The man screamed with pain emanating from deep within his stomach, his stomach that churned and churned and writhed with fire that the only hope of quelching is by yelling like an asshole. Yelling and disturbing the sleeping children.
He runs up and down the street, ripping his clothes off, smashing his hands into mailboxes and making a ruckus. The neighbors look out their windows and wonder what's going on, but they don't try to help. They know those screams, they are the ruckus of a man in the throes of inconsolable pain. He can smash their mailboxes with his hands all he wants, if it will only help. Neighborly prayers are sent his way via Heaven.
He finds a cute thing in the street. A thing so cute and beautiful that he stops his yelling for a moment. His pain is still there, but it lies dormant as this most wonderful of life beings stares up at him with grace and magnificence.
But soon he starts yelling again, he can't seem to help it. And with only his screaming and his ruckus and all the pain pouring forth, he breaks the cute little. Right in half.