Sunday, Sally was voted off the pier with a tear.

Monday, Sally was voted off the dock—which was a crock.

Tuesday, Sally was voted off the berg while she vociferated, “Urgh!”

Wednesday, Sally was voted off the beach in spite of the clemency she did beseech.

Thursday, Sally was voted off the raft—yet another day of getting the shaft.

Friday, Sally was voted off the float as the determined demote.

Saturday, Sally sought a psephologist for some much needed hope and recourse and was promptly advised that to relieve her bark from becoming even more hoarse, she would need to learn how to finally finagle flippers of fate by scootch force. ; )