It's called chocolate covered espresso beans.
Okay, says an odd little voice in his head, now would be a good time. The world shatters.
He imagines he's dying, though of course that's ridiculous and his imagination is not to be trusted and he thinks he's going mad and he sometimes wishes that someone would just saw off the top of his head and take out his brain and just let him live in peace. Or die in peace. It's all the same.
He imagines that it would be like this, if the world wasn't melting and tie-dyeing and being a marvelous infinity land dancing and maybe tango would be a nice dance or techno or screamo – they're all the same anyways, but this is what it would be like if he wasn't trapped in Wonderland – we're all mad here, said the Cat– but maybe he had a kind and loving family even if there's no basis in fact to that statement, and the daisies, the sea of daisies (Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do), that's what's really important, they keep flowing and his world is spiraling out of control and he suddenly fancies he's
CRAZY
Italicized bolded underlined true! And can you put gay people in a straight jacket and it's too hard for his mind to create words and to finish the unwritten unspoken unrated uncut unnecessary untitled thoughts whizzing through his brain at a thousand light-years a second but what if it's all true? Ah, see what I've descended into with no one to talk to, says the Cat.
Fizzing whizbees and a box full of acid pops – ah, this is the life. Did you know that a page full of insects is a lot more interesting that a page that is not full of insects? He watches the chocolate ice cream line up for the guillotine and what a strange party, but the hostess has very pretty intestines.
The black clouds his vision, and the penguins doff their hats and say adieu.
I don't mind if nobody got that... yeah, I was on a caffeine rush and it just seemed like a good idea to pinpoint the exact moment when our favorite puppy goes mad... even if he thinks he's still as sane as a fish. Very short.