Mainly M's

“Mangy moggie!” my mother, Marion, moaned, mopping manky mustardy meat motes, moving mostly menacingly. “Must Mabel mangle my modest meals?”

My marrow mattified.

“Mum,” my mouth managed, “May many mincing men meet me, Monday morning.”

“Mindy,” murmured Mummy. “My mortal mind muddles. Make me more modern, Miss.”

The End

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