I am a tool, a pawn, a player in some larger scheme that I don't fully understand and that I can't hope to control. At first, I was an unknowing participant but now I can't stop it. I'm the tool of lesbian forces bent on world domination.
It all started innocently enough. I won a free hat. We all have played this game. That's why people go to College Fest at the convention center every year; they go to get free stuff. However, all the free stuff is just advertising. We know this, but College students are more than willing to be walking billboards. For most of us, it is the only way we are productive members of society during our four years of school. Even so, there was something different about this hat.
The first thing that struck me was the colors. It was pink and black. In black the hat declared, "This is about," and in pink it finished the sentence, "Smith." This is about Smith. What the hell does that mean? I immediately put on the hat because it was free, but I was enthralled by its bewildering statement. My feeble mind was instantly under its spell.
In the weeks that have passed since then, however, strange things have been happening which made me question the merits of the Hat. For one, all my old hats are missing. I can't find my really cool canoeing hats or my winter hat. The only hat that I can find is my Smith hat. So, when I roll out of bed and dash to class, my only option is to be about Smith until I can get home and wash up. That's another thing, my alarm clock doesn't work anymore. I wake up 5 minutes before class all the time, despite triple checking my alarm the night before. Other things around my room have changed. My tape of the Simpsons has been replaced with Ally Mcbeal. I can't find this month's issue of Maxim. I can only blame one thing. It's the Hat. The Hat is evil. Its enchanted with some curse that attacks the testosterone in my life. It has eaten all my other hats. It ate Maxim. It erased the Simpsons. God knows what's next.
Those clever lesbians. I realize now that I never had a chance. The dirty lesbians at Smith have hatched a diabolically sinister plan to take over the world. And now, I am their unwilling accomplice. They created this evil Hat, knowing that I could not resist a free hat with a vague slogan. After that, I was a goner. I mean, come on, I'm a guy. Guys need hats as much as we need sports and nachos. The wicked lesbians knew this and their plan, if left unchecked, could be the end of guydom as we know it.
The Hat is slowly destroying my possessions and my life. There is no hope for me. I have tried to throw away the Hat, but the next day, I found myself rummaging through the garbage to recover the only piece of head covering I have left. I could buy another hat, but in days, the Hat will just eat it. Soon I will be left with no wardrobe except for a pink and black bathrobe and the accursed Hat. Though I can't save myself, I can save others. Men, beware. Lesbians are using our own manhood against us. They have turned the hat, an essential male accessory into a testosterone-munching fiend. God only knows where they will hit next. Be extremely wary of black and pink punching bags, monkey wrenches, and jock straps.
It doesn't stop with two colors and a bunch of crazy lesbians though. Don't blindly accept any piece of garbage tossed your poor-college-student way. It might be the work of the global conspiracy of a small but powerful malcontents trying to destroy your way of life. Whether it is a couple of angry lesbians, communists, or Riki Martin himself, consumers beware. The ramifications of your actions may be dire. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go buy the new Ani DeFranco CD.
