The Hat-Man. Poem by Mary X

It was an evening that Hat-man would never forget. Under the cynical eyes of onlookers he made many mistakes and one that would seal the fate of his increasingly bigoted egotistical lie of a life. 'Hat-man! ' cried the onlookers with fire in their eyes, 'Drink up this Tabasco sauce Hat-man! —bet you can't do it! ' Of course these were clever onlookers, they knew this hat-man like a child knows it's toys—how could he refuse? Afterall it was his ego that had been challenged in the shape of the shot glass full to the brim of mind-melting Tabasco sauce.

He glanced at it showing no sign of terror; behind these striving eyes, this jaw that showed no weaknesses was a trembling shrimp. He took off his hat, slowly and placed it on the table next to the shot. 'I've had hotter than this before, ' he said sneering at the onlookers. Here was his spotlight, his moment, and his big finale to end the evening with nothing more poignant, nothing better than the proclamation of his own ego. He scooped up the shot glass and eyed it up; held it under his nose. The onlookers saw that peer-pressured little boy and encouraged the pride in it to prove itself.

With one huge gulp he knocked back the shot, straight to the back of his throat, sat still with the swallow and awkwardly placed the glass back on the table. The sauce stung unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life, so much so that he questioned whether it was nitric acid he had just gobbled down in a fit of pure egoism. Still, he remained showing no weakness; his limitation had surely been surpassed—the onlookers pondered. Yet he sat there as still as before! —'See...didn't do a thing! ...' he said fanning out his hands to either side. Then, without warning, he shot open his eyes as wide as they could physically go as if in an extreme case of shock. He grasped the handles on his seat tight and pushed his head back stiffly.

The onlookers laughed and one of them picked up his hat and smacked it onto his head. Hat-man sat squeezing the chair as if being electrocuted still with wide, bloodshot eyes, 'Guys...I'm...' he let out a noise resembling a pig. The onlookers were still laughing at his pride-game, kicking themselves with jokes. Hat-man's eyes began to bulge out of his head towards the table until they got so far away from his face—so squeezed away from their sockets—that they simply let out a 'POP' and bounced onto the table like rubber balls. The onlookers sat silent, for the first time realizing the seriousness of Hat-man's position.

He began to tremble and shake, as if he were having a seizure, letting out strained noises of agony. One of his eyeballs fell from the table and exploded as it hit the floor. Hat-man began to open his mouth wide, squeezing out through his convulsed state, 'H...EL..P...' His jaw opened so wide that it separated at the hinge and fell calmly onto his lap. His tongue squirmed like a worm, up and down. He began to slowly change shape starting from his shoulders. They bulged and buckled out until rounded like his head; it followed like this down to his legs until he looked like a giant mis-shaped rugby ball.

The onlookers could not believe their eyes, they looked on without knowing what to do. Hat-man then without pause began to shrink. And by this point he had changed to a swollen looking purple. He shrunk and shrunk until his shape began to make sense. He let out a scream that rose in pitch until his shrinking body closed his mouth up and he lay there, inanimate, inside the hat he walked through the door in, as a shrivelled red chilli.