<span style="color: #FF0040">I jump down from the high majestic cliff that's conveniently plotted into the story, that I stand on, and stroke my chin with my fingers on my right hand, placing my left hand on my hip as I look down at Harold.<br/><br/>Harold was a very nice couch, you see. He was a dark red, velvet couch, very large and squishy, made to hold at least 10 people who would all like to come together and have a huge, huge pasta party.<br/><br/>There was one problem with Harold, however: He smelled of tomato sauce.<br/><br/>See, there was in fact this giant pasta party that took place on the gigantic mass of beauty that was Harold's squishiness. And with all pasta parties, there is tomato sauce. That just so happened to spill all over Harold during some point in the party.<br/><br/>No matter how hard I tried, with those little dish-washer soap packets, the smell would not come out. It's not that I didn't like the smell of tomato sauce- In fact, I loved it. The rich, sweet and creamy smell of freshly cooked tomato sauce, bubbling in a gigantic metal pot. The problem was that the smell attracted small, unwanted insects, like Bears and Mooses. And we all know Bears and Mooses killed people.<br/><br/>No, as much as I loved that tomatoey rich smell of goodness... It had to be put down. And fast.</span>