Jazzmin Flush (56)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (56)"
  
  Jazzmin Flush was emotionally crushed; specifically, her father had, not angelically, architected a pistol-packing plan to regain his stolen funds from the self-obsessed woman he wrongfully married, rightfully returning Jazzmin's sacred inheritance--long overdo, this lack of family trust twisting her into a magnanimous vagrant of sorts.  But Jazzmin Flush was no thief.
   "I am."  Rascal boasted upon her return, her hindquarters still a bit inflamed and itchy.  "Coyotes are renowned for righteously ripping off larger predators.  And Jazzmin's stepdame sounds too selfish to ever attain spiritual peace without our interference.  Totally, she's building up some waaaay bad karma for herself with all that greed, and we could straighten her out with a spanking."
   "She likes to be spanked."  Donald Flush admitted.
   "I'm out."  Thomas stoic.  "Gonna check on Fredrica."  And he made like Tom and cruised.
   "We can't do this Daddy."  Jazzmin confessed.  "I don't have it in me to be naughty."
   Donald Flush was like, "I get it girl.  But now--so should you.  I slaved my way working as a mathematician--your birth mother getting me through college with her labor.  The myriads of monies I worked for in hopes of bettering my offspring belong to you.  You, by blood, deserve a little nest egg."
   "I'll help you Mr. Flush."  Rascal grinned hotly.  "Uh--I mean Donald."
   Jazzmin blew the gold out of her eyes, blushed, and profanely uttered:  "Shit."