How a freak gas cloud took me for the ride of my life.
I am a sanitary technician, or a dishwasher, if you want to be a dick about it. I work at a well known resturant in the town that I live in. This restaurant is the dirtiest, hottest place I have ever been in my life(see photo). 
When I come home, my shower says, "woah, woah woah, no need to do something crazy. Go use the garden hose, bitch" My job is to make everything clean, and in the process, I make myself dirty. dirty is a mild way to put it. You know how when you are in the shower, and you squeeze the soap, it flies out of your hand. (insert soap dropping joke here, it's inevitable) That is me after working for my usual shift of 9 hours. But! focusing back on the story at hand.... In any given kitchen, there will be a variety of chemicals. Today, i was carving black death off of a pan onto which a chef had seared something that was apparently living at one point, but now was very, undeniably dead, and had taken on roughly the consistency of newly formed volcanic rock. My tools for doing this were: scrubbing bubbles, Misty kitchen spray, and a metal mesh scrubbie. I layed out a preliminary layer of scrubbing bubbles, just to get everything loosened up.
Next I sprayed a layer of "misty kitchen spray" which I had never used before, but looked effective. This tecnique is very common among sanitary technicians. We experiment with different combinations of chemicals, making cleaning product cocktails, in the relentless search for something that gets that last little black streak out from the corner of the pan. Immediately after spraying the "misty kitchen spray", I noticed something was no longer right. I was now, apparently, in a room with walls that moved ever so slightly, but moved none the less, in sync with the great Clay Aiken (omg) song that was playing on the stereo. As i examined the rest of the room, I was greeted by even more strangeries that I had noticed previously. Some of them being Clifford, the big red dog, a refrigerator that was spraying plates, and a scientist named Dr. Gloria Peppers (PHd). Ms. Peppers informed me that I would soon be departing on my journey. She went on to repeatedly assure me that the steak knives (or is it steaknives, oh well) would no longer get in tussles with the rest of the utensils in the silverware bin. Now I know what you are thinking. That doesn't make sense at all Jack! Well quite the contrary Newschoolers.com, quite the contrary indeed. Dr. Peppers (PHd) went on to explain to me why the steak knives have a malevolent history, and it seemed very understandable. While Dr. Peppers (PHd) was explaining the silverwars to a fascinated, but oblivious dweezil, Clifford and the refrigerator were loading me into the dishmachine. They slammed the door, and Dr. Gloria Peppers (PHd) bid farewell. The machine started, and I began my journey into the unknown.
What followed was a series of lectures, from various people, and even a few inanimate objects. They explained to me the meaning of the universe, a revised quantum theory, how the combination of scrubbing bubbles, and "misty kitchen spray" created a toxic cloud of gas that facilitated this hallucination, and why it is imperative that I eat my vegatables. Now readers, I was exposed to information that is very sensitive, and I have vowed not to divulge any specifics of what I learned today, lest we have another pandora's box incident (they said they knew they couldnt trust that rat bastard from the beginning). Before my hallucination ended, I was introduced to a man, who spoke from the shadows, and refused to tell me his name. He simply handed me a piece of paper, and said, "My son, you have proven yourself worthy to bear this information back to earth, after your miraculous survival of the scrubbing bubbles and "misty cooking spray" toxic gas cloud incident. And now i have for you newschoolers, a picture of the paper that was handed to me. You are the best and brightest, and therefore are charged with trying to decifer what this paper means.
When i returned from my journey, i looked at every herpes infested, dirty whore of a waitress, and every cocaine addict of a chef, and told them to make sure the steak knives stayed separated from the rest of the silverware.
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