Conversational gambit.
Prose III
It was a bright, clear day. The sun shone cheerfully over the park. Joggers and dog-walkers went up and down the paths that snaked over the lawn. People were strewn across the grass on picnic blankets and park benches. On one of these benches sat a young man with a book in one hand. The other hand held a leash that led to a small, furry creature.
A girl walked by eating a soft pretzel. There was a bounce in her step and the sun in her hair. Her gaze fell upon the thing on the leash.
"Cute puppy," she remarked with a smile.
The young man lifted his eyes to the girl, then down to the "puppy", then back at the girl. "That is not a puppy. That is a conversational gambit."
"I beg your pardon?" She asked, puzzled.
"Unlike a dog," he answered "it has neither barked, ran, scampered, drooled, or at the very least, twitched. For the past hour, it has done nothing but stay still."
"I see. He is unnaturally stiff..."
"Like a conversational gambit, however," he went on, "he has given a lot of people reason to talk to me. Like you did just now. Since we got here, I learned that that couple over there is going to the beach this weekend, that kid wants his own treehouse, that lady's son has cancer, that guy's working on a kick-flip something or other and that our pastor is going to start a soup kitchen." He turned back to his book.
She looked thoughful for a minute. "So this is not a dog."
His eyes on his book, he replied, "As they say, if it looks like a duck..."
"Interesting." She raised the pastry in her hand. "How about this? What's this?"
He looked up, considering. "Looks like a pretzel, smells like a pretzel. And since you're eating the thing, it it's pretty much acting like a pretzel. It's a soft pretzel."
"That's what I thought." she said.
She breaks off a bit of the pretzel and tosses in front of that which was not dog. It looked at the piece for a split second then gobbled it up. Then it looked up at the girl wagging its tail, adorably expecting more.
"Oh look, a puppy." She reached out to pet it. She threw a glance at him. A glance laced with triumph. Not smug but not altogether humble either.
The sides of his mouth twitched upward. He searched for something to say but with his conversational gambit gone, he was at a loss for words.
All he had was a puppy.
(I don't remember what triggered this. I could have been in the park or I could have seen a dog. I think I saw a dog.)
It was a bright, clear day. The sun shone cheerfully over the park. Joggers and dog-walkers went up and down the paths that snaked over the lawn. People were strewn across the grass on picnic blankets and park benches. On one of these benches sat a young man with a book in one hand. The other hand held a leash that led to a small, furry creature.
A girl walked by eating a soft pretzel. There was a bounce in her step and the sun in her hair. Her gaze fell upon the thing on the leash.
"Cute puppy," she remarked with a smile.
The young man lifted his eyes to the girl, then down to the "puppy", then back at the girl. "That is not a puppy. That is a conversational gambit."
"I beg your pardon?" She asked, puzzled.
"Unlike a dog," he answered "it has neither barked, ran, scampered, drooled, or at the very least, twitched. For the past hour, it has done nothing but stay still."
"I see. He is unnaturally stiff..."
"Like a conversational gambit, however," he went on, "he has given a lot of people reason to talk to me. Like you did just now. Since we got here, I learned that that couple over there is going to the beach this weekend, that kid wants his own treehouse, that lady's son has cancer, that guy's working on a kick-flip something or other and that our pastor is going to start a soup kitchen." He turned back to his book.
She looked thoughful for a minute. "So this is not a dog."
His eyes on his book, he replied, "As they say, if it looks like a duck..."
"Interesting." She raised the pastry in her hand. "How about this? What's this?"
He looked up, considering. "Looks like a pretzel, smells like a pretzel. And since you're eating the thing, it it's pretty much acting like a pretzel. It's a soft pretzel."
"That's what I thought." she said.
She breaks off a bit of the pretzel and tosses in front of that which was not dog. It looked at the piece for a split second then gobbled it up. Then it looked up at the girl wagging its tail, adorably expecting more.
"Oh look, a puppy." She reached out to pet it. She threw a glance at him. A glance laced with triumph. Not smug but not altogether humble either.
The sides of his mouth twitched upward. He searched for something to say but with his conversational gambit gone, he was at a loss for words.
All he had was a puppy.
(I don't remember what triggered this. I could have been in the park or I could have seen a dog. I think I saw a dog.)