"It's heading for the elevator, Buzz. The explosives are in the tower, all right."
The ride down the antique elevator to the thirteenth floor gave Buzz a chance to admire his partner, and the woman, provided the Marriage Bureau approved, who would one day be his Nuptial Associate. Her long blonde tresses, done up in the fashionable spiral galaxy coiffure, framed the oval nebula of her face. Two meteorites of variscite sparkled back at him above lips that resembled the graceful wings of zero gravity gliders. He wasn't crazy about the lime green lipstick though. Anything that reminded him of fructose made him feel nervous.
Once out of the elevator, the beagle zoomed down the corridor of the thirteenth floor and screeched to a stop. The eyes of the little bloodhound had turned crimson and were trained on a door that said in bold black letters-- BROOM CLOSET. Ginger placed her hand on the latch.
"Wait!" Buzz placed a glove with silver fringe over Ginger's ebony polished nails. "Something's very wrong with this whole scenario. First of all, this is the thirteenth floor. But this can't be the thirteenth floor, since people back in the 19th century were superstitious about things like that. There isn't a thirteenth floor, Ginger."
"Then I suppose we're hallucinating."
"That's precisely what I mean. What if the evil genius of Moriarity has somehow contrived to doctor our minds, to invent all of this as a seamless, consistent, entirely logical hallucination that's so real we can't tell it from reality."