"Hey, Joe, did you hear I was taking my yellow, twenty-foot SeaDoo fishing boat I own out tomorrow to Lake Wimiwikipeepee up in the mountains down south, which I haven't been to for years? I'm saying all of this to you in one giant breath, which seems to last forever, don't you think? I think so. Don't you? Here, I'll let you speak now."
"Yeah, Bill, I did hear you were going to Lake Wimiwikipeepee. I hope you catch a lot of fish like that last time. Normal people don't carry on in long conversation about simple subjects like fishing, do they? Because this is starting to sound weird, as if someone is forcefully putting these words onto paper, stuffing them into my head, and making me say them syllable by stupid syllable. By the way, what type of fish are you fishing for? Man, those lures look shiny."
"I thought me and the kids would cruise around for a while, maybe all the way around Lake Wimiwikipeepee a couple of times, and then we'd put on those green and black-stripped trout lures there. You know, for trout."
"Funny, my wife never shuts up. Sometimes she just keeps yaking and yaking and yaking away in longwinded sentences while I force my eyes open to keep on listening to the many unimportant words that come out of her mouth. And sometimes, she smells like fish."