Tina's bag produced exactly what we needed on demand. Of course, whatever came out of that bag was unpredictable and not something we could immediately guess would apply to our situation.

 

Once, in the middle of a fistfight on the streets, Tina reached into the satchel and found not one but two items: a ripe avocado and a packet of tissues. Since one of the boys in the fight was bleeding and both were sweating in the noonday sun, it was apparent what we were to do with the tissues, but the avocado? Tina and I looked at each other and down at the fruit in my hand. It was dark brown-olive and gave ever so slightly when I squeezed it.

 

I shrugged and pulled out my Swiss army knife. Tina got a metal spoon (you can ask her why she carried around a metal spoon). She waited until I cut the avocado in two halves, took the side with the massive round seed and removed it.

 

"Are we supposed to eat this?" she asked.

 

I looked up. The boys were still at it: now pummelling one another, now in a tense death grip, always breathing rapidly and on edge, the expressions on their faces pale with fury, raw, intense, aflame with hurt and indignation and the determine to win this one, if only this one. By the time Tina and I had halved the avocado, they boy shad turn their short-sleeved white shirts, sweat them through, thoroughly dishevelled their hair, cut one another, thrown one shoe away between them and kept up the fight. Two policemen arrived and separated them, but who could stop them from glaring at one another, mirroring pure hatred and ill-will?

 

Tina raised half of the avocado to me. "This is running overtime."

 

I shrugged. "Might as well."

 

After Tina finished with the spoon, she wiped it and gave it to me. By then the cops had pulled each of the lads aside and talked to them. They may have been separated, but they were still glaring at each other, hell-bent on ending the other person the second they were released.

 

"No change." I'd eaten my half of the avocado and stuck the spoon at Tina, who frowned.

 

I wiped the back and side off on my sleeve, leaving green smudges on it. Tina scowled and shook her head.

 

"What do you expect?"

 

She sighed and shoved a tissue at me.

 

"Fine." I snatched the tissue, balled it up and dug it into the concave scoop of the spoon, twisting furiously. I turned the spoon over and rubbed the tissue around it.

 

Tina smiled. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

 

I wound up to throw the ball of tissue at her, but lost my grip and the white ball sailed over the heads of the crowd and hit one of the policemen holding the boys.

 

"Oh crap," I whispered.

 

"Who threw that?" he barked, letting go of the boy, who took his chance and lunged at his sworn nemesis, pummelling him furiously, completely ignoring the second policeman, whose grip slipped as his sweaty charge wriggled free and began punching his friend back.

 

Tina turned to me. "Well done. Now what?"

 

The crowd followed up the first policeman and cheered on the boys as they fought, yelling redundantly, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" as if they weren't fighting and needed the encouragement. I doubt they heard them, so engrossed in the punching and grappling and standing down were they. I don't think it would have made a difference if the street were empty; if it were day or night; or if it were raining - each of them simply wanted to win. It was so simple that it was either wonderful or stupid.

 

Tina cleared her throat. "Give me the tissues. Quick."

 

I passed the small colourful plastic package to her and she began to weave through the crowd towards the fight.

 

"Please don't wipe them down. Please don't wipe them down," I repeated again and again in a rushed whisper.

 

She reached the boys and stopped. "Hey! These tissues are for the winner. Is that clear? The winner gets these tissues!"

 

The boys both whipped around.

 

"Are you insane?"

 

"As if we'd fight for something so stupid!"

 

They both faced one another, glanced at Tina's tissues and looked at each other again. The policeman had begun to withdraw his gun from his holster and eyed the lads suspiciously. The crowd was holding its breath waiting for the next move.

 

One of the boys leaned in and asked in a small hushed voice, "What's the difference?"

 

The other one said, "Yeah, I know." He extended a hand. "Sorry about... you know."

 

The first lad took it and smiled. "I'm sorry, too, man." He turned to Tina. "Thanks. We'll take some of those tissues now."

 

The other guy pulled out a bottle of water and drank.

 

The crowd heaved a collective sigh, took a final glance and dispersed. And that was that.

 

 

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