Back when I lived in Chattanooga, I would walk into the bar with a rumpled bag and sit and drink. People ALWAYS asked me what was in my bag. I would always refuse to tell anyone. More often than not, the inquisitive drunk would get angry. I always found that to be interesting.

I would offer to let people reach into the bag, but they couldn't look inside the bag. Not a single person would reach in the bag.

What did I carry in the bag?
A secret.
That's what.