The 11th Plague

Historians have more than documented the first Ten Plagues from biblical times; frogs, locusts, and so on. The tenth and final plague involved a murderous spirit that would ride through town killing the first born son in every household. The loophole here was that if your door was marked with the blood of a sacrificial lamb, your son would be spared (AKA Passed Over). Abraham’s people were obviously in on the plan and had appropriately painted their doors in the aforementioned Lamb’s blood. All others fell victim to the ghostly executioner in an evening of widespread killing. You’ll have to excuse my oversimplification and possible historical inaccuracies, but I’m not one for religious “history”. I merely recounted the evening of phantasmal debauchery in order to illustrate the obvious parallel between biblical plagues and Yankee Candles.

Although apparently unpleasant, Spam Boy’s Subway-induced onion breath is neither the Grim Reaper nor is it Plague 10 ½. In fact, the analogy described here precedes the whole onion breath/utility belt/votive kidnapping fiasco of the early Aughts (Naughts? Ohs? Turn of the Milleniums?). The story I’m about to tell you was briefly mentioned in the recollection of the votive episode, but deserves elaboration.

It was around Christmas, the 2002nd or 2003rd Year of Our Lord and Spam Boy was working in the Digital Hardware department. After several rounds of severe illnesses (physical, mental and other), he was ordered by his chief physician to move to another department. But Spam Boy had one last task to perform. One Friday afternoon, he made the rounds handing out heavily scented votives. As rumor has it, these were not given to everyone but only Spam Boy’s Chosen People. One could argue that just being in the office at the time was enough to earn your spot on the Chosen list, but some candles were left in unoccupied cubicles. When Monday morning came around, the tang of French Vanilla stained the air. This act was not something to be overlooked.

Recent accounts confirm that many cubicles are still marked by the now-muted candles. With Spam Boy’s history of instability and apocalyptic, vengeful (softball loss induced) rants only one conclusion seems logical. These votives are proverbial markings left on the doors of the Chosen People. They are the few who are to be spared during a U.S. Post Office style massacre. Anyone else will be violently gunned down in a chemically imbalanced bloodbath. Spam Boy has made it known who shall die and who shall live. Once in his violent trance, he’ll be incapable of discerning between the Good and the Evil. The votives will be his guide. All others beware; this is your only warning!