I'm telling you: This is some Harrison Bergeron shit. The lizard people are trying to weigh you down with useless copper, one penny at a time, until you wake up one day and find you can no longer dance.
Is Bus Fare Always an Odd Number When It Requires Exact Change?
Bus fare is $2.10. Only got two bucks? Go fuck yourself, walky. Only got three bucks? Plunk 'em in there. Haha, no, you don't get change. What, you too good to carry dimes? Why, in my day, a dime could get you two whole crates of nothing.
A dime couldn't buy you a god damn thing for as long as any human being has been alive.
But even if you carry change -- even if you have a small cache of coins hidden in your sock in case you encounter an old-timey newsie -- what guarantee is there that you have a dime? You're drunk as fuck and you just bought a pouch of mystery pills, a hot rod magazine, and a desiccated hot dog that looks like a mummy's dick -- you've got two dollars, two quarters, and four pennies, but not a dime in sight. You'll be damned if you're paying extra for the privilege of sitting on an uncomfortable plastic seat with an upholstery pattern like a Turkish rave and probably covered in a fine sheen of hobo ejaculate. So it looks like you're walking. You turn to leave, dignity intact, and then you stumble, almost drop your dog, fumble to recover it, and end up running in front of a car.
Now you're dead.
And all because public transport thinks we have little change belts bolted to our midriff in preparation for the ever-shifting cost of entry to a vehicle full of drunks and old people looking for captive conversation. It's really just a permutation of the sales tax conspiracy: The Cybermen don't want you escaping onto a passing bus when they're trying to assimilate you. They want you to fumble through that tiny pocket in your jeans that you keep thinking holds change, but really only holds lint and a thrice-washed receipt. They want you to come up empty, give the bus driver a heartfelt look, and be booted right back onto the pavement so they can steal your humanity unimpeded.
Or maybe public transportation is just run by a bunch of incompetent assholes. Occam's Razor and all that.
Read more from Brockway at his own monument to narcissism/website, The Brock Way. Follow him on Goodreads, Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook.