The Conspiracy Brothers spoke in low tones so the air wouldn’t overhear. They were disappointed. Disappointed by the current climate of things. It wasn’t weather they whispered about, though the constant spring rain did bother the brother wearing flip-flops, it was the atmosphere of politics and discontent. They saw mumblings of crumbled mandates and undercurrents of revolution on their computer screens; imagined as runic Matrix symbols barely beneath the veneer of polished pictures and carefully constructed rants by posed figurines on their favorite blogs, their most secret forums.
The Conspiracy Brothers stood just inside the larger brother’s cubicle, with its tastefully constructed nonconformist wallpaper, and hushed their latest findings to one another. They glanced about, careful of their privacy and right to free speech. The brother in the flip flops fingered a butterfly knife he wore clipped to his right pocket.
Secret Service Agents had hookers in South America! Vile. Obviously nothing that would have been tolerated under Father Regan’s loving rule.
They crossed themselves in respect to the dead.
The country was falling apart and only a chosen few had wisdom enough to save it from the agendas, the liberals, the media, the godless, the depraved, the soulless, the scientists, the bankers, the minorities, the faceless hordes, the crazies, the zombies (OH GOD! THE ZOMBIES!), the hipsters and their uncouth hippie cousins, the druggies (except Weed, that was okay–it was a medical necessity for the larger brother, his knees hurt sometimes), the Muslims, the politicians (the ones that didn’t see things THEIR way), the people who took their guns and their jobs, Flouride, vaccinations, gays, Microsoft, anyone who told them to stop whispering and get back to work.
The Conspiracy Brothers whispered for an hour before breaking for lunch, where they hatched plans and made solutions to fix their troubled nation over a burrito. Two hours later they returned to work, their respective cubicles (each with the fluorescent lights carefully removed so they’d avoid unwanted light) and reviewed their RSS feeds.
The larger brother found a very interesting video on YouTube, watched it a few times and IM’d his comrade to come see. They each watched the screen, careful not to miss a thing. It was very interesting. They discussed it for some time before going home and chatting with each other from separate rooms of their shared apartment while playing Xbox360.
The world was going to fall apart.
The Conspiracy Brothers were going to fix it.
tags: writing, conspiracy, brothers, fiction, experimental, freewrite