Shadow Seen

Another year and another string of failed publicity efforts for Val Marie Vern, as malcontent a prairie dog as you’ll find in the Saskatchewan flatlands just north of the Montana border. “Discrimination I tell you,” he lamented to his wife who disinterestedly nodded without taking her eyes of the tube. “If I were a groundhog we’d be swimming in renown by now.” “I can see my shadow as well as any other rodent,” he thought to himself, “and yet Puxsutawney Phil and Wiarton Willie get all the glory.”

He sulked over to his den and brought his laptop out of hibernation. Destination? ChandelierSelect.com. He wasn’t ready to pack in his campaign for a Western Canadian version of the legendary events that occur every February 2^nd in Puxsutawney, Pennsylvania and Wiarton, Ontario, but another long year lay ahead before his promotional efforts began anew.

When you live in a burrow, it matters little whether it’s day or night. There’s no opening the blinds or parting the curtains to add some natural light to the place. It’s dark, always dark, and the decrepit white orb that hung precariously from his dining room ceiling was bringing him down. When every meal of every day consists of the same fare – leaves, grass roots, seeds mixed with grasshoppers and other insects – the whole experience loses its appeal somewhat over time. Vern came to decide his dining area was in need of a pick me up to mitigate the monotony of it all.

Vern knew to defer to the missus’ decor sensibilities, and beckoned Violet over to the den. It was nearly impossible to pry her away from Oprah at this time of the day, or any other talk show for that matter. Credit where it was due, Violet was quickly drawn to a number of attractive and competitively-priced ceiling fixtures.

Many of the AF Lighting Chandeliers glowed with old world grandeur and charm, perfect for reflecting them as the gentile Prairie Dogs they considered themselves to be. After all, it certainly couldn’t be considered a hallmark of common folk to serve beetle sautéed in wheat grass and garnished with elderberries. The AF Lighting Morning Dew One Light Chandelier struck her as especially appealing with its depth of design and unbeatable price.

As participatory as he was, Vern couldn’t stop fuming; What makes groundhogs so special? We’re both rodents and the average Joe couldn’t tell us apart if he tried! Is my shadow inferior somehow? What the heck does a Prairie Dog have to do to get some recognition and respect around here? Maybe I should hire a publicist this year ...

“Vern! Are you listening?!”

He was jerked back into the here and now by Violet’s anxious bark. She was asking his opinion on a number of Murray Feiss Chandeliers that blended classic design themes with a more modern take, suitable for impressing their uppity neighbors the Gatherlords. You think Prairie Dogs don’t need to keep up with Jones’ as well? The Murray Feiss Gatsy 4-Light Chandelier really caught his eye.

The selection of ELK Lighting chandeliers was so large that perusing it took the remainder of the afternoon. Night fell, and Vern yet again began to dwell on the coming morning in much the same way he had for the past week. He’d seen his shadow each and every daybreak as well, just the same as Phil and Willie had. Difference was, a Prairie Dog’s shadow just doesn’t carry the same weight. “It’s just not fair” Vern grumbled as Violet turned out their bedside lamp. She sighed tiresomely as she rolled over.

“Give it up, honey”.

Technicolor Memories and the Living Rainbow

My childhood home was a dream for anyone ten years old or younger. My parents built the home in a tiny, dusty town a three hour’s drive from the nearest large city. We had a diner, a grocery store, and two service stations – across the road from each other – and not much else. I hadn’t experienced fast food or shopping malls until we moved and I was nearly a teenager; perfect timing, don’t you think?

My parents built the house specifically with my brother and I in mind – if we were kept entertained, we’d be out of their way. The playroom in the basement was carpeted with multicolored squares to create a patchwork rainbow. There was a “hidden” room under the stairs that became our secret lair. The walls, with a stark white base, were encouraged to be made our own; several masterpieces and brilliant prose have surely long since been painted over. The best part of the house, however, was the backyard.

Painstakingly each spring, my mom and dad would plant the gardens. All around the perimeter were beautiful blooming flowers, teeming with ladybugs and dragonflies. Two apple trees sat in the middle, perfectly executed as a “home base” when playing tag, or makeshift goal posts. Raspberries, strawberries and rhubarb stained the corners red – along with every child’s face on our block. Near the back was a vegetable garden that produced every color of the rainbow: tomatoes, pumpkins, beans, peas, cabbage, carrots, onions, cucumbers, corn, and potatoes. It was all we ate in the summer and likely why I have such an aversion to frozen vegetables now. Once you’ve pulled a carrot and rinsed off the dirt with the garden hose, you can never settle for something shrink wrapped.

The inaugural gardening day usually took place in late April. Dad begrudgingly pulled down his cap and set to work – his job was the worst; he was in charge of bug and leaf removal. Mom brought out all her baby plants and flowers and dug new homes for them in the freshly fertilized soil. I watched from the sidelines, wondering how dead grass and gray dirt would ever become the garden I was accustomed to.

Before I knew it, the backyard was alive again and with the sun came the anticipation of apple pies and carrot cake to eat and bumblebees and butterflies to catch. I remember stuffing unlucky bugs into old yogurt cups to keep as pets, only to have my brother set them free in the evening. And my parents, sitting on their garden swing, illuminated by the watchful eye of the outdoor porch light, taking it all in, enjoying the fruits of their labor, sometimes literally.

As summer rounds the corner and dusk brings the scents of barbeque and the sounds of tag, I wonder if the people who moved into our old house twenty years ago maintained the backyard as my parents did. I wonder if they had children to play amongst the greens and yellows and reds as we had. And I wonder if I could still catch a butterfly.

Tips on Boogeymanagement

We at Cymax Stores are committed to tackling the real issues, and like 68% of all Americans today, my most worrisome issue is the Boogeyman. Boogeyman-related stress and illnesses cost American employers $8.5 trillion a year in health expenses and lost productivity.

The symptoms of a Boogeyman encounter include fatigue, irritability, bed-wetting, sudden whitening of the hair, and shivering in the foetal position while begging the horror to stop. Many Boogeyman sufferers are unable to sleep without the help of night-lights, nightly closet checks, the total tucking-in of all their blankets, and constant whining that the bedroom door needs to be open farther to let more light in.

Does this sound like anyone you know? Perhaps a co-worker, spouse, or family member has a chronic Boogeyman problem. Perhaps you have one yourself, and you’re reading this on a laptop from behind a fortress of couch cushions, which you think will save you when the scary monster comes again. Hint: It won’t.

In any case, there are practical solutions, and we at Cymax can help. Here are some tips and related products to help you deal with this nightly threat.

Tip 1. The Boogeyman cannot be captured on camera or by any home security equipment.

If the Boogeyman was susceptible to such banal trickery, he would have been captured, arrested, imprisoned, contracted to write a best-selling memoir, and made into a reality show TV star by now. So while our excellent range of home security and surveillance products won't help you catch the Boogeyman, it will help you catch those whippersnappers who always smoke their jimson weed out behind your wisteria bush. That alone might ease your mind.

Tip 2. The Boogeyman doesn’t like bright light.

Does this mean you should sleep with all your lights on? Not in these energy-conscious times. Trust us, if you think the Boogeyman is scary, then you haven’t experienced an enraged, shirtless Al Gore punching down your door, screaming about how you’ve “unleashed the hurricane,” and then tearing you asunder with his bare hands. But we at Cymax Stores do have a range of efficient and convenient LED lamps and flashlights for those nightly emergency floor-sweeps.

Tip 3. The Boogeyman only emerges from closets and beneath beds.

Other modes of transportation such as windows, vents and drains are not popular with the Boogeyman, lucky for us – the closet and the bed space are trouble enough. If you check them one at a time, it’s all too easy for the Boogeyman to switch around and elude you, making you check again and again. This is a problem that vexes even world-famous boogeymanologists.

The only way to be sure of the Boogeyman’s absence is to check both closet and bed at the same time. Get a spouse or friend to help you. If you're unable to do this, then you are urged to fill your closet with bricks, and use an armoire from Cymax for all your storage instead. You will never again be troubled by a closet-Boogeyman, and as a bonus, you may also be magically transported to Narnia (see your warranty details).

Tip 4. The more distance you put between yourself and the floor, the less chance you have of being Boogeymanned.

The Boogeyman has to travel across the floor like every other dark, lurching abomination except the winged nightgaunt and the giant hornet. The best way for you to keep away from the floor is by purchasing a bunk bed from Cymax Stores. The idea, of course, is that you’ll take the top bunk, and you’ll leave the bottom bunk to be occupied by an anti-Boogeyman decoy made out of a pile of clothes and a wig. You can also give the bottom bunk to any annoying relation who claims not to believe in the Boogeyman. Because they’ll learn. They’ll learn.

Some bunk beds offer added protection, so it’s worth shopping around a little. This bunk bed is more like an anti-monster bunker, and will serve as a prime defense against the horrors of nightgaunts, umber hulks, howling cryptoids and Ann Coulters. Other bed alternatives exist for those who disdain monster-fighting and would rather make a quick getaway instead.

We hope that this guide has been informative to you. If these tips and your credit card are both judiciously applied, the next time the Boogeyman darkens your doorstep, he’ll have no choice but to boogie on back to where he came from (probably Iowa).