The porta potty plot (part4)

beware of ducks

When I laid eyes on Ricky after the break I could tell that something was up.

He was struggling and flailing and had a face like a smacked arse.

I’ve been reading what you’ve written about me, he spat. What the hell is your problem?

Puzzled, I pressed him What are you talking about Ricky?

I’m talking about the porta potty plot. You’re making fun of me.

Ricky had a point. I was.

You’ve got a point Ricky. And? I’m getting tired of your shit. My dear readers are getting tired of your shit.

Ricky looked like he was ready to strap bombs to his belly and walk into a busy shopping mall.

You’re getting tired of my shit? I’m the one putting up with your farts all day and every day.

Again, he had a point, Look bud when I gotta fart, I gotta fart.

That’s fine, but naming them? I don’t need to know about the seven deadly Jims nor their unique characteristics. Your arsehole isn’t a winery.

Once again, Ricky had a point. For those of you not keeping score dear reader, that’s three for Ricky, none for this fool.

Speaking of points Ricky, when are you going to get to the point and explain the porta potty plot for me and the readers? For three foolsletter now, you’ve experimented with tension and attempted to pull people along with shallow, transparent quasi cliffhanger devices. The idea of a shit fuelled conspiracy theory is begging to stink.

Ricky let out an exasperated sigh. Ok. Do you really want to know?

My response couldn’t be any more deadpan. Fuck off Ricky. Tell the story or just fuck off.

Defeated, Ricky continued. Fine. In Halifax, what brand of porta potties do you see most frequently?

That was easy. Little blue temples of poo were everywhere around town. Whether at construction sites or homeless encampments you couldn’t throw a dead cat in the city without hitting one of them.

The Royal Flush?

Ricky nodded excitedly.

That’s it bud, the Royal Flush. And do you know why they are here?

Again, Ricky was asking an obvious one.

Sure Rick. When Charles and Diana visited Halifax in 1983 it was the first time in the city’s history that the government required portable toilets for the crowd. The company was established for that very reason.

Ricky was beginning to smile. And who owns The Royal Flush?

He had me stumped. I dunno, the Sobeys? The Irvings? The Joudrie Family? Risley?

I guessed the usual suspects - the families that basically control all of Atlantic Canada.

All good guesses but AAAAAAANNNH! (Ricky made the sound of a shock buzzer)

You’re wrong Jimmy. It’s the House of Saxe-Coburg and Goethe.

Ricky had me stumped again. Who?

The House of Saxon-Coburg and Goethe - The British Royal Family and German Lizard people!

Lizard people? My jaw dropped. Ricky was revealing himself as a loon.

It gets worse. They’re all part of it bud. All of the usual suspects. Financing came from the Rothschilds, technology from the Du Ponts and distribution from the Rockefellers.

Oh god. And I thought Ricky’s rants about corporations were tiresome. Where were we going next? This seems ridiculous Rick. Why on earth would they be involved in a conspiracy around porta potties?

Ricky clenched the wheel and buried the throttle. The truck roared alongside of Ricky’s agitation. Cui bono? Follow the money bud.

Oh dear. Here we go… What exactly are they doing with the porta potties? Are they using our turds to make some sort of super food? Are the powers that be attempting to feed us our own shit?

Ricky brightened. EXACTLY! But that’s just the beginning! The rot runs deeper and the plot gets much more nefarious! They’re harvesting our DNA and other data from our poo!

I sat dumbfounded. How could anyone so well educated be so stupid?

Ricky continued: They’re using our DNA as well as RNA vaccines to control us! You see, they collect samples of our DNA from these systems, match it with biometric data collected by security cameras, cell phone footage and other sources to create a digital record of who we are. Then, when you go to get a vaccine, they implant you with a unique chip that’s designed just for you. After that, they just flip a switch and it can be activated.

None of this made any sense to me: How does it get activated?

As sober as a judge, Ricky responded: Cellphone towers, 5g signals, loss prevention systems at stores, ducks. They have their ways.

Ducks?

Yeah. Ducks. Of course.

While I shook my head, Ricky reached down into the storage box in the truck. From it he produced a duck feather. It sparked with electricity. He handed it to me. When I turned it over I was shocked to discover that it was embedded with micro chips.

Ducks are robots.

Again, Ricky had accomplished the impossible. He managed to leave me dumbstruck.

And remember bud, the toilets are listening.