I make myself scarce when you get hyper off caffeine, cause you become a Fury, running around in evil glee, giggling wickedly at whim and all ready to engulf people's attention with your antics. With no conscience except coffee to guide you or tug at your good sense, you are unable to sit still on my sofa and I regret having invited you over for a quiet cuppa with some of my friends. My living room is your realm as you skip around with cappuccino-induced joy, and your high-pitched laugh is starting to strain my good humor.