I felt like a new man after running through the car wash, all sparkly clean, rub-a-dub-dub. It had even brushed my teeth because I'd had my cake hole open at the time (I was screaming). My toothy-choppers were gleaming white, even though everything still tasted of soap and I was foaming at the mouth. I just styled it out.
Whatever. The point is, I realised that I had been living by the bins for too long and it was time to resume my quest to recover my naughty giant sandwich. I planned to start hitchy-hiking again, but then I saw a party balloon float past me, ducking and bobbing on the wind, and I had a sudden brain spasm. I could travel by forklift truck! No, even better - I could travel by balloon!
You see, there are shops where you get these party balloons, and they fill them with special air which makes them go up in the sky, so that you lose them and have to buy more. You can get them to celebrate all sorts of special occasions, such as getting a new chicken, or passing your dribbling test, or successfully constructing a box girder bridge. All I needed to do was find the right kind of shop, so I went down the high street, past the window with the faceless plastic ladies wearing new dresses, past the window with the shiny rings and necklaces, WHICH YOU CANNOT EAT, until I came to a window that was all sparkly tinsel and glitter and things. There was a banner that said 'Congratulations on your new pig', so I figured that this was the very place I was looking for. I went inside and asked how many balloons I would need to float me to Windemere.
Now, I'm sure you would agree that it's a simple enough question, but the silly girl behind the counter just pulled a stupid face at me. I asked to speak to her manager, and when the manager came I asked her how many balloons it would take me to get to Windemere. She pulled a stupid face as well, so I asked to speak to her manager. Anyway, several managers later, I walked out of the shop with four thousand floaty balloons.