Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Attempts to resolve the Quandary:


Morrie Micklewhite met them at New York's Trumpington City Airport on their arrival and in a small bar, introduced them to their fabricated ID for admission to the Hospital Suite at Trumpington Tower: he gave each of them a small silk bag which, he promised would grant them access; each bag contained a rubbery forefinger which Morrie explained was a fusion of silicon and Coca-Cola: "the scientists have discovered that the DNA of Coke is the closes thing to Human DNA, it's our 'First Cousin' apparently, and when you stick this in the small hole in the panel, it takes a blood-sample (or in this case, a Coca-Cola sample) and that will confirm you as three members of the Hospital Suite staff; don't ask me how or why, I'm just givin you what I've been given, whadda I know aboudit?" and while both Sadie and Rose looked suitably creeped-out with the unexpectedness of this particular thing, Hyman admired the genius of whoever had thought up this identification process: "does access to the Tower itself have the same type of check?" he asked, and Morrie shook his head: "thank goddits diffrent," he laughed, "we just got 'iris-scan idents', I couldna puddup with havina needle in my finger every time I wanna go in or out; now, here's what you goddado first," and he explained the shift patterns he had observed at the access point a block from the Tower itself! Hyman shook the man's hand warmly: "you have certainly paved the way for us, Morrie – am I right in thinking you used to be a cop?" and the blush extended to the younger man's ears: "howdya knowdat? Miss Mitnick, right? she genned ya up?" and Hyman shook his head: "nah, Morrie, my uncle was a cop in the Bronx, that's where ah was bornanbred so I know NYPD – Jews, Irish and Italian, in my day, an youwannaknow? you all talkadesameway, can't hide it, can't change it, can't do widdout it, it's in the air you breath, the water you drink, it's inhere," and he patted his chest, indicating his heart, "so how come a nice Jewish boy like you comes to be working fer the Trumpet-Trousers?" and it was Morrie's turn to shake his head: "I'm still in the Department, Mr Kaplan, but I'm undacover – you remember the old FBI was investigatin corruption and malfeasance in a Public Office under TTTF?" and he saw a momentary confusion on the older man's face before he grinned and said: "Trumpet-Trousers the First!" and Morrie continued, "yeah, well the department inherited a loada the old FBI files and we've been following up stuff that isn't covered by any shenanigans to circumvent the Statute of Limitations; the Federal Laws weren't all automatically transferred to States after the 'Break-Up' but some of the FBI agents were transferred, if they wanted to be, and we got some good guys from the NY Office and been working the case deep underground, only one or two DA's know about it, but my boss, Sam Pinsky, said it was okay to bring you in – he remembers you from way back!" and Hyman frowned: "not too far back, I hope! maybe I look old but it's just that I'm undercover doin investigative research in a retirement home for ballet dancers, some of them look overweight and heavy, yet they can still move ballon, so light on their feet you think a puff of wind would blow them up to the ceiling, but I didn't have time to wash the make-up off! don't worry, Morrie, I'm just joshin ya!" and the younger man looked relieved: "well, I was put on the books of an Employment Agency that supplies Security personnel to the Trumpet-Trousers Organisation, among others, the department knows it's a cover for criminal activity, we're all classed as self-employed and we do different Tours, go where we're sent, can't pick and choose, no work, no pay, anyway, after I proved my worth I was put on the longlist, which is from where they eventually select guys to work at the Tower," and Hyman sympathised: "it's the same for us, most journos now, papers and magazines whether hard copy or on-line, have very few staffers, they just pick and choose copy from freelancers like us, or the agencies, who all use freelance too, same with TV it's only the anchors on contracts, all the others, reporters, cameras, are working freelance and posting their stuff, everything is virtual now, the whole News Industry is in silico, nothing is real any more, including jobs – if it's picked up, they get paid, if not, they don't; it's a dog-eat-dog world out there Morrie, and the Trumpet-Trousers did a lot to create it, but hey' we'd better check in somewhere and prepare for our shift at the Tower," and Morrie laughed, "no hotel for you guys, Silva, my goyl, her mom Golda's waitin fer ya and she don't take no no for an answer," and Hyman glanced at Sadie and Rose, grinned and said: "I never met a nice Jewish girl who did, Morrie, so lead the way!"

(by MissTeriWoman)
The Quandary for Friday, July 28, 2017 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

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