Whitney's Wedding Run

Being a true islander girl Whitney decided to change strategy and left the rangers patrolling inside the garden on the fantasy metropolis mass. Taking the starter optional payment, the positive enthusiastic young lady headed south towards Marry Land wanting a better living arrangement.
“I am sick of UBS’ing me,” she grumbled letting go to the social secure place called home and like a soaring bird on the motorcycle she spread her chrome freedom wings.

Spending the past couple years, the talented performer entertained those with deep pockets since they promoted her as a favorite especially when walking the skyscraper concrete streets surrounded by water. Due to the hustle and bustle nature, there was no guilt pocketing the winning fast breakin cash when each business day ended.

“You are all askin for a baskin,” she thought picking up speed knowing soon they would be out of the money, “they thought I was playing a ghost game well I will show them that could be true as I disappear.”

Arriving in the wedding capital, reality immediately stared Whitney in the face when archrival Laurel stood in the space where she was to park the two-wheeler.

“What brings you here?” Laurel presented folded arms signifying a power play.

“Need a man,” Whitney replied, “I was told to get off the turf, so I left good old Gotham,”

“Well, I have trash talkin Larry, you interested?” Laurel offered, “the maidens are claiming he is a winner.”

“You have other maidens?”

“Three, four, five of them, maybe more” Laurel reported, “all were told to get off the turf.”

Turning the engines to the silent position Whitney continued to browse, “what about the Italian Calipari?”

“He’s out of the money, wild cat instincts,” Laurel stated, “I could show you Ripken,”

“Does he still like the Big O?”

“Say can you see? Big O,” Laurel sorted out, “what I could tell you is he goes down to the wonder water place and takes a second to think about things.”

Hearing this it was off to the Loch Raven Reservoir and Whitney hiked through the enchanting forest, and suddenly appeared an over worked gentlemen standing there.

“Excuse me, Ripken? Are you the one with the long streak?”

“Yes, he replied, I once had a long streak and it looked beautiful but now, I watch the wakes emerge then calm down, and you are?”

“Whitney? I am a two-year old maiden from the north whose looking for a man to claim,”

“You do not look two years old,”

Starting to laugh Whitney clarified her statement, “that is how long I have been in show business, singer, dancer, all around life of the party.”

Coming closer to her Ripken, lowered his guard, “did someone seemingly to be a long shot say to you ‘they were the best sugar daddy ever’ and proceeded to prove they were a winner.”

“Why yes, he was a fighter and had a show where I was the round girl, called it Box N Ben, and every night dressed as a reindeer he would punch out some guy named Ben.” Whitney exclaimed, “then in a second told me to take a hint,”

“Was this person’s named Landon Jack?”

“Yes, he would landon a right and a left, then you would be jacked,”

Putting hands smoothly on his chin Ripken remembered, “Landon Jack was out of the money.”

“Do you think that is why I had to take a hint?” Whitney asked.

Shaking his head affirmatively Ripken concluded, “yup and it is now time to get married.”

Like a magical Tinkerbelle threw pixie dust a few weeks later there was a ceremony where Whitney was casted as the star and Ripken exchanged vows reading the same script. Later that night the two theatrical players grounded out and when the morning blossomed, they did not portray any anger instead were very thankful to be competing again in the game.