Whack

I'm going out, I said.

"Out where?"
Not sure.
"Why?"
Need whack.
"What?"
No. Whack. There's plenty of watt here. Look at all the bulbs.
I need whack. I'm out of whack, you're out of whack, everything's out of whack.
"Whack." It wasn't a question.
Whack, I confirmed.
"While you're out, would you get a stare?"
Stair?
"Stare."
What's wrong with the stair we have? It goes all the way upstairs.
"No. Stare. The fridge is on the blink. Needs stare."
I'll see what I can find.
"I remember when you were gruntled."
I was once. And turbed. All that's gone - dissipated.
"Wish we could pate it back."
Me too.
I walked out the door and saw that the front walkway was discrete.
It used to be concrete. Not any more.
I started the car, but I couldn't finish it. It ran, so I had to chase it.
Then I drove it all the way to town. By then I was panting and the car had whip marks on its back. Guess that's why I couldn't finish it. I removed all the extra pants until the panting stopped, then I put the car in park. The park ranger made me move it.
I walked into a store. Ow. I backed up and walked through the door. Fortunately it was open so I did no damage.
Got any whack? I asked the clerk.
"Any what?"
No. Whack. I'm completely out of it.
"I'll say."
Say what?
"You're out of it."
No. I'm not out of what. I'm out of whack. I also need a stare.
He stared. Good. Got that off my list. Now the list was only about 12 degrees to port. Still out of whack.
I walked to the next store.
I need whack, I said.
"Wax?" he said.
No, one's enough, I said.
"You some kind of whacko?"
If I were, I'd have plenty of whack, wouldn't I? But I don't. My whole house is out of whack. Where can I get some more?
He picked up a bat.
Whack!
I am gruntled and turbed again. And definitely in whack.
Ow.