Editorial: Excuses, Excuses . . .
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen    
All rights reserved


The Following is a true story.  Completely, 100% true.  It explains
Sunlight Through The Shadow's absence from the electronic magazine racks
for the last month.  Read it at your own risk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------


At approximately 11:05pm on Oct. 31st, 1994, the offices of Sunlight
Through The Shadows were broken into.  Dozens of masked ninjas carrying
word processor and workgroups for windows were immediately upon us,
forcing us to the ground, ordering us to cover our heads with our hands.

They quickly bound and gagged us, ordering us to stay as quiet and
motionless as possible.  Being scared for our lives, of course we
complied.

The operation was flawless.  They were in and out inside of two minutes
flat.  No computers were stolen.  The CD collection was left intact.
Upon first inspection (after I managed to wriggle free from my bonds)
I'd curiously thought they'd failed to take anything.  Moments later,
I'd managed to free my companions of their bonds as well.

Confused and in shock, we stumbled to our collective feet, checked each  
other for fatalities (there were none) and breathed a deep sigh of
relief. 

Further inspection, though, revealed the awful, horrific truth: they'd
made copies of the current magazine - hours before distribution was to
begin! - and erased it from the hard drive.  A month's worth of work,
gone.  Like a wisp of smoke.  Destroyed.

"The Bastards!" Yelled Assistant Editor Shawn Aiken, immediately
reaching for his illegal copy of Word Perfect 6.1.  Loading the
formidable weapon in less time than it takes most people to say
"Putaki", Shawn was almost out the door and after our assailants before
I managed to grab his shoulder and spin him around.

"Shawn, man, it's not worth it."  I explained to him.  "These guys
could've killed us, and all they took was the magazine.  Let it be."

"But we put so much work into this!" He growled.  "My twelve part essay
on the explanation of the beginning of life!  The first chapter in that
new novel you just sold to Doubleday for 1.2 million!"

"My lengthy and verbose analyzation of all of Shakespeare's sonnets and
poems. . ." Chimed in house poet Tamara.  

"My reviews of the last fifty years in movies, complete with footnotes
and biographies on every actor and actress that appeared in each movie,
down to the guy that got killed in the opening scene of the rarely
viewed thriller GOOD GUYS DON'T WEAR POLYESTER. . ." Added Bruce
Diamond, our erstwhile movie critic.

"What about MY work?" Interjected Heather DeRouen, face in tears.  "I'd
finally completed the essay that would cure all diseases, end nuclear
build up, and put a chicken in every pot.  And it's gone!  All gone!"

All eyes turned to the door, upon which a soft knock was heard to
emanate.  

"Was that a soft knock emanating from the door?"  I asked, instantly
knowing it was.

"I think it was."  Answered Shawn, his ire gone for the moment.  "Well,
maybe we should answer it."

"What if it's those ninjas back to finish the job?"  Trembled Bruce,
brandishing a pair of deadly spiked movie passes.  "They won't get away
with this."

The knock rang through again, accompanied by a voice:  "Joe, it's me.
Tommy.  Got room in the magazine for a few reviews and sports articles? 
I know it's late, but. . ."

I ran to the door, swept it upon, and pulled Tommy Van Hook inside.
"How many reviews, Tommy, how many reviews?"  I asked him, madness
creeping into my voice.

Backing up, looking confused, he managed a half-smile.  "Four or five.
And some poetry too.  And a couple of sports articles.  And . . ."

His words were cut off by the group hug that ensued, as we all ran to
embrace the last minute gift from the god of electronic magazines.
"Yes, we have room!"  I exclaimed, thinking that, with Tommy's material,
we just might recoup and be able to put out a double issue in time for
December!  

"I'm the God of Electronic Magazine's gift?"  Smiled Tommy, drowning in the
arms of our affection.  "Cool."

"He didn't actually *say* that."  Heather said.  "Look up.  He only
*thought* it.  We wouldn't want you to get too big of a head."

Tamara smiled, and nodded.  "You know, for this timely intervention we
should probably make Tommy a member of the staff."

"I second that motion!"  Yelled Bruce, putting away his deadly spiked
movie passes.  

"Done!"  I smiled, laying hands on the surprised Mr. Van Hook.  A ball
of blue light moved down my arm, swelled, and entered into the new
Poetry Editor's chest.  After that, things were never the same.  

We won't get into Sunlight Through The Shadow's recent application for
bankruptcy due to Tommy's demands of exorbitant fees, nor shall we get
into who was ultimately behind the ninja's theft.  That shall remain
another story, for another time.


