Brass Domain

Every thing is good in Mercybay or so we’d thought. One period nearer to concluding the neighborhood seaside redevelopment and every eager sailor would possess what they have yearned about and only visualized in the movies. One thing was for absolute the locals where at there patience finished with all the professional large trucks, all the daybreak morning frustrations, loud beeping noises from the trucks backing up, and not to mention the mud trails going from the development site to the interstate and beyond. Who could endure another year of this blunder.

It all started with Mrs. Wills and that outdated overrated store of hers that overflowed with enough luggage to pack the Chinese in. Don’t get me incorrect the handbags where very nice, it was Mrs. Wills that everyone had had enough of. She continually insisted on this over budgeted spendature in the bay area and since she was from a more “civilized” breed, as she often made common knowledge with everyone she mingled with and those relations afforded her much leverage in just the right places to get a thing like this authorized in an otherwise staunch and even shrewd town committee board.

Clearly she had known some English man who had the competition for Vera Bradley 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 money to leverage our treasured little town and create what was sure to be a titanic among developers, a legend to be shared for ages of how unfortunate Mercybay was run aground and left for a ghost town. Well all would not be wasted, at least if I had anything to do about it. Who did I consider I was? That is a surprise for sure and especially to my wife Mrs. Wills. I mean for goodness sake our garage, our storage, our every vacant space was shoved full of these handbags.

Comments are closed.