"I hate your bag."

Picture this.

Crowded mid-town Manhattan sidewalk. Afternoon. It's hot.

Walking southbound is a disheveled-looking man wheeling a small, leather suitcase behind him.

Walking northbound is a dude carrying a chair on his shoulder.

Like colorful balloons in a French film, they pass.

Suddenly, unexpectedly - and without breaking stride! - the dude with the chair just kicks the man's suitcase.

BIP!

I hate your bag.

The man with the suitcase looks back, confused, thinking he ran over a bump.

The man with the chair continues walking, angrily grumbling, "Bag."

That dude must really hate luggage.


*BIP!*

"I hate your stupid bag. Bags! Aaaaaargh! Fuck that bag!" *THWACK!*

So many questions.

Was his family killed by roving bands of carry-on? Maybe he was the sole survivor of the terrible Samsonite Scourge of '99. Perhaps he just barely escaped with his life and his chair after his family, his friends, nay! - his entire village was wiped out by a rabid pack of the finest leathery travel accoutrements.

Now, carrying only his chair - the last remnant of his former life - he roams the streets of New York, like a modern day Kung Fu, seeking justice and peace.

And occasionally kicking the shit out of some guy's luggage.