The salty sandy stinging stapled silly putty surreptitiously slid silently slowly smoothly stealthily from my hand. Enoch sighed.

Where did it go?

My dexterous dedicated decisive digits
waved wildly wandering under the wet warm waters of the sea.
Stupid salty stinging silly putty. The staples to the sand sliced
rough real rocks really rolling (reeling) relentlessly away,
staples don't stick to sand.

The troubling terrible tremendous tide took tar to the putty, trampling
initial idolized icy ideas of disposing the
dirty dinghy dank dumb drudge from my dexterous digits in the
wild wandering waves. Enoch stared.

Whatever.

Which way will wily wanderers walk when waving wacko driver down?

Wherever.

When whilst whamming whales with wide water slides, who cares?
They all do.

"And that's the beauty of it, one more time than otherwise would have made sense.
Walking with wandering whales on the waves, whacking the wild wackos with whatever, when and where will it all end?" He thought.

"It's ending.

Right.

About.

Now."