The Carmer And The Lost Soul

Spending time, relaxing, enjoying Cardiff by the sea, despite out of the money realities, Lennilu showed great strength receiving the message Queen Mary had in her bloody stake cannister.

“Going good to firm,” the gothic document stated, “I defend this powerful turf, and due to your flowerhead place in society I must end your staya option due to out of the money issues,”

“But my dear Queen,” Lennilu wept, “A winning true lover was never granted.”

Picking herself up, the gypsy tramp peered out, observing the water discovering a discarded royal ascot wondering if the magical accessary could assist her during this treacherous life chapter.

Following the journey path, Lennilu felt overheated, releasing uncomfortable sweat, nervous about the situation she had to confront, “how much further do I have to go to this place,” the innocent victim requested.

“Not much longer, sweetie,” a Carmer displaying a glowing winning personality and holding the Queen’s Vase, won in a holy poker game answered, “upon arrival you will meet Rahiebb and view a scheduled show.”

“A show?”

“Yeah,” the Carmer confirmed, “you see, the Duke of Cambridge, received a great emotional bloody stake cannister containing second group relegation papers.”

“Second group?”

“Yes, my dear, he found a fallen angel and gave him a show,” the Carmer informed, “that is where the Rahiebb character was developed.”

“Character?” Lennilu quipped, “I know I have been living the Cinderella’s dream in this place, but”

“But beware,” the Carmer warned, “the reason the crimson advocate is considered a winner, their actions provide important results.”

Like the Duke of Cambridge, the Prince of Wales, also had a stake and seemed concerned accepting group one promotional status. Hearing about Queen Mary’s eviction action the monarch leader sent out a winning ombudsman, instructing the watchdog ‘monitor any lost souls getting closer’.

“And what are you two doing here?” The ombudsman stuck out his chest, “the landlord family are noticing a pattern, style and form of jester branded acts and were wondering if you two were originals?”

“Did you see the fire show?” the Carmer asked.

“Where?”

“There,” pointed the Carmer, distracting the ombudsman’s attention, allowing the staged disappearing act to occur.

“Is that what they consider a crimson advocate?” Lennilu inquired.

“No,” the Carmer clarified, “you see sometimes when we need to defend our theatrical heritage, we move pounds around. And one time I went to the Royal Hunt Club and,”

“I thought you were a Carmer,” Lennilu seemed confused.

“I am, the Greek order,”

“Is that why you are out of the money?”

Pausing a second the Carmer caught her breath before continuing, “let me make this bullet point, enjoying my cloud, winning God’s graces, I wanted Bo Pedro and his show wool, so I auditioned for the urban lion role.”

“That put you out of the money?”

“Yup, and my cloud saw heaven.”

Off in the distance Kensington Palace, notorious known for having stakes, projected a hopeful oasis landmark, “I moved pounds around over there and performed as a Cheshire dancer in a show. Producer gave me, this sludgy dirt compound to make me attractive, Muddy Mooy the package said.”

“Well, did it make you look beautiful?”

“Muddy Mooy put me out of the money, and I heard it from my cloud,”

Proceeding towards the noble outpost, the Carmer wouldn’t stop, until sign direction required interpretation, “you need to pass a Sneller eye chart test to get into this place.”

“Yes, can I help you?” A beautiful model like greeter welcomed.

“And who are you?” The Carmer investigated.

“Miss information and I am a winner,”

“That must make me, Miss appropriate funds, and I am out of the money,” the Carmer sarcastically stated.

“We know,” Miss Information retaliated, “you were such the winner during the Havanna Hurricane.”

“All right, things got out of control,” the Carmer confessed.

“Windsor Castle was at stake,” Miss Information exclaimed, recounting, and slammed the door, “it almost was listed for sale.”

“Darn I was hoping we could share some pie,” the Carmer turned to Lennilu, “my dear Azizam, about a show, you need a rogue legend.”

“But you may be out of the money,” Lennilu noted.

“Not if the cards are played properly,”

“Well,” Lennilu spoke, “I have a royal flush, and I am going to find a place and write like a Dickensian”

“I wouldn’t do that,” the Carmer watched Lennilu leave, “he’s an actor.”