A piece of my madness...

The Cone.

The love of my life would stop me from ever getting anywhere in politics. Bright orange and clothed in a little reflective top, it stands proud and literally stops traffic: my darling, my cone.
The fact that I lead a clean life just wouldn’t be enough to save me. I may not lie, cheat, steal, take drugs or commit acts of sexual deviancy, but because I show a fondness for an inanimate object I know people just wouldn’t accept me. There’s just no room in this world for a woman and her beloved traffic cone. I’ve just about gotten my boyfriend to understand why its bright colour lifts my spirits, that the smoothness of the plastic sends shivers down my spine and why I feel warm inside every time I see my face reflected upon its shiny surface in the right kind of light.
I could hide my secret quite well if I really needed too, under usual circumstances that is. I could have a special closet in my room in which to keep my cone, only go to specialist clubs at weekends wearing a paper bag over my head and I’d have no problem keeping my partner hushed because the shame alone keeps him silent. Unfortunately it’s just not that simple now.
During a drunken night out with some friends, I spotted a lonely cone out in the cold. It was abandoned at the side of the road, toppled over and covered in grit with a piece of that red and white tape tied around the top. My heart ached and my stomach lurched. I just couldn’t leave it there. Drunkenly I stumbled over and picked it up, taking it in my arms, hugging it tightly to my chest and dancing in circles back over to my slightly bewildered buddies. It stayed with us for the rest of our outing, each of us taking it in turns to clutch it and dance along, or argue with club bouncers about why we should be allowed to take it in with us. One friend even put it on his head, although I must admit that this act disgusted me slightly…I mean he didn’t even ask the poor thing first!
I don’t remember much else about that night, but I do remember waking up in a strange room with my head throbbing and a large orange blur clamped around my arms and staring me in the face. Next thing I know, a flash has gone off and I could hear someone cackling evilly.
I’m not sure who it was, but they have some very incriminating evidence. The moment I try to go into anything to do with politics that photograph would surface and my secret would be out.