Vocab #7

After our shenanigans with the drug cartel, we began to ricochet from truck to truck in order to eschew our enemies. Our ephemeral happiness was curtailed by a plethora of bullets that pierced the truck right before we entered the port. Luckily, we were able to outsmart the wonky grunts they sent after us, but we still found ourselves running through the marketplace with capricious music which juxtaposed the terror of our position. There was a schism between the massive crowd, so we were able to lose the additional ebullient drug cartel assassins. After the sesquipedalian chase, the four of us decided that we needed to get on a boat in order lose all trace of the drug cartel. Shane and Colter went to ask a local fisherman to help us, but instead it turned into a garrulous, inchoate debate that provided no help once so ever. The fisherman was perspicacious, who wore clothes made of mungo and used various diphthongs, which made his speech sound like complete codswallop at times. Now, his loquacious speech was absolutely terrible, but it was worth it in the end since he agreed to allow us to come on his boat. Each of us felt a great sense of relief and interdependence once we finally boarded the boat and set sail.