Joy Mangano Carry-On/XL/Tote/Weekender Bundle
- Psst. Hey. You like bags? Because, uh, we gotta lotta bags over here.
- We got a Joy Mangano carry-on roller.
- We got a Joy Mangano XL roller.
- We got a Joy Mangano tote.
- And we got a Joy Mangano weekender.
- See? We weren’t kidding when we said we had a lot of bags.
- Psst. Need some shirts to fill those bags with? Head over to Mediocritee.
- Model: 4-B4663R.
For Your Travels
I flew from New York into Oaxaca de Juárez on a Tuesday night and the next morning took a bus eight hours to the little village. There, after much bartering, I was able to obtain a vial of the forbidden mole. Said to be cooked by a collective of dark priests, legend had it that this simple sauce could, once consumed, provide one with the answer to any single question, assuming the eater was willing to give up a fraction of his or her soul.
I had no use for a soul without Pechard, so I was more than willing to risk it. It worked: I found out that Jack Trembly, the man who initially set us up with the Shadow Collective, and thus who was indirectly responsible for all of this, was living in Vancouver under the name Dirk Ashley.
And if you’re wondering, I dared not seek the Collective directly. This sort of boldness is rewarded with nothing but pain. Such is my knowledge, after what happened to Pechard.
So it was off to Vancouver, where I found I was too late. Jack Trembly had made a run for it, leaving behind an empty flat. What’s more: I was not the first to inspect this place. Every surface was spotted with the sooty fingerprints of a Collective member’s forever aflame fingers.
Thinking I was back to square one, I moved to leave when, under foot, a board let out a loud creak. It’s nothing, I told myself. And yet, I leaned down anyway to pry it from the floor, where I unearthed a small room, not much bigger than a crawlspace. In it was a thin, ratty mattress, upon which lay a woman.
“My name is Cecilia,” she said, sitting up. “My brother Jack has led them to London, but the answers you seek are in Manilla. We must go at once!”
It could’ve been a trap. She wore gloves, so I could not see the tips of her fingers to inspect them for the telltale glow of a Collective member. Still, what choice did I have? I needed to avenge Pechard.
I waited while she gathered her things. Despite her dingy hideout, she had very nice luggage. A Joy Mangano tote, weekender bag, XL roller bag, and carry-on. They were each well designed and stylish in their own way. She filled them all, and then said, “I’ll hail a cab to the airport.”
“Wait,” I said, stepping to block her path to the door. “If you’re going to travel with me, there’s something you should know.”
Cecilia looked me in the eye, fearful but ready for anything. “What is it? Tell me. I can handle it. Trust me.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s just,” I said, “they don’t usually allow you to take that many bags on a plane.”