This is soap for your feet. You either know what that is, or can jump in the forum to ask other people about it.

Why aren’t we giving you more info? Well, we weren’t sure what to write for the Meh-rathon so we decided to look at some past Meh write-ups for inspiration. (You can find a random one here, if you want.) Unfortunately, all that did was make us nostalgic and maybe a little teary-eyed. And then the boss was all “Where’s the write-ups, writer dude?” and we panicked and… uhh… Please enjoy this classic write-up about an entirely different product! Also, feel free to share in the forum if you find one you liked or forgot about or missed entirely.

My father warned me. He said, “Herlig, you shan’t find satisfaction in the life of a Safety Boy. It is a dying profession.” But I had already received a full-tuition scholarship to the esteemed L’Academie Sécurité, the foremost Safety Boy training school in all of Paris, and I was not about to turn that down on the advice of a man who’d never even made it beyond the rank of Pre-Inspector at the local boot factory. So off I went, and when, upon graduation, I was given a position as chief Safety Boy at Lord Vientino’s Chateau, I thought I had proven my father wrong once and for all. But a year into my employment, Lord Vientino invested in a SimpliSafe Shield Wireless Home Security System.

He told me it was only for “a little added safety,” and I believed him at first. I even thought that we–the SimpliSafe and me–could enjoy something of a sibling rivalry. But I soon saw I was outmatched. The SimpliSafe came with entry sensors, which could be placed at various castle doors and windows to monitor their opening and closing. I, on the other hand, had to dash from window to door to window throughout the day, smelling each sill for the palm residue left behind by ill-intended intruders. And yes, at L’Academie they’d called me Houndish Herlig, on account of my superior sense of smell, but it was not sufficient to compete with my newly adopted brother, the SimpliSafe.

Nor were my eyes as strong as its security camera capable of 720p HD quality. Nor were my lungs as powerful as either of its sirens: not the extra 105 decibel one, nor even the built-in siren in the system’s base station. Furthermore, the SimpliSafe’s alarm could continue even with its keypad smashed, whereas I had once been bribed into admitting thieves to the Chateau with nothing more than a fine Flemish toffee. Perhaps most damning, though: the SimpliSafe featured its own cellular connection, meaning there was no landline that could be cut to disable it. As a Safety Boy, I also required no landline connection; I was, however, susceptible to sharp objects.

Within a month of the SimpliSafe Shield Wireless Home Security System’s installation, I tendered my resignation. Lord Vientino feigned surprise but we both knew it was the right thing to do. I returned home and now work as an Assistant Pre-Inspector at the boot factory. During the slower hours, I’ll often think of the SimpliSafe. You might imagine that I’d be bitter, and sometimes I am. But at L’Academie, we had a saying: “The safety comes before the boy.”

So I must respect the SimpliSafe, even if it ruined me.