The Guaranteed Mercy of Handbags

Every thing is well in Mercybay or so we’d considered. One day nearer to finishing the local bay side renovation and all zealous watercraft enthusiast would have what they have imagined about and only visualized in the movies. One thing was for absolute the locals where at there wits end with all the heavy equipment, all the daybreak morning frustrations, high decibel beeping noises from the trucks reversing up, and not to mention the mud trails going from the building site to the interstate and beyond. Who could withstand another year of this chaos.

It all began with Mrs. Wills and that outdated overrated store of hers that overflowed with enough Vera Bradley travel luggage to pack the Chinese in. Don’t get me inaccurate the handbags where mostly nice, it was Mrs. Wills that everyone had had enough of. She continually insisted on this over budgeted investment in the bay locality and since she was from a more upscale breed, as she often made known with everyone she knew and those relations allowed her much a sway in just the perfect places to get a thing like this past in an otherwise fixed and even shrewd town committee board.

Obviously she had been aquainted with some English bloke who had the field for Vera handbags cornered from Venice to Ventura and he adored her something intensely, or so it was said. Never the less this bloke was a full with enough capital to leverage our treasured little town and create what was sure to be a disaster among developers, a legend to be told for ages of how poor Mercybay was run aground and left for the ghosts. Well all would not be forgotten, at least if I had anything to do about it. Who did I think I was? That is a surprise for sure and especially to my wife Mrs. Wills. I mean for goodness sake our garage, our put aways, our every empty space was shoved full of these handbags.