"He that hasteth to be rich hath an evil eye, and considereth not that poverty shall come upon him."

Dear God,

On the anniversary of the day You came down from Heaven to live as a baby-version of Yourself, my owners went to Gomorrah. I mean, Atlantic City.

They left me stranded--on Christmas day at home with two dinners which I promptly ate all at once and went into the patch of sun under the table until I decided to climb up to the bed with the heating blanket which I've learned to activate by falling on top of the on-switch--taking two of their homosexual friends to stay at the Tropicana with the rest of your fallen ones, where they met the face of Beelzebub herself:



They're bringing sin into my household.


As usual, in your name Jesus Christ I pray for you to lick me clean of this evil,

Amen