Published: March 22nd 2022, 4:42:41 am
Note: Random story from a prompt by my friend Dirt Coyote. The prompt was 'a cult'. When prompted further, he said something like, 'A hippie dippy cult'. This was pretty fun! What do you think will happen next?
The young man held up the faded, dog-eared photo from the shoebox. It was sepia, but only because of age, the colors having faded to dull browns, oranges, and grays.
"This was you?" he asked, pointing to a man in his 20's with long hair, a beard, and both arms around the shoulders of two other figures.
"Heh, yeah... That was me..." the old man said, looking almost sheepish as he sat across from the young man at the kitchen table.
"And you were wearing...?"
The older man shifted, recrossing his legs with a crinkle. He must have known the question was coming, surely. So why was he uncomfortable?
"Sorry, I shouldn't have..." started the young man, but the old man waved away his apology.
"No, no. It's fine, you had to ask. It's your job, I know. I was young. We all were. Young and dumb and full of... well, you know..."
"I know," said the man, blushing now. "Uh... and how did all of this... uh... this tradition. How did it get started?"
"Well, it all started with..." the old man stared into the distance, and thought. The scent of fresh piss wafted from his diaper as he shifted with an audible squish.
"You, uh... did you...?" asked the young man, blushing even brighter now. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business, but..."
"Oh, damnit," said the old man. "I don't have any control over it now. It's all because of that damned diaper cult. Let me get changed and I'll tell you how it all went down."
"Okay," said the young man, clasping his hands and staring between his knees. He had been excited for this excitement, but he hadn't been prepared for this. This was a juicy scoop, sure, but suddenly it was getting a little too juicy..."
"Do you want one?" called the old man, who had gotten up and tottered to the adjacent room from the kitchen.
"Want what?" asked the man, from his chair, still staring down at the floor between his feet, awash in the vertigo of embarrassment at this awkward situation.
"A diaper, of course," said the man, poking his head out the door to be better heard around the corner of the hall.
"Are you kidding?" yelled the younger man, to be heard.
"What?" called the older man. "Quitting?"
"Oh... this is ridiculous," said the young man, standing up and walking over to the hall. "I said are you kidding? I don't wear diapers."
"Oh, really?" asked the older man. "But how will you be able to report on the full story if you can't experience it for yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"See what all the rage was about. See why so many of us threw away our control for a silly dream. You can try to write about it. Or you can try it."
The younger man paused, beginning to see the older man's point. It was certainly hard to write about something you couldn't experience for yourself.
"Well..."
"Oh, come on. It's just a diaper. It's not going to bite you," said the older man. "Live a little."
"Like you did?" asked the younger man, but the older man just slapped his shoulder and waved him over into the room.
"The diapers are right here, my man," said the old man, seemingly more animated than he had been at any point during their interview.
"You sure these aren't going to make me incontinent or something?" asked the younger man, looking and sounding quite nervous.
"Yeah, I'm sure. That part comes later," said the older man, picking up the diaper, covered in daisy stickers, and thrusting it against the younger man's chest.
"What was that?" asked the younger man.
"Nothing. Here you go. Put it on, unless you need help?"
The young man looked at the older man for a second, then grabbed the diaper.
"Nah. I got it," he said, taking the diaper and walking out into the hall. "Which way is your bathroom?"
"Over to the left," said the old man, jabbing his finger thatta way. He leaned out of the doorway as the man walked down the hall and smiled to himself before backing back into the room and grabbing his own fresh diaper.
Ten minutes later they were back in the kitchen, the old man looking considerably more comfortable, the young man looking considerably less.
"You feel better?" asked the old man. "How do you like it?"
"It's uh... it's..." the young man blushed, reluctant to admit that it felt pretty damn good. "It's different."
"Don't I know it." The old man smiled a knowing smile, and dug through the shoebox to pull out another folder. Three young men and two women sitting on the hood of a sports car, smiling at the camera.
"It all started in the summer of '76. We were going to San Francisco to see what all the buzz was about. Word was that there was something going down. A real big change. Nobody in our little group thought it would be a diaper change. But that part was thanks to Daisy."
"Wait, so Daisy is a person?" asked the young man.
"Was a person," corrected the old man. "Mama Daisy, she called herself, and pretty soon we all called her that."
"So what got you all thinking about wearing diapers? Bad acid?" asked the younger man, adjusting the recorder that was sitting on the table.
"No, no. Not that. It was... it was symbolism," said the older man. "Symbolism was everything, you see. The diaper was a... a protest against the conventions of society. Against the man who told us to keep it in our pants, but not to go in our pants, you see. Our motto was, tune in, drop out, drop a load."
"Kind of catchy," said the younger man.
"We thought so. Anyway, it all started as a bit of fun. See, sit ins had been pretty effective, so we took it a step further. Occupied the park with a shit in. Had diapers stacked up to the branches in that park. Had changing crews going 24/7."
"So that's how you got it on the news, right? Just kept it going til they noticed?"
"It worked, alright. A little too well," said the old man, shaking his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you see... once you do something that extreme, half measures aren't going to cut it. The moment the diapers came off, the cameras and recorders shut off. It had become part of our schtick. Part of our mystique. Then, we started the food program..."
"The one that fed all the hungry people in the city, right?"
"Anyone and everyone," said the old man, smiling at the memory of himself and his friends ladling out potato stew while stewing in their diapers. A free diaper with every meal. "The diaper companies loved it..."
"But the government, not so much?"
"They thought we made em look bad. Did a better job taking care of their people than they did. Ha!"
"What about the commune? When did that start?"
"That was started the night they chased us out of the park. Just up the panhandle, we cleaned up a couple flop houses, knocked out the walls in between and voila."
"And then what happened? All most of us remember is the video of the people getting carted off to the looney bin. Dressed as big babies and babbling incomprehensible gibberish."
"Well, you see, that's the part that no one knows," said the old man, his eyes shining with animated excitement now. "I can't tell you... I'll have to show you... but first, you'll have to help me get out of here."
"You can't go on your own?"
"No. They're watching," said the old man.
The younger man stared at him steadily for a few seconds.
"Well, I think I'm done here. Thank you for your time, Mister-"
"Don't you want to know what no one else could find out? They all walked out. But you thought you were different. Why don't you prove it?" asked the old man.
The young man stood there for a second. Shook his head, then shifted from foot to foot, crinkling with each shift.
"Ok. Fine. Let's go. Just let me take this diaper off first..."
"No." said the old man, resolutely. "The diaper stays on."
"What?"
"The diaper stays on. That's part of the deal. You might need it when you hear about what went on in there."
The young man shook his head and made an incredulous sound, but his expression was an amused one.
"Ok. Fine, you crazy old coot. Let's go."
"Good choice, crinkle butt," said the old man, brushing past the young man to walk toward the back of the house.
"Just leave like you're done with the interview, then bring the car around back and I'll try and sneak in. See you in five."
"See you in five," said the younger man. "Crazy old coot," he muttered as he walked out to his car and waved at no one. "This better be worth it."