It was a beautiful morning to visit The Bank. The MacPurdys were still basking in the afterglow of a wonderful trip to Barbados. Was it the, still fresh, smell of the sea air? The morsels of fine Caribbean sand that still clung to them from a week in paradise. Or maybe a lingering intoxication from the rum punch they had so lovingly enjoyed on their island utopia. Whatever it was it was about to make The Bank very happy for the next EIGHT years.
"Yes, Mr. and Ms. MacPurdy we have just the thing for you..." said a generic bank employee " We call it a credit line."
"A credit line you say?" replied the MacPurdys "Well that doesn't sound half bad. Not like a credit card. A credit line mmmmm? Lines are good. Take for granted telephone lines. They are very convenient. Or tow lines for instance. They are handy as well. Oh! and lifelines. I mean who can say anything bad about lifelines? We will take your credit line, good sir!"
Unbeknownst to the MacPurdys a faceless executive, high up in a royal bank tower laughed greedily and wholeheartedly at the young naive couple. While he rolled around in a giant pile of loonies and toonies.
Over the years and little by little the MacPurdy's tried, in vain, to quell the credit beast. It was like the Hydra. An ancient beast from tales of long ago. Lop off one head and two more grow back in it's place. Long did they battle this animal credit line until finally they gained the upper hand. After long travels through the mountains of La Belle Province and across vast oceans they came upon the land of Oz. On the planes of Brisbane they dealt the credit line it's final blow and with it went the dreaded credit card. An evil mirror of the credit line, yet far more dark and sinister.
Now the MacPurdys could sing a song of joy to celebrate their freedom from these two formidable foes. Yet they keep a sharp eye. For they know that, both, the credit line and credit card were just servents of a much greater threat. The Bank. Even now there are whispers of a new financial foe growing in the distance. Automobile. Just the mention of it's name brings chills to the MacPurdys. For no one can stay clear of The Bank for long.
A short story by
Robert MacPurdy