Sally, steaming, noticing Sal screeching, stopped selling all those shells. Sal, sloshed, stumbled silly, crazed, and scary, swung his slender arms at the sand and snatched the shell of a fresh sea snail washed upon the seashore. “Sure! She sells the shells, sea snail shells, fresh seashore sea snail shells, but who shells the shells she sells? Sal!” Slender strings of glistening mucus stretched, spittling from Sal’s lips and settling somewhat on his distended stomach. Sal stood, savagely gesticulating, swinging his skinny limbs, nose scrunched in a scowl, “Slimy snail mucus smells! The shells she sells sop up the essence of those sickening snails! Vicious, grisly smell!”
Sal hissed, “Sally’s seashells smell! Smell the smelly seashell smell! The slithery snail smell!” Sally? Sally sells them smelly sea snail seashells she sees sunk in the section of seashore sand spanning from her seashell shack to sea! See seashells, sightseers!? Scads of scallop shells bespeckle the seashore sands just beside this smelly shack!” “So?” Sal seethed, seeing Sally sling these shells, “Shouldn’t these sightseers see these seashells as some sort of stinking scam? Certainly, strolling the seashore, and seeing seashells scattered in the sand is easy for these sandal suited tourists. Slews of shells flew fast, but Sal still smelled the smell, a sea smell in each shell that Sal shuddered smelling. Cash slipped from scores of thirsty sightseers’ sweaty grasps.
Sighing, Sal slumped his slim shape against the seashore slope six or seven paces from Sally’s smelly sea snail seashell shack. Sal thought he should sell shells, shiny in the sunshine seashore seashells, shimmering shale shaded shells, the shells the smelly Sally should sell, but seemed so set on selling only smelly souvenir sea snail shells. Each shell was well smelly with sea smells, smelly sea snail shells they were. Sullenly, Sal saw Sally sell seashell after seashell by the seashore.
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