A knock on a door. A female in her mid-twenties answers.
“Hello, ma'am. I have to walk around the neighborhood and get signatures for this sheet.”
“Why?”
He sighs. “I'm a convicted baby drowner, and I'm moving into the neighborhood.”
” ‘Baby drowner?' So didja drown lots a' babies?”
Sigh. “Yes. Yes, I drowned a ton of babies.”
“Oh. Well I'm not really sure if I want a baby drowner living in my neighborhood.”
“I know, ma'am. Listen, I'm a retired baby drowner. I don't do that stuff anymore. When I was drowning babies, it was the cool thing to do. Everyone was doing it. You couldn't walk through the streets without kicking up at least four dead babies. We were young and stupid, but we had fun.” There is both regret and a twinkle of yearning for the good ol' days in his eyes. Maybe he wouldn't have regretted drowning those babies if he wouldn't have gotten caught.
“What kind of babies did you drown?”
“I drowned 'em all, ma'am. White ones, black ones, babies of all colors. I was not a discriminatory baby drowner. Young ones, old ones, short ones, tall ones, sober ones, drunk ones, gay ones, you name 'em, I drowned 'em.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, but you're a smart woman. You know that babies are a renewable resource.”
“So what are ya gonna do if I don't sign the sheet? Ya gonna drown my baby?” She is more flirting with him than anything.
He laughs. “Maybe.”
They have sex, the end.