You going to feed the ducks?
I stopped in my tracks and raised a quizzical eyebrow at the man who had just uttered the oddest fucking sentence I had ever heard.
Sorry?
I asked as if he were one of those annoying dogs that were always getting erections.
The ducks, you know?
Duck-Man nodded at me knowingly.
I took a very small step back onto my killing foot, ready for an attack. The man was obviously bonkers and might go off like a cheap firework at any moment.
I threw a penetrating gaze up and down him. He wasn't much too look at, glasses, mid-forties. It was almost like looking at myself without the muscles and handsomosity that I carry with such panache.
Duck-Man frowned slightly as if his wife had forgotten to butter his scone.
Back at the little river, hadn't you heard?
He said, smiling uncertainly.
I took a mighty sniff in through my nostrils.
Ducks? In the little river that babbled cheerfully nearby in the woods? Preposterous, I had never heard such utter twaddle in my whole life.
I narrowed my eyes and lifted my head up like an eagle spying a rabbit.
It was quite clear now. The man was one of two things.
He was either a spy and had mistaken me for one of his wire-tapping brethren.
Or, he was as gay as a lord and was trying to lure me into the woods for some boaby-wrangling.
I quickly discounted the second option. He couldn't be gay because my astonishing good looks and zippy personality, not to mention desirably silky penis were obviously way out of his league.
That meant he had to be a spy.
But in our local woods? The idea was outlandish but I had long known that my incredible intellect would eventually be noticed by those on high.
Duck-Man nodded and made to move past me.
It was obviously a test.
Well, I would not be found wanting.
Up that way you say? The little river?
I smiled back, my hands held out to the side just enough to show that I could destroy him with a deadly axe-hand double strike or equally clasp him close to my breast and declare him a brother.
Um, yes. Just saw them today. Everyone's talking about them.
Duck-Man bumbled as if he weren't a cut-price James Bond, going about his business.
Perhaps, they flew in... at midnight?
I stated with a wink.
Erm, yes. Possibly. I don't know if they fly at midnight though?
He said uncertainly, taking a step further away from me.
That my friend, depends entirely on the type of duck...
I turned and left him digesting that. I couldn't help but smile.
Looked like a career in Her Majesty's Secret Service beckoned me and I think that is was safe to say...
I was ready.
