Candle Vies to Be the New “It Girl” on Coffee Table

Woah, she looks like she stepped right out of Coachella, took off her wide brimmed hat and appeared in my life. Clearly, she has “it”’ An “it girl” some might caution to guess. She removes her shades and starts walking my way. This could be the day that I climb that social ladder and take my rightful spot as the-Oh My Gosh! She’s eyeing me. Before I know it, she’s reaching out for me. I straighten my label and stand my wick straight up, lest she finds another. She inhales deeply with one nostril. She definitely has a slight deviated septum, but she rocks it.

I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we went home together. I could just see us now, watching TV together, making fun of the silly plants who think they’re hot shit because they’re so healthy. All they do is emit oxygen, which doesn’t even have a smell. She places me in the basket. I repeat, this is not a drill, people!

As she meanders the store, I imagine what my first impression will be like with the coffee table inner circle, which I’ve heard about from Eucalyptus Mint, who was returned. She came back ranting and raving about the hierarchy and got herself so worked up that she fell and broke her glass in a fit of hysteria. It was really tragic. This is why you should smell before you buy people!

She said there’s sure to be a Book or two, who everyone pretends to like for about 10 seconds until they realize there is no substance. We all know someone like that. There’s usually the Remote who keeps to himself and often goes off the grid. He’s missing half the time. I’ve heard rumors about a Tray who keeps it all orderly. Finally, there is the Plant. Everyone seems intimidated by them because they seem orderly, but have a bad habit of bumping the other items on the coffee table as it grows. Well, I’d just have to let them know that I bump back. “It girls” are aloof and a bit too cool to be there. That’s the essence I need to channel.

After a bumpy ride in the bag, I hear a lock turning and she sets the bag down. She fishes around for me, bracelets clinking together and firmly holds me to remove my tag. She pads over to the coffee table and places me down. I suddenly am self-conscious of myself as everyone’s eyes lock in on me. I notice a buttercream yellow candle, about middle age, who snarkily states, “Lookie here, my replacement just arrived. Perfect timing.” She sniffles and I stare back, puzzled. “I used to have a fresh wick too, toots, enjoy it while it lasts. She’s gonna chew you up and spit you out like Pumpkin Pancake.” She sadly grins as she is carried off to the lavatory to finish out her life.

Image: Lauren Conrad

Tricia D'Onofrio
Tricia D'Onofrio is a comedian and writer from Connecticut, but not the tennis part. She has determined that 2020 will be her year, despite all signs pointing to the opposite. She always believed herself to be a unique individual, but it turns out she's just a textbook Sagittarius.