Erinas
10-05-2005, 06:24 AM
A Little Toy Shop
By: John Belcher
My name is Roan, and I love the world, and the people on it. But I see the world as a precarious balance, and the human race is causing the balance to tilt. I live in the time of self-indulgence, the Gilded Age re-visited. Ninety-Nine lifestyles all encompass the herald of the dawn of a new age.
I’m a toy maker by trade, and I own Roan’s Little Side Shop, at the corner of Bradley Boulevard and Spain Street. In general, we do not carry commercial products, as every thing here is made by me or my wife Ferris. Occasionally, despite our best efforts to remain entirely original, we must stock on toys developed by commercial developers, simply because we wouldn’t make money any other way. But now, even if we sell commercial products, we can’t compete with the newly built Toys R’ Us that recently opened next door. Nobody appreciates the novelty of a wooden train, hand carved to perfection, the pinnacle of the human hand’s ability to manipulate tools. I have no children, Ferris can’t have them or I can’t produce lively seed, I don’t know, and now we’re to old to adopt, well into our fifties. The toy shop is my only legacy, and now, soon, I’ll lose my mark on the Earth.
Today, the facilitators of the new Toys R’ Us visited us, offering ridiculous sums of money to buy my little toy shop. I have no choice. I can’t support my family with the competition. I accept, and I now have 3 weeks to close up shop and hand the deed over to them. Its sad really, another tale of a home grown business being swallowed by the big company, the new kids in town so to speak.
I tell Ferris of my sale and she says she understands, but wished there could be some other way. That the townspeople would speak up, since we have been here so long, and gave their children toys that they enjoyed for so long, but of course no such thing will happen, because it’s the new fangled brand that always triumphs over the tried and true formula. I weep silently at night when my wife sleeps, because my purpose has been stolen from me. My life will be easier now though. I guess every cloud has a silver lining. I sigh as I sleep, my dreams telling of a time when my shop brought tears of joy to desperate parents, trying to find something for their children on Christmas Eve, when all the commercial places had sold out. They were all gone now though, and soon I will leave their lives forever.
Today is the last day for my little shop, the last day I will open her doors for the people, the last time I will smile as I see a child bounding with limitless energy looking at the wooden sword I had made the week before. I shift uncomfortably in my seat behind the counter, knowing that this may be the very last sale I make, but still, I know that this is what I must do. I open my mouth to speak.
“May I help you young man?” I say expectantly, ready for the smile and the enthusiastic nod of his boyish head. I point at the sword. “That sword won’t break for nothin’.”
The boy smiles and states simply “Toys R’ Us has a better one.” And the boy nods and starts to walk out my door. I smile at him and nod blankly. “I’m sure they do, son, I’m sure they do”. I silently get up, holding down the tears I feel welling up inside of me. Silent still, I turn off the lights, and lock up shop.
For the last time.
Now I laugh as I drive by my old shop, remembering the fine times I had in there. Knowing that when I die, my shop will be waiting for me in heaven, because that’s what makes me the happiest. Because this world is a test for the willing, and those who pass will receive infinite happiness later on.
By: John Belcher
My name is Roan, and I love the world, and the people on it. But I see the world as a precarious balance, and the human race is causing the balance to tilt. I live in the time of self-indulgence, the Gilded Age re-visited. Ninety-Nine lifestyles all encompass the herald of the dawn of a new age.
I’m a toy maker by trade, and I own Roan’s Little Side Shop, at the corner of Bradley Boulevard and Spain Street. In general, we do not carry commercial products, as every thing here is made by me or my wife Ferris. Occasionally, despite our best efforts to remain entirely original, we must stock on toys developed by commercial developers, simply because we wouldn’t make money any other way. But now, even if we sell commercial products, we can’t compete with the newly built Toys R’ Us that recently opened next door. Nobody appreciates the novelty of a wooden train, hand carved to perfection, the pinnacle of the human hand’s ability to manipulate tools. I have no children, Ferris can’t have them or I can’t produce lively seed, I don’t know, and now we’re to old to adopt, well into our fifties. The toy shop is my only legacy, and now, soon, I’ll lose my mark on the Earth.
Today, the facilitators of the new Toys R’ Us visited us, offering ridiculous sums of money to buy my little toy shop. I have no choice. I can’t support my family with the competition. I accept, and I now have 3 weeks to close up shop and hand the deed over to them. Its sad really, another tale of a home grown business being swallowed by the big company, the new kids in town so to speak.
I tell Ferris of my sale and she says she understands, but wished there could be some other way. That the townspeople would speak up, since we have been here so long, and gave their children toys that they enjoyed for so long, but of course no such thing will happen, because it’s the new fangled brand that always triumphs over the tried and true formula. I weep silently at night when my wife sleeps, because my purpose has been stolen from me. My life will be easier now though. I guess every cloud has a silver lining. I sigh as I sleep, my dreams telling of a time when my shop brought tears of joy to desperate parents, trying to find something for their children on Christmas Eve, when all the commercial places had sold out. They were all gone now though, and soon I will leave their lives forever.
Today is the last day for my little shop, the last day I will open her doors for the people, the last time I will smile as I see a child bounding with limitless energy looking at the wooden sword I had made the week before. I shift uncomfortably in my seat behind the counter, knowing that this may be the very last sale I make, but still, I know that this is what I must do. I open my mouth to speak.
“May I help you young man?” I say expectantly, ready for the smile and the enthusiastic nod of his boyish head. I point at the sword. “That sword won’t break for nothin’.”
The boy smiles and states simply “Toys R’ Us has a better one.” And the boy nods and starts to walk out my door. I smile at him and nod blankly. “I’m sure they do, son, I’m sure they do”. I silently get up, holding down the tears I feel welling up inside of me. Silent still, I turn off the lights, and lock up shop.
For the last time.
Now I laugh as I drive by my old shop, remembering the fine times I had in there. Knowing that when I die, my shop will be waiting for me in heaven, because that’s what makes me the happiest. Because this world is a test for the willing, and those who pass will receive infinite happiness later on.