It's All About Hattitude

On that day strange winds begin to blow
And a twisting squall swept very low
It's greedy hands reached way down
And snatched the red cap from a lost doll's head
There are many famous hats in history
So why can't a oyster's redcap be OK?

The answer was the worst of all
Just because
Just because
It could be seen
Just because
It happened to be
Just because
It's you, not me
Just because
It doesn't matter to me

Just because
A reason takes thought to prepare
Just because
Means nothing
Just because
It's you, not me
Just because
What does that really mean?

Just because

There are many famous hats in history
Sherlock Holmes' was framed in mystery
Abe Lincoln wore a stovepipe hat
And Davey Crockett a coonskin cap
A soldier might wear a green beret
So why can't an oyster's red cap be okay?

Well, it turns out that the answer was
The worst of all--just because
But what does that really, actually, truly mean?
Just because... it could be seen?
Just because... it happened to be?
Just because... it's you, not me?

A reason takes thought to prepare it
Blurting "Just because" lacks any merit
Power over others doesn't make wrong things right
Especially if that power is based on fright
But power's what the other oysters claimed
When "Get out now" was what they exclaimed

Why did they say that? It didn't matter
They were mad as the maddest hatter
Irrational thinking held the day
Indeed, all logic had lost its way
Years later, now, we know the reason why
Because that red cap dropped from the sky

On that day strange winds began to blow
And a twisting squall swept very low
Its greedy hands reached way down

To grab all things loose around
Including a smallish cap of bright red
That it snatched from a lost doll's head

And then that fateful random gust
Alive with airborne wanderlust
Carried the tiny cap across the sky
As if that bright red cap could fly
On delicate wings of knotted thread
Destined for a young oyster's head

Until the wind abruptly paused
Which caused
The cap to drop
And plop
Into a rapidly receding tide
From wind to water for another ride

That red cap floated out on a ripple
Like a dangling participle
(A phrase with its noun unknown)
Adrift, misplaced, and all alone
Until it drifted out, into the sea
And sank from its wave-tossed apogee

And just below was the oyster bed
Where that cap, so brightly red
Snagged tightly on our oyster's head
Held forever by knots of tangled thread
Which made the others there gasp with dread
As anxiety, quite unfounded, quickly spread

The other oysters, rest assure
Didn't like this strange couture
And one by one they started to stare

At the startled oyster, uneasily aware
Of a rising tide of harsh resentment
And rumbling waves of discontentment

Matters quickly grew thorny; tensions arose
As every oyster thumbed its nose
(Well, not in fact, just figuratively
As oysters can't, in reality
For they all lack thumbs and noses
And legs and feet and even toeses)

And then an old and crusty oyster pouted
"No bed head better be red," he shouted
"He's not like us; send him away
He's not the same; so, he can't stay"
Then, all the oysters started to chant
"No, he can't. No, he can't!"

The rants got uglier and even louder
"Go away, you're not allowed here!
Difference isn't accepted in this bed!
Expel him now" is what they said
"You have to go; you're not the same
If something happens, you're to blame!"

The little oyster gasped, then gagged on fear
"I'm just like you, like everyone here!
You know that's true
I know you do"
But it made no difference what he said
The others pushed him from the bed

None took time for fair reflection
None opposed such swift rejection
Intolerance was expressed without a thought

Because alike is good but unalike is not?
Why is being different not okay?
Would you have let the oyster stay?

Or force him into a world he didn't know?
A maze of currents in constant flow
Which is what the others did to him
They shoved him out, to sink or swim
And the little oyster was terrified
And sought a place where he could hide

Meanwhile, far below, where all woes go
A sinister fish swam alone, really slow
Those caught in his path turned and scattered
For avoiding Vidi was all that mattered
They fled and hid very far away
'Cause Vidi came to eat; not play

What Vidi sought was the perfect meal
Perhaps some shrimp he needn't peel
But best of all he savored oysters
Young ones most, because they're moisters
He presumed he'd see some, somewhere soon
His favorite meal—morning, night and noon