The Second Worst Tuesday in Candle History

In which the candles do not cope well and the forks do nothing

A moment later, the drawer rattled.

Little Sir Menace clambered out with great ceremony, gave a tiny hop, and landed on a stack of old receipts. Behind him, the shadow followed, folding itself down like ink pouring over a bookshelf. The drawer creaked, groaned, and coughed out a puff of dust in protest. Where the figure had passed, the receipts curled a…