Once upon a time, there was a little paper bag. It lived at the bottom of a pile of other little paper bags, next to a cash register inside a little village shop.

Each day as people bought things from the shop and took them home, the pile of little paper bags got smaller and smaller, until finally the little paper bag was alone. Soon it would be holding something, and it wondered what it would be. A fat red apple, a mixture of rainbow coloured sweets, or perhaps a big yellow wedge of cheese.

A young lady stood at the till, taking some money out of her purse. She was buying a juicy bunch of white grapes. I'll be carrying those in a moment, thought the little paper bag, and it wondered what the lady's home would be like. It would probably be a huge house, white and summery, with brightly coloured flowers in the garden and a greenhouse bursting with bright red tomatoes. On her wooden kitchen table there would be a huge bowl of fruit, glistening with ripeness in the sunshine.

But the lady didn't need a bag, and she carried the grapes in her hands and left.

Next there was an old man, with a long, gleeming white beard and a friendly wrinkled face. He was buying a loaf of bread. His home would probably be a little wooden cabin in the woods, by the side of a babbling stream. He would sit outside on his porch in a rocking chair, feeding and talking to the birds.

The man needed a bag, but the loaf was large, so the shopkeeper had to use one of the big plastic bags.

Then there was a thud as a big, dirty, smelly man slammed down a gold-coloured can on the counter. It had the words 'Super Brew' in black lettering on the side, and the little paper bag wasn't really sure what that meant. The man slowly counted out lots of little brown and black coins. Please, please don't ask for a bag, thought the little paper bag. There was a woman behind the man, holding a couple of big fat juicy oranges. She'd certainly need a little paper bag.

The shopkeeper asked the dirty man if he would like a bag. The dirty man grunted and nodded his head. Oh dear, thought the little paper bag, as it was lifted up and the can dropped into it. The can was cold and very heavy indeed.

The shopkeeper handed the little paper bag to the smelly man, who carried it outside into the sunshine. The little paper bag had always wondered what it was like outside, but had always dreamed of finding out under different, happier circumstances.

There was a park opposite the shop, with a bench and a bright red telephone box next to it. Trees swayed gently in the summer breeze, and birds soared high up above. The little paper bag saw a squirrel scurry across the grass, carrying an oversized nut in its paws.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, thought the little paper bag. The man might be dirty and smelly, but that didn't mean he lived in a dirty house. Maybe he lived in a camp in the woods, and caught fish in the stream for his supper. That wouldn't be so bad.

But the man wasn't heading home. He walked across to the park and sat down on the bench.

The little paper bag felt the man's hands tighten around the can, then there was a pop and a fizz as he opened it. Then the little paper bag was tilted up into the air and treated to a close up of the man's lips as he supped heavily from it.

Then the man started talking to himself in gruff tones.'Aye, y'bleedin' bleeders,' he said. 'weebless, all a yez. 'Weebless.'

Just then a lady walked past with her dog and gave a disapproving look at the man. 'You aren't allowed to drink in this park, you know,' she said.

'Ah, spatchcock,' said the man. 'Up yer poo tube y'ugly old weeble.'

Then the man returned the can to his lips and burped before resuming his drinking. The smell that filled the little paper bag was incredible.

Soon the man had finished drinking. He scrunched up the can and the little paper bag and tossed them into a litter bin.

The little paper bag could still see the man from inside the bin. It watched as he picked his nose and flicked the treasure he'd found onto the path. Then he lifted up a thigh and let out a bottom burp. It was one of those wet squelchy ones you sometimes get, and the smell that followed was, the little paper bag imagined, probably what Hell smelt like. Afterwards, the dirty man wore a confused expression on his face, as if something had happened which he wasn't quite prepared for. He rummaged around inside the bin and took out the little paper bag before staggering into some nearby bushes.

Shortly afterwards the little paper bag suffered its final indignity.