"Mania"

A short story, AKA the fictional case study in my old psychology textbook:

Larry has been high as a kite for two weeks, and he loves it. He is on top of the world. His plan is to reorganize the United Nations so that he can eliminate war and world hunger. He has written out his plans during the night, when others are sleeping. The night, in many ways, is the best part of the day for Larry; that's when he can get all of his ideas down on paper. There are fewer distractions, and his pen practically flies off the paper. Occasionally, his inspiration almost seems divine, and he has to tell someone. Like last night he called a friend, at least a former friend, and tried to tell him about his plans for eliminating war. Larry wouldn't let him interrupt or get a word in, so he hung up. Larry flew into a rage. He kicked down the door, and started running, running to his friend's house. It didn't matter that it was two states over. He figured he should be able to get there by 6 A.M., and then back for his noon appointment with the local paper. Larry plans to get his ideas published in the paper.

Larry only ran a couple of blocks before his super marathon was diverted. He saw two stray dogs eating from a garbage can. After rounding up those two dogs, he spent the rest of the night chasing down stray dogs and cats and putting them in his apartment. They would be the first inhabitants of the animal shelter he would build outside the city this weekend.

At daylight, Larry decided to stop chasing dogs. He wanted to get a shower and breakfast before going to the paper. At the diner, Larry started talking to the man sitting next to him at the counter. Larry's speech was just being pushed out of him. His ideas were pushing his speech out, faster and faster; he was really "on." The guy next to him was getting a little nervous and looking for some place else to sit when Larry decided to buy everyone breakfast. He caught the waitress's eye, and she came over. Larry then hopped over the counter, pulled her in close with his arm around her waist and announced to the diner, "Folks, I am buying you all breakfast. It's on me, and the tip, little lady, that's something special -- you get me. I am taking you to Vegas for the time of your life." That's when the cook called the police.

This has possibilities.