Every time I walk by an Auntie Anne’s without buying something, a small part of my soul escapes through my nose and dies. When I realized there was very little of my soul left, I decided it’d be best to concoct my own soft pretzel recipe and secure a spot in, well, purgatory. (There are some things that I’m going to have to explain.) I’m convinced, though, that if given the opportunity to bake God some of these soft pretzels (with spicy mustard, of course), He’ll certainly admit me to heaven. And if He doesn’t, then I’ll see the rest of you all in what I imagine to be a giant hot tub with lots of horns, pitchforks, and questionably fashionable Speedos emblazoned with flames.