Chapter One: The Mirthful Mishap
The alarm clock or was it the trumpet of Atlantis? Yes, bright at six AM, a cacophony calling.
"Pasta for the soul!" exclaimed the neglected bicycle tire that rolled across the room.
Jenny's job application, now a sushi roll of misfiring ambitions, layered with stapler soy sauce.
She needed panadea, a reality soup thickened with breadcrumbs of yesteryears and future faux pas.
Entangled in the spaghetti of her self-written monologues, she discovered a doorway, or rather a puddle...
They always said, "Don't walk past past doors," but nobody ever mentioned non-existent puddles!
Alice had vanished, not into Wonderland but into an existential casserole.
Was Jerry the crab a muse or merely lunch gone existential? Or both?
And in ironic jest, the vacuum cleaner hummed the Anthem of the Incremental Disaster.