Okay, here I go. Just give me a second to stretch the hammies (it's a really really tall soapbox, and I'm not exactly a spring chicken). Alllllright. Everybody listening? Good.
Sometimes I don't get you people. I mean, seriously. I've made your lives easier to figure out than assembling an Ikea dining room set. I've given you all the parts, clearly labeled. I've given you a detailed instruction booklet. I even gave you one of those funny little tools that looks like something somebody stepped on. But somehow you guys still manage to spread it all out on the floor, say "Huh?" and end up with a spare table leg you don't know what to do with.
Of course, I was speaking in a metaphor (or 'parable'). When I talked about the instruction booklet, I meant the Bible. When I talked about the funny little tools that look like something somebody stepped on, I mean Moses. Okay, so that one isn't even really a metaphor. Moses is a tool. An oddly-shaped tool. But, back on point, obviously the spare table leg is a metaphor. A metaphor for scented candles.
Why, people? Why do you have scented candles? What purpose do they serve? I mean, come on. It's fire that smells weird. Fire: cool. Weird smells: not cool.
And now because you guys are so obsessed with having your scented candles everywhere, the Missus wants them in Heaven. She thinks it would be really 'pleasant' to light something on fire and have it make the place reek like Kiwi Melon Paradise or something.
Not cool, guys. Not cool.