The Reader's Request Book [REQUESTS CLOSED]

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"Well, this isn't what I ordered," the ginger-haired, green-eyed Englishman grumbled in annoyance, dropping the opened Amazon packaging to the ground as he held a pair of pink cat collars, each equipped with a quick-release clip, fake jewels, and a small silver bell, in one hand. Having been sitting beside him on the sofa, Loki – a green-eyed, black cat – padded onto Baz's lap so that he could inspect the new objects, mouth slightly parted as he took in the strong smell of plastic. "I swear I brought the green ones... I thought it'd look cute if they matched your and Gizmo's eyes," the Englishman explained to the curious feline, gently scratching the spot between his ears to elicit a little, "Mrrrp!" in response. "What do you think, lil' man? Think this would look good on you?" Baz asked the cat with a little smirk, finding the concept of his two male cats wearing glittery pink collars somewhat amusing. As if sensing that he was being made fun of, Loki gave his human a rather unamused look, jumping down to the ground before trotting away. "Yeah, me neither," Baz chuckled, before standing up with a sigh. "Guess I'll get the tape to repackage th... WOAH!"

The Englishman lost his footing, for a moment believing that he had somehow slipped on the rug that lined the centre of the floor in his living room, and therefore was seconds away from smacking his head into his coffee table.

However, the truth was Baz hadn't lost his footing. No, there was nothing for him to put his foot on, at least nothing solid.

Baz had fallen through the floor.

For a brief moment that lasted no more than a blink, Baz's vision went dark while his body filled with a sudden burst of tingly, prickly sensations like pins and needles. Soon enough, the Englishman's senses returned to normal, just in time for him to feel himself hitting something soft and cushiony. "What the f*ck...?" Baz murmured with surprise, quickly pushing himself up from the fuchsia-coloured bed he had somehow landed on, head whipping around to take in his new, completely unfamiliar surroundings. "What the f*ck?" he asked again, eyes widening and nigh-on non-existent eyebrows raising as the shock turned to confusion. Getting himself into a sitting position, Baz stared up at the ceiling just in time to see two cat collars slip through the solid structure. The bells on either collar rang with quiet, high-pitched dings as they smacked the bewildered Englishman in the face, the impact strangely painful for such small objects. With a slight grunt, Baz reached up to rub the bridge of his stinging nose, looking back up to the ceiling before returning his gaze to the collars. "What the f*ck!?" this time he shouted, snatching the collars up in one hand as he stared almost accusingly at the roof. "What the f*ck!?" the Englishman now exclaimed, getting off the bed to avoid anything else falling on his head, half expecting Loki to suddenly fall into the room too. "This... this is... what the f*ck...?" he couldn't think of anything else to say.

There were dozens of other questions that he should have been asking, such as, "Where am I?" "What happened?" "How did I fall through the floor?" "How do I get back?" or "What do I do now?" but the shock of the situation was rendering him stunned. It wasn't every day that physics simply decided to take a sabbatical from reality, yet here he was, in much need of many answers, as well as a trip to Sweden to get a Nobel prize for breaking the laws of science. Pocketing the two cat collars, because lord knows he wasn't going to let a supernatural occurrence starve him of his £9.99 refund, Baz glanced around the bedroom.

Pink.

Pink everywhere.

The colour was so overabundant and overbearing, found on, in and with every part of the room. The carpet, the rug, the bed frame, the bed sheets, the pillows, the walls, the curtains, the desk, the chair, the decorations... even the lightbulb was glowing a pale pink instead of a standard cool blue or warm white. "Hello?" Baz called out, before mentally kicking himself for doing what every horror movie side-character did before getting killed off. Shutting himself up, the Englishman listened out for any sounds of movement or signs of life coming from elsewhere in whatever building he had managed to find himself in, only to be met with a silence that he couldn't decide was comforting or disturbing. Would it have been better or worse to be given a response? He supposed that depended on exactly what the response was...