By Nick Hoobin
I was told that you could be transported to a different place and time if you held up a plastic bag to your ear. Not a seashell; a plastic bag. Each size and type would connect you to a different moment. I held a big-box-store bag to my ear and heard top forty music. A small sandwich bag produced the endless drone of cars on the Interstate. I was pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of a light rain and birds chirping from a gallon freezer bag. After a day at the county fair I opened up a kettle corn bag, placed it to my ear, and jumped. The sound I heard was a person screaming in fear and pain. I scrambled to throw away the bag and lock the doors and windows. The person I heard screaming was me.