The Price of Crabs

A small sleepy fishing village in Southwest Florida where nothing has changed in fifty years was about to find itself under siege from Don Buyers an architect-developer from Chicago. The locals enjoyed a way of life; they fished for a living, fought on Saturday night at the local watering hole, ‘Whisky Corners’, and would put a GONE FISHING sign in their storefront window, when the mood struck. They lived simply, no law enforcement, no streetlights, or traffic lights. Most of the roads were not paved and children walked barefoot to school. After Kate’s Callahan’s husband died unexpectedly, she left Chicago with its problems and drug scene behind. She settled in the small, sleepy village of Shell Creek in SW Florida and opened an ice cream shop. Totally immersed in the local way of life, she found paradise. When Don Buyers stumbled into Kate’s ice cream shop looking for the Crab Lady to purchase dollar crabs for tarpon fishing, he became insulting and haggled with the Crab Lady over the price of crabs. Kate called him an alligator mouth with a canary asshole. That comment was the catalyst. It festered. He wanted revenge. The disparaging remark haunted him even when he returned to Chicago. He thought about all the undeveloped land, the deserted beaches, waterways and inlets. He was feeling less than fully fulfilled and on a freezing night at Navy Pier, he made his decision to proceed with a plan that would shatter Kate’s paradise. Shell Creek would never be the same again. Don Buyers’ plan to develop would bring massive change to the area and bring both resentment and excitement. Change came as a double edge sword…. depression because of the loss of a way of life, and optimism for the future. The price of crabs became the cost of progress.