"I don't have any bread," I pleaded. "Not since a zoologist at Penn concluded that hummingbirds that ate two loaves of bread a day got constipation."
"Not that bread, turkey! Bread! Lettuce!"
"I haven't eaten lettuce in three years since the government banned it for having too many pesticides, and the heads that remained were eaten by pests."
The man closed his trench coat and began to leave.
"Wait!" I pleaded, digging into my pockets. "I've got change."
He laughed, contemptuously. "That's not even coffee money."
"I don't drink coffee," I mumbled. "Not since the government arrested Juan Valdez and his donkey for being unhealthy influences on impressionable minds."
I grabbed for his supply of hotdogs, each disguised in a plain brown wrapper, each more valuable than a banned rap record. He again pulled them away.
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