A rather vicious fight had erupted over on the far bank of the river. It was between two swans. It had seemingly begun as a fight about bread, but continued beyond that as the bread had long been trampled and the old lady supplying it had fled the scene. Other visitors to the park watched it with bemusement, though they dared not get too close. The ducks who also called that section of river home were keeping their distance as well. It was a flurry of white feathers and honking. Rhiannon had edged closer than anyone else dared. She stood on a nearby bridge, watching the swans thrust and parry like a pair of winged fencers. She wasn’t sure how to feel. The sight of them was somewhat amusing, in a slapstick sense, yet it was also rather saddening. Nature being brutal was the way things went. The peace and harmony part of her didn’t really like that. But she dismissed it as unrealistic. It’s hard to be idealistic when you know the rules are so hard and fast. A little voice inside her suggested mischief. With barely a thought, there was bread in her hand. She’d almost thrown it before she realised what she was doing and stopped herself. It was gone with a look.
The pizza was wrong. The instructions hadn’t been difficult. All they needed to do was leave off the onions and add some spicy beef. But they’d still got it wrong. We both wondered silently to ourselves if we’d got someone else’s order, but everything else was right. There was the two litre bottle of coke and the wedges with the selection of dips. They’d given us our free garlic bread (though the delivery guy had declined the voucher when I tried to hand it to him). We stared at our pizza that was devoid of beef and covered in onions. It wasn’t even the standard version of the pizza we’d ordered. It seemed to actually have extra onions. And the cheese seemed like that low-fat stuff they offer (who the hell orders a pizza with low-fat cheese?). We considered sending it back, but felt too shy to complain. We stared at a pizza we didn’t want to eat. I tentatively tried a bite. It was not a taste sensation. I didn’t care about onions, but the amount they’d piled onto this thing was obscene. The cheese was plasticky but palatable. Rebecca refused to touch it and instead horded all the wedges and garlic bread for herself.
I’m feeding the ducks. I’m sat on a bench in a park and I’m feeding the ducks. Well, I’m not sat on the bench right now as it’s a bit too far from the water, but I’ll be sat on it in a moment. I’ll sit there after I’ve finished feeding the ducks. It won’t be long as I’ve only got a couple of slices left. It’s not a sunny day. The sky’s filled with clouds. It hasn’t rained yet, but it’s been threatening to all day. “Nice weather for ducks” as people sometimes say. Though I wonder if it is? I mean, I’m sure they’re not bothered by a little water, even if it is falling from the sky, but the rain drives people inside. If there’s no one around, then there’s no one to provide them with bread. It won’t affect what I’m doing though. I’m here already, so I may as well finish this loaf off before I leave. And that won’t matter much to them, will it? I’ll have given them all my bread, whether it rains or not. It begins to rain and I keep my promise to myself and finish giving them the rest of the loaf. I wonder if the ducks know I’m leaving because I ran out of bread, or if they’re blaming the rain.
-Alice
I heard a funny story the other day. I can’t really remember the details, but it was pretty damn hilarious. I think there was something in it about a duck. I’m not really sure what kind of duck, but it was definitely some form of waterfowl. It had a bill and webbed feet and made the appropriate noises. It walked in that funny way that ducks do. Oh my, I almost misspelled that! Anyway, there was a duck and it did something. It did something really funny that I just can’t quite remember right now. I think it might have had something to do with bread. Ducks like bread, so that’s a definite possibility. So the duck had the bread, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t have the bread at first and he was trying to get it. He was trying to get bread off someone so he could have it himself. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to eat the bread, rather than to make a sandwich or anything. I mean, I’ve never known a duck to demand sandwich spread or mayo or whatever. I think it’s ‘cos they can’t really chew or whatever. Not sure what they do with bread either then…
-Alice
