What are you looking at? The hobo asked.
You. The man sneered.
What do you want? A fight? The hobo asked.
Not that. Your mind.
They stared deeply into each other's eyes. The hobo has just cracked a zinger. The joke was about two women who were molested, eating their own minds out with food. The zinger was impressively artistic for a hobo.
The hobo looked funny on the surface, but he had a heart of gold. His name was Melvin. He loved to eat food when it was time to eat, and not when it was not time to eat. He had to eat a lot to make up for being so hungry in the mind for fuel.
How about a piece of cheese? The man asked the hobo.
The hobo licked his lips hungrily. "That's happy."
What do you mean, that's happy? He asked the hobo.
I think cheese is a happy food. Like watermelon. Or pizza. Or cheesecake.
The man looked down the hobo's nose. What a mess. He smelled like urine and feces combined with robitusson, for he looked like he had been snorting a few lines of coke too.
What a mess, the man said. How about a bath???
The hobo perked up. He had been looking for a place to take a bath for over a month.
Well? The man said.
A shower. The hobo pierces his mouth with useless words to thank the man, but the man didn't care. He liked the hobo.
The hobo showered and sat down for a game of backgammon. After they tied three times, the man realized the wits were matched. He decided to play a game.
How many women do you want to have sex with at the same time? The man asked the hobo.
The hobo screeched and then stopped looking happy. Zero. He said sheepishly.
Why? The man asked madly. You're not one of those types, are you?
No! The hobo yelled without making a sound. He didn't want to admit he was a homosexual.
Well? The man said. Do you like men?
No, I like women. I just hate women at the same time so I don't want to sleep with any!
What?! The man screamed.
I don't like women. I'm a heterosexual in a male's body confounded by funny things that make me hate women, thus rendering me homosexual.
I hate men who love men, said the man.
I love men who hate men who love men, said the hobo.
What?! The man screamed.
I love you. The hobo screamed back.
No! OUT! The man yelled.
I have something for you first, the hobo said.
What is it? The man asked with curiosity.
A pretty lady in my back yard.
What? You have no backyard!
I do not, but I have a pretty lady for you.
The man watched his face. It bled with withered ugliness. He stared at his long nose, his mouth with cold sores, and pretty eyes. He looked like a darn funny guy to be messing around with a pretty lady in his pocket.
I know, you want a woman. Said the hobo. But you can't find yourself a woman so you came to me. I will tell you how to get women. It involves looking at yourself from a different perspective. Do you like to get laid? He asked the man.
Yes. but ain't no talking to a gay man about it!
I know, I'm gay. Get over it already. My wife is at home and she needs sex from a stranger. She sent me to find one. Do you want her?
The man smiled. Yes. I don't care what she looks like. She must have big looking boobs though.
I know. She has great massive hooters.
What else?
She is cute on the face, no wrinkles, pretty on the eyes, and ugly on the inside. She is mean and cowardly.
That ain't no problem! The man said.
I will find you a piece of her ass but first you need to do something for me.
What's that?
Tell me I'm ugly and mean it!
Why?!
Because I don't like any jibber jabber about how you think my face looks rugged.
I know, I know! You are hideous! Man, you are ugly as hell!
That's a good story, but do you mean it?
Yes, I mean it! I think you look awful!
Then here you go. Here is my lady.
He took the man to his bunker in the middle of a industrial district. The women there were very hideous all around. They looked bad all over. The man got upset by the ugliness of the women and decided to have a cigarette. When they made it to the bunker, the woman was sitting in the middle of a bath tub all the way naked.
This is my daughter. Have your way with her.
This is your daughter? The man asked with shock.
Yes. In my wild days, I enjoyed the company of women. I found peace with this young daughter of mine back in the days when she found no hope with her mother. Her mother is a methhead like you.
I hate methheads! The woman screamed! Don't bring me a fucking methhead!
It's okay, sugar pie. I brought you an intellectual methhead. No ticks at all!
NO!! She screamed and made a fist. I hate methheads so much!
I know, I know. But this meth head will help you function like a lady.
Why do you think that is necessary? You are a man of great madness in the mind too! I like people who enjoy your company, if they are clean in the area of drugs!
Oh come off it, Sugar pie. You don't know how to function either without ritalin.
That's okay! I know what you are saying and it's wrong! I hate meth with a serious passion and it takes me two years of my life to understand why you still take me to the doctor to be prescribed ritalin!
You need it for your mother's sake! She made you a drug addict!
Why do you need me to take ritalin? It's awful! I hate the ticks! I hate the random mind problems it makes! I hate it! And I hate this man here! What is he doing? How much does he need that cigarette he is smoking?
That man is your new husband. That is all.
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