David or, more accurately, The Fool, crawled down an empty downtown street to somewhere even more downtown. He was a spy. His friends didn’t know this. Neither did his colleagues. Right under their noses he inhabited a double life. All these years he had waited at his desk for a signal. David waited for a signal and with that signal the name of a betrayer.
David rationalizes his persistent solitude.
David, usually with dick in hand (because it was a particularly enjoyable fantasy), had played it out: the moment when he would come face-to-face with his opponent, someone he knew and someone he didn’t like. The encounter would prove David’s exceptional martial arts training. The art of subduing with a mere pen. The women in his office would see this miraculous transformation and desire David. The men would envy him.