Oh, this used to happen all the time. Coffee was the crack of the 50s, apparently. Mothers would turn into hideous witches, twitchy and snippy creatures who pecked their children until they trudged out into the cold to join the circus, or live in the jungle. This child, in anticipation of his circus career, appears to have painted his face with clown eyes.
Meanwhile, back home, Dad - who has lovely fingers, don’t you think? - has enough baggage under his eyes to hint that he’s been nailing the bean pretty badly too.
But nevermind that. We’ve another question:
Mr. Coffee Nerves?
What the hell is he supposed to be? An invisible guy with a jet-powered backpack who has nothing better to do than hope that the cumulative effect of coffee consumption breaks up families? Wouldn’t it be easier just to have sex with these people while they’re asleep, and let them worry that they’ve become demonically possessed?
And who would Mr. Coffee Nerves prefer to have sex with? It’ll be clear as we go along.