Finish the sentence

Poor Peter pan ... always the bridesmaid! He pays one of the lost boys in stolen willy wonka chocolate to take one for the team this time and clip clops (because he accidently/on purpose forgot he was still wearing the naughty nurse kitten heels, they were after all laboutins in his size and he loved being taller and the elongation of his calf muscles) as he backs away from the awkwardness slowly and snorts some magical tinkerbell pixie dust and flies off to ...
 
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. . . sprouted wings to wend his way over the far Tortuga, eventually settling on some lone obscure peak in the French Andes, where he was greeted by an old raggedy bearded sage, to whom he eagerly spouted, "I have come to learn the meaning of life!" But the sage only bowed and shook his head, withdrawing into the black pit of the cave that been his shelter for some 40 years. When he returned he wore a sagely enigmatic grin and held in his hand a . . .
 
... giant purple watering can. "Aha," said the sage as he watered his sage, "this vessel is perfect for watering a sage's sage!" Then, on the sage's stage sat the sage's mage, earning his page's wage. "Heck," he coughed, "what's up with all this...
 
Rhyming business?
"Shit!
Maybe it wasn't Sage in my cup! I may had a seniors moment and steeped my other favourite pungent plant in my tea ... AGAIN!" He rubbed his elderly eyes with withered, weathered hands and took another deep sip of the hot, green tea, sighed and felt ...
 
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A sudden pain in his right foot. The sage had stepped in broken glass and was now bleeding profusely. Fortunately, Gerald, his neighbour, heard his cries for help and alerted the authorities. Ten minutes later, he was taken...
 
captive by a band of renegade groundhogs, carried prone on the collective furry little backs of the critters pressed together to form a kind of mammalian gurney. "Where are you taking me?" cried the sage, his little sagely foot bleeding sagely. But the groundhogs remained silent, bearing him away to the land of . . .
 
Groundhog Daycare, where Phil Connors constantly screams at them to "Dont drive angry, Dont drive angry." At time I wish I could ...
 
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“drive angry,” said the enraged and caged sage. “Why not? I really really want to drive angry. Just once. To see what it’s like. But that dang Phil Connors says no. I know that all these little groundhogs want to drive angry too.” Just then a battered 1980 Ford Econoline pulled up loaded with groundhogs. Louie, the chubby hipster groundhog from Peoria was in the drive’s seat. “Quick,” said Louie to the sage. “We’re breaking out! Get in.” A smile lit up the sage’s face. “Want to drive?” said Louie. Just then Phil Connors pulled up in his hot rod Lincoln, blocking the van. The sage . . .
 
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