May I ask?

Affluent suburbia on the very first days of the New Depression, it's been raining all morning even though is late november. Rain pisses people off, specially here, a world away from their rainy Britannia of origin, only to find themsleves soaking wet and without a Sunday Times to cover their heads. I take refuge in the local library.

When I leave, with my mind full of Richard Dawkins, Jim Jones and Angela Davis, and a "15 minute chinese" book from DK, it's rain no more, but that somewhat sinister cloud that follows her, which is when you ask yourself whether god pressed the rinse and dry buttons after the mere washing. I walk down Cochrane avenue and I reach the pond, where a lovely couple of paradise ducks is raising three ducklings to the whole community's endearment. I walk close because I want to see them. What I see is a couple of humans, and a dog, an ice cooler and a long knife.

The dog is barking away the ducks behind the reeds, it's got a metallic collar, I think it's a bull terrier. The couple is walking towards me, I presume the resumed whatever they were doing when they saw me coming. I find myself not afraid at the sight of the long knife, I'm beyond fear, it's the flipside of uncertain destiny. Instead I stare at the knife holder's eyes, which are dark blue and offer that kind of sympathetic hello usually reserved for dark alley streets in the gay center of Madrid. I raise my chin, I walk pass, I turn around, he turns around, there's of course another person, a woman with massive red hair, but she ain't holding no knife.

- "May I ask?", I say
- "Sure, what is it?"
- "What's the knife for?"
- "Fishing"
-"Aw"
-"..."
-"Was it good...the fishing"
-"twas alright"

I continue walking on my way, thinking of what it would feel like to see the tip of that knife coming through my chest. Thinking of the allure of evil, is it true that Satan is always eager to employ you? Walking beneath the heavy cloud of thunder, the ducks give me a concerned look as I pass.