I have awakened in a bed that is not mine, in a world that is unfamiliar to me. All I have in my possession is a map of Disneyland and a pack of cigarettes that have never existed apparently. I found this computer next to the bed, and the door is locked. I remember nothing from before this, except faint traces of a glowing bunny rabbit.

I have discovered that I can levitate myself off the floor, fold up into a square of precisely four by four and three score millimeters, bark like a sheep, and communication with the formicidae has never been simpler. Maybe someday they shall tell me why I have found myself in such a conundrum.