The story started off 3 years ago and simultaneously 5 years in the future. There was a mailbox at the end of a street. The people who lived on this street were all pencil drawings of famous celebrities with the graphite suspended in midair. The celebrities never moved, but would sometimes smile at you, disappear for several seconds, and then reappear right behind you. Anyways, within this mailbox lived a family of scarecrows. The scarecrows were ghosts, and didn't look like scarecrows. They looked more like projections of farmers from a 1930s silent, black and white film. They never talked, but spent a lot of time churning butter and chopping up envelopes for firewood. One day the mailbox fell over. I was scared because this had never happened before. As I opened the mailbox to check inside, red blood spilled out. Once all the blood finished flowing, I tried looking inside again. The farmers weren't there. All I could see inside was a plastic replica doll of myself, crying and flailing around like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The crying stopped abruptly and the doll looked straight at me. It told me it wanted a mommy because it had been left under a washing machine at the dry cleaners. I tell the doll I will be its mommy from now on. Then I began gnawing its head off. I noticed I wasn't wearing the pair of socks I had put on earlier that day, so I began to search for them. After several days of no success, I stuck my face through one of the semi-transparent celebrities. Once my face breached the threshold, I could see a cartoon world filled with people wearing blankets over their heads. They carried red, glowing rods and had socks for ears. The blanket people stole my socks and I want them back. I walked down a road that bounced up and down as I walk along it. I had to confront the blanket people's leader if I wanted to ever retrive my stolen socks.
