So there I was, riding a unicycle made of cheese down the rainbow highway, when suddenly a squirrel in a top hat yells, “Oi, you forgot your spatula!” I turn around and there’s a walrus juggling jellybeans while reciting Shakespeare. Naturally, I hop off the cheese unicycle and dive into a puddle of whipped cream, which transports me to a disco where all the dancers are sentient cucumbers. I join in, doing the cucumber cha-cha, when out of nowhere, a giant goldfish in a tuxedo hands me a banana phone. “It’s for you,” he says. I answer, and it’s the Queen of England inviting me to a tea party with Elvis and Bigfoot. We sip our tea out of teacups made of cotton candy, and just as Bigfoot starts his stand-up comedy routine, a spaceship piloted by a kangaroo crash-lands on the table. The kangaroo hops out and says, “Sorry, wrong dimension,” and zips away, leaving behind a trail of glitter. And that’s when I realized I still hadn’t paid my parking meter back on Earth.