She: Hi, I don’t know whether you’ll be able to help me. You don’t happen to have a pony called Rocky, do you?
Me: I don’t…
She: Ok, thanks anyway! Bye.
This has brightened my day. I am now intrigued as to who Rocky could belong to, and why he needs to be tracked down. Is he lost? Has he run away? Does he have a magic pony-sense that attracts him to anybody with my surname? Have I been involved in the periphery of an epic love story, where a beautiful princess (she had a nice voice, so it’s reasonable to assume she’s a princess) is striving to track down the one true love who once rescued her from a stream and gallantly carried her home on his pony, named Rocky, but left before she could get anything other than his surname? Or is Rocky a hyper-intelligent pony who is keeping his abilities secret lest the government take him away for testing, and was therefore powerless to prevent his being sold by the wicked stepfather of his beloved owner? Or, has he been kidnapped?! Poor Rocky!
I’m also a little concerned that in a few minutes I’ll remember that I do, in fact, own a pony called Rocky. This tends to happen when I deny things outright.