Millicent and Mabel mused and mulled, unable to make up their minds. “Maybe” was all they could mouth, mystified by morose mice, managing masticating mammoths. Millicent and Mabel were in the middle, neither here nor there, on the fence, mired down in a muddy mangle of indecision. Maybe mounds of money might motivate them momentarily. Or – might not. Mistakes make for monstrous messes, meaning miles of melting mud pies and molding, mildewed muffins.
“Just make up your minds,” moaned mealy, milk toast Muppets.
“Maybe,” murmured Mabel and Millicent, “we’re missing some of our marbles, which has us in a muddle. Give us a moment or a minute or a millipede. With no marbles, mind you, no masterful meanings or mystifications, just mere muffled monkey business, meaningless matters.” Millicent and Mabel motioned to the mystical masterminds of all things: the mongoose, the mule, the mouse and the mole.
“Can you help us make up our minds? Or does it matter?”
“Weeelll”, they mumbled… “Maybe. Mostly it’s a matter of “may we” or “mayn’t we. It all depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On your mood at the moment….or maybe upon the import of the matter. May we inquire as to the nature of the matter?”
“The matter on your minds.”
“Our missing marbles?”
“My, My!” said the malodorous mongoose. “M-m-missing marbles? They might c-c-cause multifarious mefuddlebent and misinterpretations. The misplaced m-m-marbles must be colated-located before making up your m-m-minds.”
“Masterful! Our thinking all along. “Maybe” is the most mellifluous maneuver for the matter on our minds,” mewed Mabel and Millicent.
“Besides, what does it matter?”