A titillating figure for a man not so much bent on math. But the old dogged mailman was hellbent on solving the crossword puzzle that crossed under the ham and cheese sandwich he had every day for lunch. "There was money to be had and a place to be made!", at least that is what the advertisement attached to the puzzle proclaimed. And even though his Aunt Magina, complete with aplomb and swag when she made his lunch in his youth, would caution him concerning the futility of such declarations in the blurred letters of The Times, Mr. Haggedwarmer was an optimist.
Eyeing his orange juice as half-full, the pertinacious persnickety mailman pressed onward, "and upward," he muttered, writing and figuring and drawing what he thought were the right conclusions. And that was when She sat down, Miss. Willamina Melody Ringmaster Wammy. She was a hoot and hollerin rowdy something, and she would have her man. Downing Mr. Haggedwarmer's juice and turning the man, Miss Melody (what she was called for short) pressed her red heels directly into the man's chest, happy for once to have worn pants that day. And the pen dropped, the numbers fell to pieces, egg and ham and juice and paper were forgotten in the bleary eye of this new possibility.
Money was had indeed.
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