CONSPIRACY THEORY
I glance down at the toilet while brushing my teeth.
The seat has grown two small handles on either side.
I rinse out my mouth and look again.
There are dozens of handles on the seat
Now slowly rotating.
I step back as it spins faster and faster
Lifting into the air.
I follow it upward to the ceiling dissolving
Into a clear blue sky
Darkening with hats
Spinning hats
Specific hats
Men's dress hats.
The handles drift off the toilet seat and intermingle with the
Spinning hats,
A spinning show of hats for me that is trying to tell me something.
"JFK", they whisper.
"JFK, JFK.
JFK never wore a hat.
JFK put an end to us and that's why he was killed."
I gasp at the truth.
It wasn't a lone gun man,
A commie mole,
A left wing troll.
It wasn't the CIA or the Military Industrial Complex.
It was couture!
Suddenly I am surrounded by a whirlwind of hissing handles.
"What about Bobby?
What about Martin Luther King?
What about 911?"
Now I am angry.
"What about you, what about me,
What about LSD?"
"Coco Chanel tested it on unwitting victims.", they moan.
"Christian Dior invented the Conspiracy Theory to cover up the world it poisoned.
All three were assassinated and 911 was an inside job.
But they weren't,
And it wasn't.
There is no sense because when there is no sense,
There is no saving it!
Only Nazis in polo shirts can defeat the terrorists.
Only Wall Street funded cross dressing lesbians can defeat the Nazis.
The fedora is history and men are wearing high heals and skirts into battle against the
Russian
Commie
Bolsheviks!"
The toilet seat falls towards me
"Hush, my child.
Drink from my fountain and welcome the bliss of dreams.
The Jews will save us from the Muslims.
Jesus will save us from the Jews.
But only the iPhone can lead us to the Promised Land."
The hats billow around me like a flock of crows.
The tornado of handles lift me off my feet.
The insidious
Toilet
Handle
Hat
Agency
Complex
has me now.
It has us all.
copyright
Richard Talbot Hill
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