<strong>Moussad -  rain drops keep falling on his head</strong><br/><br/>Chuh Ching!<br/><br/>The sound of his fortune hitting him and falling harmlessly to the grid at his feet. Tons of stuff. A harvest of treasure as though she had been diving for pearls.  Why hadn’t he thought of this before?<br/><br/>There was even a future for the hardly used Trojans. Once inspected for holes those that past muster could be rinsed and rolled  up to be sold at retail on Amazon.  The yellow ducky without a quacker was destine for eBay as an antique.  The rain coat was trash bin food after checking the pockets.<br/><br/>“Yes..YES!! “ He cheered on his little bog muffin.<br/><br/>“Left… move it dah net to dah left Madforson… get dah big pieces….Okay! Good!! Good!!”<br/><br/>It wouldn’t be long before she had scoured  the bottom completely. A touching moment for Moussad to think that his pungent septic minx toiled so hard at the end of her rope to make them rich. He just wanted to hug her, after a good rinse of course. His exuberance radiating down to her as he shouted over the grinder now moving thru the muck towards her.<br/><br/>“I know you am busy but so much you working is no good idea any more. You say you ready and I pull on dah rope up!!  Promise!!”<br/><br/>