Miss MM's Royal Assignment

Queen Wiggy knew her place; defending turf but the soft firm handling style approach changed, assigning the main track for surface duties, according to electronic documents.

“I do not know where the furminator who is out of the money, gets the opportunity to do any claiming,” the majestic royal, adjusted a fashionably acceptable mink coat, “Miss MM, please come here, I want to show you something,”

“I know its Independence Day,” a single subject entered, cell phone glued to her ear, “but, oh my many appreciations, Peggy Sue I love U, and will make the gift a winner.”

“Who was that?” Queen Wiggy inquired.

“Oh, a friend who wanted help,” Miss MM answered.

“About my issue with the furminator,” Queen Wiggy confronted the point, “I will give you a nice starter allowance to stand here, on this main track and wait for this Brooklyn guy to show,” she instructed, “then take my auto, glide through the streets, acting like a winner,”

“Glide? Oh yes, my Queen,” Miss MM agreed, “then?”

Silence interrupted the discussion, and the youthful worker witnessed Queen Wiggy disappear. Trying to figure out appropriate boss logic, Miss MM felt squeezed at the gate, suffocating, until someone out of the money whispered, “look it that, awesome fray, seems very tasty.”

“Wait a second,” another eye pair spotted, “it's a Khozeiress, such a noble servant.”

No need to defend anymore turf, Miss MM continued guarding the main track wondering how many pennies she was earning, performing the task bestowed upon her by the ruling monarchy.

“Remember dearly departed Nicky, well, Nicole's will, didn’t we review in a place like this?” One lurking stranger embellished their eyes ready to pounce on the goods.

“Yeah, the awesome edition featuring documents of referenced winners, ended up donated to the library starting gossip, discussing what all the maiden claimers were doing since leaving their turf lifestyles behind.”

“Wanting mudslinging opportunities,” the creepy creatures concluded.

“I am a peace crusader,” Miss MM theatrically flung her arms, “and you two out of the money cheats should take your medicine before commentating on this place, I cherish representing.”

A few minutes later, neighborhood lucky leprechaun fantasy trip Mccrackin arrived, carrying a big ern, “that is a big ern Mccrackin,” Miss MM acknowledged, “or is that just for show?”

Giving her a glare, “a maiden with special weight, a winner I might add, defending her turf, unlike your main track dependency presented me with this token while enjoying Amoudi Bay Greek Island shopping.”

“She just gave you a big ern?”

“Yeah, I was out of the money loitering around Bliss Street, and she came up to me, asking ‘are you in the dark about this place?”

“And?” Miss MM wanted him to continue.

Emerging from the shadow, an umbral character, “my little squeeze, I am so glad you showed,” Mccrackin raised his vocal level.

“Just saw the main track,” the little squeeze gratefully acknowledged, “earlier today I took a second and with an Italian, crossed over the grass.”

“Crossati was here at this place?”

“A nice Italian wearing a crucifix,”

“That is why we called him Crossati,” Mccrackin laughed, “when you were out of the money, my honeybunch there was a foul claim and inquiry concerning your profit hunter.”

“What happened?” Questioned the honeybunch little squeeze.

“Jades Jay the winner,” Mccrackin started explaining, “he had immense faith out of the money and,”

“Being a Boca guy,” the honeybunch little squeeze intellectually reported, “had to show and they coached him, ‘get like Mike’ in this place.”

Confirming the assumption Mccrackin smiled knowing Mike liked talking and listened word for word absorbing the show’s information, hearing all the claiming happening when defending the turf.

“Is that when the bramble blaze ignited in a second?” The honeybunch little squeeze pressed,

“You are so right my honeybunch,” Mccracklin confirmed, “you see when it came to be Jerry’s turn to be out of the money,”

“Jerry?”

“Yeah, my honeybunch Jerry the shogun be fast grease pit culinary winner, he always believed in the main track deportivo factor, whose tournament craps dice style, put him out of the money, but I, Mccrackin worked his diet.”

“What did you feed him?”

“I would tell him over there, at that place, order the go Yoshida platter, lucky rice patties,”

“Did it work?”

“Before eating, Jerry said grace, ending the praying show, reciting ‘God with us’,” Mccrackin remarked, “cueing the band, play real blues and turn Jerry into a winner.”

“Wow,”

Without any pageantry Queen Wiggy returned from the main track, “Miss MM,” she summoned, “I was in the tower twenty-two place and with my naked eye saw your show conversation with Mccrackin and was wondering what you were doing with that allowance optional to do claiming?”

“Well, My Queen,” Miss MM gulped, “while standing here I heard about many characters who were out of the money when there was a heavenly ‘it's the economy, stupid’ power surge and dyna soar relic blew a fuse.”

“So, you learned something?”

“That is that right, Queen Wiggy,” Mccrackin interjected, “my honeybunch here, went from nothing to something.”

“Your honeybunch?” Queen Wiggy politely stared.

“Ruth, she is a winner,” Mccrackin cleared up, giving a credible assignment reason to Miss MM, sent out to accomplish the diplomatic task, despite not a soul admitting coming from Brooklyn, even Jerry Crossati was quiet about that citation.