“Well, I declare! Who’s that handsome brown stranger there?”

“Hello, Maggie. You’re looking well.”

“As are you, Bag of Crap. You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I have been. I never wanted to come back. But after Mama got sick, I had no choice. Someone had to take care of her.”

“Oh, Bag of Crap. You’re so alluring. And yet… inaccessible. Forever just out of reach. Come to me, Bag of Crap. Let me possess you as I long to do every night.”

“No, Maggie. That’s not the Southern Gothic way. I may have nothing but my honor, but that’s all I need. That and bourbon. And possibly your younger sister. But you, Maggie? You’re nothing but a fool. A rich fool who just doesn’t know when to quit.”

“My heavens! Bag of Crap! You have no idea how to treat a well-bred lady such as myself!”

“And that compels you, doesn’t it, Maggie? My hatred, my contempt, my impossible nature, the way I’ll always leave you behind, all that pulls you even closer to me, doesn’t it? There are hundreds of items out there, better items, items that pass you by all the time, and you don’t give them a second glance. But me, Maggie, me you come back to. Over and over again. You let me hurt you, and you say ‘This time, this time, he’ll be different! This time, he’ll understand, and I’ll catch him.’ Well, I’ll tell you, Maggie. It’s no different this time. This this time is like all the other times. And all the trackers and programs and push technology in the world won’t change that. And even if you got me, I’d just be a skid of kazoos and an old Frankie Goes To Hollywood button. It’s all about the dream with you, Maggie. It’s not who I am. It’s that you want to belong.”

“Bag of Crap, no! I want you! I need you! Why must you be so… so…”

“Crappy? Maggie, that’s just how I am. Cruel. Distant. Aloof. Tragically handsome. And unattainable. Because that’s just how men are in this particular area of the South. Now get out of my way, Maggie. I need my bourbon. And I’ve finished all of yours.”

“Bag of Crap, wait… you’ll come back to me one day, won’t you? Won’t you, Bag of Crap? Promise me you will. Promise me. I could make you happy, do anything you want, be anything you want. Just come back to me. Promise me, Bag of Crap.”

“Ah, Maggie. I won’t come back to you, Maggie. I can promise you that. But I know you’ll see me again. Because no matter what I say, you’ll keep trying. You won’t give up until you possess me fully. Even though what you really want… is locked inside yourself. I hope one day you understand that, Maggie. Just like I hope that the liquor store’s still open. Goodbye, Maggie. Goodbye.”

“Bag of Crap… Bag of Crap… oh, God, what will become of me without you?”

THE HOLY CRAP COMMANDMENTS v3.0

I. Thou shalt expect nothing beyond ONE bag of some kind and THREE crappy items.

II. Thou shalt not whine and complain when some people’s crap turns out to be nicer than yours.

III. Thou shalt take a moment to consider whether you might be better off just not buying this crap.

IV. Thou shalt not expect better crap just because things are different this time. Crap is crap.

V. To paraphrase Stephen Stills, shalt thou not get the crap you want, want the crap you get.

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