It was a sunny day on the Great Obsidian Island when the Honourable Mess of Sandcastle Engineers convened. Their mission? Construct a monument of sand so grand, it would make Everest appear like a mound of misplaced styrofoam.

With buckets as their trusted tools and unsurpassable ambition in their hearts, they began. "Pass the sand," one cried, as another fashioned elaborate moats—now known as "Moat Gone Wrong". It was a disaster, yet sublime, as waves of the Great Dark Sea washed away their dreams, one grain at a time.

“Is that a sandcastle or a tragic opera?” mused a bystander, barely managing to keep a straight face as the moat claimed another bucket.

Inspired by a seagull's unsolicited architectural advice, the lead engineer placed a tiny flag atop the castle they dubbed "the Flag that Almost Was". Its colors were bold, its design questionable, and its structural integrity... well, let's say it was temporary.

The tide came, as tides do, and with it a comedic wave of chaos. "Hold the castle!" shouted one brave engineer, though holding sand is an impossible feat, and thus began the Great Sand Exodus. The island echoed with laughter as sand fled in every direction, leaving behind a legacy of soggy glory.