When he got there, he asked a cashier, “What aisle are the…”

“…raisins in?” she asked.

“How… how did you know?”

“I am a psychic. I can read minds.”

“Really? Well then, what am I…”

“Thinking now? You’re thinking about what I might look like naked.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And now you’re emboldened by the fact that I’m not acting disgusted, so now you think you have a chance to sleep with me.”

“Also true.”

“And now you have realized the futility of trying to front or flirt, since I know exactly what you’re thinking, no matter how you act or what you say.”

“I am helpless… truly, before you.”

“Then why do you smirk so confidently?”

“Because you don’t actually know where the fucking raisins are, do you…”