set before me. Gluttony may be a sin, but so was rudeness. Well, maybe rudeness is not a cardinal sin. More like a venal sin. Just a little sin. Oh, who am I kidding. This dinner was to be the spiritual equivalent of an atomic bomb. I intended to not only break all seven of the deadly sins, but also make up a few of my own.

What? You doubt me? How you may ask, at a simple dinner could I damn my eternal soul? It would take some work, but I was up to the challenge. To wit:

1. Lust.
My anticipation of the feast to come was more than mere appetite. Oh, it was far beyond that. I had fantasized about dinner even as I was eating tasty treats at High Tea. I couldn't help myself. Really. Food. Arghlghlghrrrr.

2. Gluttony.
Self explanatory. I would finish all on my plate, your mother's plate, and possibly the skinny little freaks sitting next to me. Bonus meats for me if they were Vegans!

3. Greed.
Need I explain what would happen should someone take a fancy to something I had ordered? Whatever delicacy was presented before me was mine. MINE. And woe be to anyone that wanted 'just a taste' of anything on my plate. Or your mother's. Or, once again, to the skinny-ass vegan freak to my right.

4. Sloth.
After such a grand dinner a nap would be in order. Due to my over-consumption it would probably be best to have Donny wheel me to our room with a wheelbarrow. Or possibly piggyback. Something that wouldn't disturb me too much. I wanted to doze the 100 yards to my bed.

5. Wrath.
Yeah. Just try to take my dessert. I dare ya. And if they were out of my favorite 'fair trade' coffee . . . Well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty.

6. Envy.
Dammit! I should have gone with the fowl like the skinny-ass freak next to me! It looks so much better than what I’m having!

7. Pride.
After I had made it through such piggishness without a quick trip to the bathroom for a 'Roman Appetizer', I would be quite pleased with myself. Quite pleased indeed.

So, as you can see, I was on a path straight to Hell. A tasty, tasty path without a doubt, but one that ended with a date with Old Scratch himself. Quite sad really. No hope of redemption. And me, I can't even play a fiddle.

I mentioned this fact to your Mother as we readied ourselves for dinner. "Honey, I have something to tell you. It won't be easy to say, and I'm afraid it's going to upset your terribly."

Mom sighed, braced her hands on the bathroom sink and looked at my reflection in the mirror. "Okay, I'll bite. What's so troubling?"

"I'm afraid I'm going straight to Hell. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200."

Mom stared at me. After a bit she said, "Is that it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. There's naught that can be done. All is lost."

"And you're going to Hell because . . . ?"

Whereupon I recounted my reasoning concerning the Seven Deadly Sins, and the inevitability of my eternal damnation due to dinner.

"Oh sweetie," she said, standing and wrapping me in a tight hug. "you were cursed to Hell long before this."

I started to argue but we both know she was right. Somehow, this made me feel better. Hungry in fact. The road to Hell is paved with deliciousness. Umm . . . forbidden dinner. Yum!



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