Donkeymen

They were two, a girl and a boy.
One of them caught my eyes just outside the grocery. They didn't wear school uniform or scout uniform. They were in their ordinary saturday afternoon clothes, shorts, t-shirt, flip-flops, but much less tanned than everybody else.
I made no attempt to escape as I often do when I'm addressed by adults with a pile of leaflets in the hand. They usually want to make me a better person, a discipline I prefer to practice under different circumstances.
I stopped.
The girl explained their purpose, a matter of lottery tickets for the benefit of mental ill on the island.
I could barely hear her voice. Donkeyman, so we call him now, had one of his noisy moments. She had to repeat herself.
- Of course, I said and looked for the purse in my bag.
- Will you be on the island at April the 9th, the boy asked.
- The 9th? I think so. Why do you want to know that?
He showed me what I could win. It was like a brunch for four at Admiral's Inn and something called a Mystery Grab Bag.
- You won't be able to benefit from the lottery if you are not in Antigua the 9th.
I gave him the 10 EC$.
- Oh, it's kind of you to mention.
They said Thank You and went on.
We looked after them.
They stopped by the donkey. It was hitched at the other side of the road. I like it better when we meet it up the hill or by the dry canal. Some places the grass is almost green, though you have to look for it.
- What was that about, my son asked.
- Aid for mental ills, I replied.
He looked at the donkey. Sometimes he steals carrots from the fridge to have something to give it.
- If only we could win the donkey, he said. - But it's a good idea to have children sell the lottery tickets. If two mental ill came over and asked, none of the tickets would be sold.