"Horatio," mused the lamp, flickering uncertainly. "I believe I'm afraid of the dark."
Horatio, a noble candle barely adjusted his wick, "Oh, the irony," he sighed, "let it never be said that a lamp's illumination falls far from the tree."
"But Horatio," the lamp crackled gently, "aren't you ever filled with wax chomping anxiety?"
"Only when my light runs low," replied Horatio with an air, "or when someone mentions haunted chandeliers and their dance of terror!"