Conest Entry: Phil's Letter

Written to the prompt:Tomorrow is Groundhog’s Day. Write a story or poem about the Groundhog, but not about seeing his shadow or not.


The President of the Groundhog Club
Co-Handlers Bill Hughes and John Griffiths
Members of the Inner Circle

2 February 2010

Dear Sirs,

As you know, thirteen generations of my family and four generations of yours have, for the last 124 years, served as this great nation’s winter prognosticators. Every year on this date, we gather at Gobbler’s Knob and host a multitude of weatherfolk, photographers, reporters, curious onlookers, bored-out-of-their-mind New Englanders, and millions of glassy-eyed television viewers who have lost their remote controls. Together, we celebrate the forecasting of either the end or the continuation of winter. (And might I insert here that, regardless of the presence or absence of my shadow, because spring does not begin until the Vernal Equinox on March 20th or 21st, there will ALWAYS be six more weeks of winter).

The money generated from this annual publicity stunt is tremendous! And not just from the throngs of visitors crammed in every quaint little hotel, bed and breakfast, and temporarily converted home. No! There are all the meals consumed in restaurants, the gasoline purchased at local stations, not to mention the souvenirs and chotchkies. Think of the money raked in from plush toys, t-shirts, and “PETA’s robot can kiss my shadow!” bumper stickers! In short, Groundhog Day has become Punxsutawney’s Mardi Gras and Superbowl combined!

Now, there is no doubt that you all have made a fortune from this affair. Put bluntly, you are filthy rich. The town’s coffers are overflowing. There is nothing wanted or needed by anyone in the area which cannot be readily afforded.

My lovely wife, Phyllis, and I, however, have an utterly different experience. While our home near the children’s section of the Punxsutawney Public Library is relatively comfortable, compared to yours, we might as well be living in a federal prison. We have no privacy. No opportunity to select our meals or our activities. No ability to travel to Wood’s Edge or Open Glade or Alfalfa Fields to visit our kinfolk, (nor, might I add, have they ever been permitted to visit us here).

Therefore, since this year’s Groundhog Day festivities are now over and you will have almost a full year to consider this, I am today making the following demands:

1.           On the first day of each month, beginning January 1, 2011, you will convert into coin and deposite into my burrow one-tenth of all revenues earned from my likeness and prognostications.

2.           By February 1, 2010, you will provide Phyllis and me with a new burrow to call our own. It will be located in the country, on secluded grounds well-seeded with alfalfa grass and sweet clover. The borrow must have at least ten gloriously appointed rooms, five entrances, and be at least five feet underground .

3.          Each April first, you will take my wife and me to the extravagant destination of our choice so that we may mate in luxurious privacy and raise our children in comfort and style.

4.          When the children are six weeks old and ready to venture into the world, you will bring them to my uncle Phinneas’ burrow in Wood’s Edge where he and his relations will assume parental responsibilities for them. You will provide Phinneas with anything and everything he needs.

5.          You will collect any relatives wishing to visit us in Punxsutawney and bring them to the new home. They will be allowed to stay as long as they like.

6.          Each October, you will allow Phyllis and me to retire to the cozy confines of our burrow for our annual hibernation.

7.          And finally, each February when you retrieve me from my slumbers, you will serve me a breakfast of gin – neat, and lots of it – so that I may once again, half awake and bleary-eyed, greet the gathered hordes on Gobbler’s Knob to see if I have a shadow.

Agree to these demands and we and our kin will celebrate yet another 124 years together. Fail to deliver good on even one of these and next Groundhog Day you can find out if skunks can prognosticate.

Respectfully and sincerely,

Punxsutawney Phil, XIII

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