AITA for teaching quantum origami to a herd of sentient socks while riding a narwhal through my neighbor’s lava lamp?


So, I woke up this morning inside my own eyebrow. I didn’t know how I got there, but my cat, Sir Floofington, handed me a tiny accordion and said, “Time is spaghetti.” Naturally, I agreed, because obviously.

Then I mounted my narwhal, Sir Nibbles, who insists he is part-time traffic cone, and rode him through my neighbor’s lava lamp. The lamp screamed in binary, and apparently that counted as applause.

Meanwhile, a herd of sentient socks appeared out of nowhere, complaining that I hadn’t taught them quantum origami yet. I started folding them into impossible shapes: tesseracts, donuts that bite back, and a small black hole that smells faintly of bubblegum. They applauded by flapping themselves like wings and chanting the chemical formula for laughter backwards.

At some point, a sandwich wearing a top hat accused me of stealing the sun, which I denied, but accidentally ate the moon while trying to prove my innocence. Now the Earth is slightly more almond-shaped.

Then I realized I had two brains but only one soul, so I borrowed a third from my neighbor’s pet rock, which immediately demanded rent in the form of interpretive dance. I agreed because negotiation is key.

So AITA for riding a narwhal through a lava lamp, folding socks into sentient geometric horrors, and eating celestial bodies while managing soul inventory?