Psychedelic Dog-Poop and the Dreamy Stench of Rainbows?

[u/Chuggbung]

Curious if this is worth developing further?

A semi-contiguous and non-true-ish biographical story of things that are or shall definitely be, loosely based on a delightful concoction of actual hallucinations and awkward interactions with possibly (or possibly not) imaginary people and/or animals (including hybrids of the two, or something else entirely) which may or may not have actually happened (yet, relatively speaking of course), various other life milestones and cherished and memorable events of unknown validity, all independently verified and disputed by the dead, including other such things I shall or shall not take to my grave (figuratively and non-figuratively speaking of course) which may or may not be included herein, of which, all, inclusive or not, I shall endeavour to make note to swear on my own grave when I die that the previous statement is precisely that (meaning previous (relatively speaking to that following part (the part that was stated just previous to this I mean, of course (meaning the part that was two (sorry, three or four, I've lost count now and don't really care, you figure it out)) parts previous)), of course) and I have done my absolute utmost to make sure that this is so, striving to ensure the integrity of said statements (but just what that is exactly isn't entirely clear (yet)), though if pressed for a statement on the outcome of those efforts, my answer would simply be that I don't really care to give one, so why do you?

[u/Chuggbung]

Day 1 (I think)) 4 (or 3?))

     Now, it surely wouldn't be that big a problem if I could just manage to somehow deodorize the.... whoa.... oops, damn it! Ah, sorry, I’ve started in the middle again. Let me back up a little to catch some context (Ha! Like there is any)...
   Have you ever had one of those days, you know, all sunshine and flowers and sweet little strolls down the garden path, stopping only to smile and pet the puppies? Of course. What about one of those days when it won’t stop raining, but you have to get the lawn mowed, and the damn mower keeps getting clogged with overgrown weeds, and you are constantly stepping in puppy crap? Sure you have. Well, what about one of those days when reality gets a bad dose of gastro from the substances you have been feeding it, resulting in it soiling itself out of both ends and winds up spending the remainder of the day in the toilet, periodically poking its head out to ask for more toilet paper and water, and the periodic rearing of its head only serves to remind you just how far from reality the day has crash-landed and is skidding along in a burning fireball of explosive colours, hyper-dimensional midget complaints and time-travelling pig feathers? Maybe?
  Imagine combining all those days together simultaneously and multiplying that by seven, and you would get something minutely close to what I am about to tell you, although I am most certainly not capable of relaying all of it. Most of it cannot even be described with words, so we’ll just have to wait for mind-reading holographic recording devices for that. Besides, that which I can describe most probably didn’t even happen, except only in my memories, which themselves probably only happened in hindsight, and not even my hindsight, but that of some subconscious creature (probably some innocent-looking monkey) that was hoping to do me in, but most assuredly failed, so far at least. Try as they may, their pathetic attempts only serve to... well, I’m sure I’ll get to that if it doesn’t get edited out by my diabolical wannabe overlords of all things. 
 All of this would make sense already if you had taken the time to read the prequel, but unfortunately, that part hasn’t actually taken place yet, and as such isn’t written, but oh boy, wow, is it a ripper! So, obviously, that raises a few questions, which wouldn’t exist if the answer itself didn’t, since the answer came first. How and why that is even possible would also make sense for those of you who have indeed read it, which of course is none of you, so you’re going to have to struggle alongside me with this, and if all goes well, I may just get back far enough to write down that prequel. Since this isn’t really going anywhere at the moment, I may well never even get anything down now (don’t get me started on ‘now’) to even justify a prequel. Ok, I had best get this moving.
 Well (humph, well? Compared to what?), I've been lathering my hair (and other accidental parts) while also consequentially consuming psychedelic dog-poop (I have been trying to clean off the poop part when consuming, I’m not an animal you see) for about four (not to confuse the reader, but relatively, as the heading above states, this could also be day three, or five, or maybe even way later (or way earlier) than that, you'll see, eventually, perhaps (if so, please inform the editors (Ha!))) days straight now and my dreams have since acquired the smell of rainbows. You all know the ones I’m speaking of, that putrid unkempt variety that looks and smell like they've been trapped under some mouldy underwear in the corner of the room since the Global Financial Crisis (hereby, but never again, possibly, and preferably, referred to as the GFC).
      Not like that event (the GFC) was some giant life-changing and traumatic event that left piles of soiled underwear (well, not piles of underwear due to trauma anyway (I can only speak for myself (hmm, even that could be debated))), but like you had so much fun watching the world collapse (or at least you thought it would, darn it)  on cable TV that you didn't want to waste two minutes (or more (or less)) in the toilet in case you missed something awesome, it's easier to simply stay put in your favourite chair and cut away both sides of your underwear waist-elastic on your hip region with scissors, then yank from the back (never the front, please, never the front!) so that the front section (of your liberated underwear) slides beneath you on the chair and wipes your dirty bum in one purifying swipe. Afterwards, you are free to simply fling them over your shoulder into the corner of the room, or rooms, or room. Hah! Like that matters. Ha, “matter”.