Madlib Wordbank starter

chat gpt generated fever dream bc i haven't slept in 4 days and i am gonna crash out

sample response:

At exactly 11 a.m., I entered the cafe through the ceiling, humming an ancient ringtone only spiders remember, wearing poppy-seed pants and a hat made of paper lies; the cat at the register—wearing three monocles and no shame—handed me a juicy VHS tape and muttered, “The flowers know your sins.” The internet was leaking Morse code from the light fixtures, a blender was running for mayor on a platform of toast, and I slipped on a scream shaped like my first mistake. I cried maple syrup, then drank a latte made of static and poorly timed forgiveness. The scene shifted: gravity forgot itself, the chairs tap-danced into the void, and a horrendous woman with elbows for eyes demanded, “Give me 11 shrieks and a coupon for silence.” I nodded, tied my shoelaces to a disapproving cloud, and moonwalked into a whisper shaped like guilt—just as the walls folded inward and the cafe ceiling opened again, welcoming me back at exactly 11 a.m., humming that same ringtone only spiders remember.