The following is an actual conversation I witnessed while riding the bus to the shopping mall last weekend. It’s not related to Christmas in any way, and is quite possibly the LEAST Christmassy thing ever printed, but Jim Nabors isn’t returning any of my text messages or letters threatening his family, so this will have to do.

Frankly, I don’t know why Jim Nabors won’t write a guest column for me. Perhaps it’s the 20,000-word minimum I required, or the fact that the gig is unpaid and rather beneath him. Or maybe he was scared off because I told him I’d be inserting various curse words and sexual braggadocio into his writing to “put my stamp on it.” Regardless of the reason, I think it’s safe to say that Jim Nabors is a dick.

Anyway, what follows is an exact transcript of an alcoholic teenager courting and then nearly vomiting all over a young redhead on a smelly bus. Witnessing this was the high point of my weekend, so I wanted to share. Enjoy.

A teenage boy, tall and drunk as a vicar, lumbers onto the 181 bus to Glendale. His boxer shorts hang out of his pants, not in a trendy ghetto way, but in a way where you suspect he legitimately had trouble dressing himself that morning. It’s a small miracle of nature that he managed to make it all this way without accidentally showing his anus to anyone. But then again, it’s only 10 a.m. The day is young.

Upon entering the bus, our young drunk hero immediately takes interest in a redheaded woman sitting in the back. She’s maybe 25—certainly older than him, and not much interested in dating a 17-year-old with a drinking problem. But alas, our hero makes an attempt!

Idiot: You’re pretty.

A long pause as the woman’s eyes gloss over. She stares at the emergency exit on the ceiling—the one designed only to be used if the bus flips over—and wonders if she can reach it.

Redhead: Um . . . thanks.
Idiot: I’m drunk.
Redhead: At 10 a.m.?
Idiot:Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I might throw up soon.
Redhead: I wish you wouldn’t.
Idiot: Nah, it’s not that bad. I was just showing off.
Redhead: I mean, if you have to throw up, go ahead, but I wish you wouldn’t. It’s gross.
Idiot: Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I’ve been drinking since 6 a.m.
Redhead: Why?
Idiot: I got a head injury. That’s why I’m drinking.
Redhead: That’s probably not . . .
Idiot: I play minor league baseball. I’m a baseball player. My head hurts because I got hit with a ball, so that’s why I started drinking so early.
Redhead: I don’t understand. You got hit in the head with a baseball at 6 a.m.?

Our hero freezes and puts one hand in the air, bracing himself against both the morning sun and the woman’s logic. That damned sun! It’s ruining everything. If the moon were out instead, this anecdote would be a winner. A minor league baseball player! That’s good stuff! That’ll get you all sorts of titties. Those perky, pointy ones that French ladies always have in movies. Fat ones that swing side-to-side like giant, dangerous pendulums. Long ones that hang low like Nickelodeon Gak.

Redhead: Are you gonna throw up?
Idiot: What?
Redhead: I swear to God, if you throw up on me, I’m gonna be pissed.
Idiot: Damn, bitch.
Redhead: Excuse me?

There is a long pause as our hero tries not to vomit. He quickly recovers and continues his courtship.

Idiot: I love you.
Redhead: . . .
Idiot: Sorry, too soon.
Redhead: You need to stay over there.
Idiot: Why?
Redhead: Because that’s the side of the bus for people who are going to throw up.
Idiot: What would you know about me throwing up? You don’t know.

The woman takes out a book and begins reading.

Idiot: I like to read. We should hook up.
Redhead: . . .
Idiot: I don’t really like reading, though.
Redhead: . . .
Idiot: Gimme your book. I wanna read it to you.

The woman rushes off the bus. Our young hero looks around and suddenly notices everyone else on the bus, as if he hadn’t noticed these 30 additional people before. He shuffles around nervously for a moment, trying to think of something clever to say. After a long pause, he makes a loud proclamation to the entire bus.

Idiot: I gotta go to the bathroom.

With that, he exits.

Columnist Paul Ryan, silent all this time, rises from his seat and gives our hero a standing ovation. Later, 57 percent of the bus riders agree that the standing ovation was well deserved.

Jim Nabors, eat your heart out.