Rumor Girls

Some time ago, down at the shore, Eddie’s angel performed in a show defending one’s firm turf, when a maiden started claiming about a backseat romance developing, within a second an Irish bred pretty thing was acknowledged, a winner. This promotional decision created a pass-fail dilemma before out of the money realities surfaced, nearly closing the production.

“Tavin, you're a winner,” a producer approached, “but what is going on with Eddie’s angel.”

“After the show, he said,” stagehand Tavin reported, expecting fast track starter optional claiming status, “he was enjoying fabulous candy when a southern groove that made his place rock, swung into the scene.”

Tavin continued, spinning his record statement, “picked up the newspaper the next day, read about the backseat romance and made a call.”

“Really,” the producer acted interested, “thank you.”

Thinking about the individual, wanting media attention, the producer went to the casting fishing pond, the local hospital emergency room, “Who's in charge nurse? And a follow-up. Whose out of the money?”

“How can I help you?” A white dressed authority character entered, defending health care’s firm turf.

“I am looking for the source,” the producer paused, “who spilled the beans on the backseat romance?”.

“It was a maiden with special weight,” a large ear medical technician expressed, “a winner named Souper Williwaw, a nice boy, came in here a few nights ago, she asked him ‘rescue me’ from this dramatic broken heart show, and he did, a real swashbuckling theatrical buccaneer.”

“Wait a second, the Producer threw up his arms, “are you sure? She wasn’t just another restless dreamer?”

“Actually, model talent came to this town with a high note, that vocal skill, put her out of the money, and we performed necessary financial surgery, assigning her bedpan cleaning.”

Well known fact, the producer’s Miss young lady was out of the money but during the show she sported a bonita diamond making everyone jealous. Always defending firm turf, attending night life recreational activities, the performing artist invaded dance clubs like a tornado, earning the nickname, Stormy Disco. Once heating the place up with a sultry routine number called ‘Wildcat Fire’ another maiden started claiming and the rumor mill electricity turned its water wheel.

Comfortably back on the fast track, ‘Stormy Disco’ formally Miss young lady received the truth, still classified, a winner, standing under the light post street sign ‘Oriole Way’. “Apparently, the show decided, ‘call the bullpen’ after hearing gossip,” the retiring quick fix concluded.

“I knew Misty Money the new maiden special weight, is always out of the money,” Stormy Disco spoke under her breath, “she blew the whistle.”

Next day the marquee magically changed now calling the place, ‘Rosie’s Cornet, where someone’s flower, soon would bloom’.

“We have a new winner,” the Producers were ecstatic, “and she has a Starview twinkle”

“What’s that?” An interested party inquired.

“Well, when a celebrity or star views it, they will have a twinkle.

“And who has joined our fast-track ensemble?”

“A vivid artiste who also was out of the money, in fact give me a second, her name is Chesterview Jane.”

“Chesterview Jane,” the press went wild, “she is the original maiden, who loved claiming.”

Walking into the controlled illumination the attention getter waved, and papers printed she joined the show due to sinister grin features, described simply as ‘edge of the blade’.

“Good point Liam,” Chesterview Jane stared down the notetaker, “that is why I am a winner, I love doing claiming, I say kantknowitall in this place. Am I right?”

“So, when is it Jerry’s turn in the show?” Another peanut gallery inquiry surfaced, interrupted when a disturbance rumbled at the theater’s front. “Oh, Chesterview Jane, its University Day, they came to see a true dress rehearsal.”

“Oh yes, those academic samples are harbor gold, out of the money, but rich in enthusiasm,” Chesterview Jane concluded.

“Can someone channel the music?” An intercom voice bellowed, “then we can get this show started.”

Chesterview Jane embraced being back on the fast track, strutting her maiden special weight appearance, sneaking behind the curtain hearing one professor announce, “those were wise words, Chesterview Jane spoke a few seconds ago.”

“Did you hear thunder Chuck?” Someone verbally overpowered the lecturer, “she is a winner.”

“And when out of the money, she played a flyin Hawaiian.” Professor Chuck retaliated.

With the fast track turning muddy, many youthful onlookers expected nasty slinging claiming issues to be waged while the audience quietly occupied their seats. After two and half hours the ensemble gathered on stage for bows and the headline lady Chesterview Jane collected emotional applause, public acknowledging a fantastic show performance.

“I tell you,” A critic commentated, “Chesterview Jane has that purple violet smile, that makes her a winner.”

“My honeybunch,” the scribes female companion smirked, “not long ago the tramp was out of the money.”

“Wait a second why don’t you forget that financial umbral shadow,” the journalist defended.

“Just here to be your fact checker,” the developing trusting friend, cheek pecked him before returning to clapping.