Paul is riding the bus to work when a hobo sits next to him.

Hobo: Hey man, got any Kit Kats?

Paul: What?

Hobo: You got any Kit Kat bars?

Paul: You’re panhandling for Kit Kat candy bars?

Hobo: Yes.

Paul: Doesn’t that seem . . . a little specific? Maybe you should just ask people for change, and then you can use the change to buy Kit Kat bars.

Hobo: Seems like you want me to add a middleman. I don’t care for that. These days, our country produces useless middle management workers almost exclusively.

Paul: Do you even know what country you’re in right now?

Hobo: Spain?

Paul: No, not even close.

Hobo: Africa?

Paul: That’s a continent. A continent with lions. Have you seen any lions lately?

Hobo: Am I in a country on the continent of Africa?

Paul: Again, do you see lions? No. You’re in America. A good general rule is if you see fat people instead of lions, you’re in America.

Hobo: Shit. I’m worse off than I thought. Do you have any Kit Kats?

Paul: No! I have some change. Take it. Use it to buy Kit Kats.

Hobo: No, I’m afraid my political and socioeconomic morals don’t allow for that.

Paul: You’re a hobo! You have poop all over your pants!

Hobo: Yes, but it’s MY poop. I didn’t pay someone else to do it for me.

Paul: Having me buy Kit Kats and then give them to you is actually more complicated than . . . Jesus Christ, I have a migraine. Look, it’s 7 a.m. I can’t deal with this first thing in the morning. I don’t have any Kit Kats. Sorry. Leave me alone.

Hobo: Adios, mi amigo!

Paul: You’re not in Spain!

The hobo moves to a seat across the aisle. A few moments later, a transsexual sits next to Paul.

Tranny: Hey man, got any Mounds?

Paul: Is that a pickup line? Gross.

Tranny: No, man. Mounds bars.

Paul: Like the candy bar?

Tranny: Yeah man, got any Mounds bars?

Paul: No! Dear God, no. Has anyone ever said yes to this question?

Tranny: No.

Paul: Have you ever, over the course of your entire life, seen someone physically purchase or eat a Mounds bar?

Tranny: No.

Paul: Then you already know the answer to your question.

A moment of silence.

Tranny: So do you have any Mounds bars?

Paul: Holy shit, NO. No a thousand times. I am not a vending machine.

Tranny: I’m not leaving here until you give me a Mounds bar.
Paul: Well, good luck with that. I guess we’ll be hanging out together until we’re both dead.

A moment of silence.

Tranny: So do you have any Mounds—

Paul: Things have not changed from twelve seconds ago! And by the way, it’s rude to just ask for things whilst providing no conversation whatsoever. Maybe that tip will help you in your future searches for terrible candy bars.

A moment of silence.

Tranny: So . . . what do you do for a living?

Paul: (sighs) I work as an assistant.

Tranny: That’s unfortunate. I’m sure things will pick up for you soon.

Paul: You’re a tranny who panhandles Mounds bars!

Tranny: Yeah, but I’m not a male secretary. (to the hobo sitting across the aisle) Hey man, got any Mounds bars?

Hobo: Why yes, I do! Here you go!

The hobo takes a Mounds bar out of this pocket and hands it to the tranny.

Tranny: Great, thanks!

Hobo: My pleasure!

Paul: Where am I? Is this a dream? Did I eat some kind of bizarre Indian food last night? What’s going on?

The tranny takes the Mounds bar and places it in a bag that has roughly 200 Mounds bars in it already.

Paul: What the hell is that? You don’t eat them?

Tranny: No, I just collect them.

Paul: What do you mean you collect them? Collect them for what?

Tranny: When you were a kid, did you collect baseball cards?

Paul: Yeah.
Tranny: Well, I collect Mounds bars.

A moment of silence. Paul is puzzled.

Paul: Do you have a favorite?

Tranny: A favorite what?

Paul: A favorite Mounds bar from your collection?

Tranny: What? No. They all look the same. What are you, crazy?

Paul: I can’t take this anymore. I’m not even halfway to work, but I’m leaving this bus. I can’t stay here.

Paul exits the bus at the next stop.

Tranny: What a weirdo.

Hobo: I know, right? These city buses are full of freaks.