At the final stop in the industrial district, the insane type of man tries to find a worthy interlocutor.

The choice falls on the intelligent in the glasses and with the portfolio in the hands.

Do you have 30 rubles?

The intelligent answered:

I don’t have them, but you’ll spend them on drinking.

The man objects:

Except for the cake.

“Well, go to the kiosk, show me what cake, I’ll buy it for you.

Move to a food kiosk with a brand name, and the confused look of a man becomes the owner of a cake with potatoes.

I said it wasn’t for vodka.

From the pocket comes a sealed glass.

I already have vodka.