This time, with the puppy chewing my ankles, we have #2 of 4 from the words which take up the whole of the middle of the back cover of the LP.
This carries on from last time:
“”Ha. Your wig’s not on straight.” Gabriel snatched an exotic purple fruit out of the bowl, flopped miserably on the sofa, put his feet up, and took a bite. His face soured. “My Christ! Heavenly Nectar, eh? Must have been lying here for weeks.” He spat a mouthful of fruit onto the carpet, and stopped the trail of saliva that threatened to creep down his chin. “And the Ambrosia. Where’s the Ambrosia these days? Food of the Gods and all that. Haven’t seen any for weeks. I should do something about that before you have a nice little down tools.”
“I do keep telling you but you don’t listen. They’ll send some as soon as they can get it in. I can’t interfere with cosmic fatalities just to feed your face. And don’t spit on the carpet, the cleaner doesn’t come till Thursday.”
“Every day a bloody holiday.” Gabriel picked concenedly at his feet, while God went to get two beers from the fridge.”
Next time, #3 of 4.
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