Monday, 28 September 2009

I watched the man playing with his dog. Not in a creepy way, you understand, but just because he was near the bench I was sitting on, and I was bored.
"Who's a good boy?" He asked cheerily.
I watched as he happily hugged the dog, then threw a stick for it to fetch.
"Who is it?" He asked again, this time more aggressively. I watched, unsure if he expected the dog to answer. Then, slowly, he turned to me:
"Who... is... a... good... BOY?"
I looked at him sadly. I don't know who, in today's valueless society, we could call 'good', but it certainly wasn't me. I kill mimes, you see.
They never complain...

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