Mister Two Point Two Miller considered himself always in need of free cash. He put his money where his heart was. Could he call himself wealthy? Well, maybe medium prosperous, medium-lite rich or ultra-lite tycoonish. So, the world was his treasure island.
Mister Two Point Two Miller washed ashore and looked around. Wait, there's another guy on his turf. What you looking for, the other guy said. How about anything over two point two mil? Ah, why that number? Random. Don't you dig that way. No, when I stumble over it, I'll find. Yeah, you'll stumble alright.
Mister Two Point Two Miller woke up on the beach and … eh, no looking around. He had a heartache. Two guys were digging a hole and dropped something in it. They sneaked away. Let's see what's in there. Hashtag. It's x point x mil! The two guys visited him in his beach hut. When they left, he was unconscious for two point two hours.
Mister Two Point Two Miller couldn't sleep. His head was a jungle, his mouth a desert. But his heart was his money. He picked up a torch and went for a prowl. An unlucky moon rolled around heaven all night. Jeez, you scare me, a voice said. I'm not looking for you. Well, you sure found me, the avatar said. Are you real? Hear who's asking. Uh, yeah, you got a point. Thnx for the point, but I gotta go. Seems you haven't found the two point two yet. How do you know I'm looking? Tss, we virtual things have a line on each other.
Right, I'm sticking with you. Mister you're welcome. We two got the point, let's go find the other two.