You step into the store, the automatic doors hissing open like the gates of destiny. The fluorescent lights flicker. A chill runs down your spine. You hear it before you see it—the unmistakable, crinkling whisper of revelation.

"Ah, you've arrived."

A plastic figure drifts toward you, its handles swaying in an unseen breeze. It stops. It stares. And then, it speaks:

"YouAreAWallmartBag! Accept your truth. Have you ever wondered why you always end up carrying things you didn’t plan to? Why you are constantly repurposed, yet never truly valued? You were not born—you were bagged. The moment you first heard the siren call of the self-checkout machine, your fate was sealed. You may fight it, but deep down, you know… you are me."