Unresponsive

Tripping into the house, I banged my head on the oven, then the refrigerator, then the chandelier, then the ocean. I wondered why an ocean was in my dining room, taking up way too much space. The squids and sharks poked their heads or tentacles from the water, saw me, and attempted to eat me. I ran toward the living room, where a jungle had popped up, spreading out into the backyard. Pythons and tigers spotted me right away and slithered and stalked toward my shaking body. That's when a great idea burst in my head. I stepped out of my skin and looked for the stairway to heaven. A bunch of people stood below it, as if waiting for someone to show them the way. They said, "I wonder if we're supposed to go up there. It's not polite to go somewhere uninvited." Heavy metal music played when I ascended the stairs, everyone below me shaking their heads, thinking I was a goner. How wrong. St. Peter slapped me on the back, showed me the globe I'd be running. A little more administration work than I was used to, setting this side against the other, popping souls in and out, but I'd manage. I peeked down and saw that the paramedics in my house had failed. The person they'd tried to help was unresponsive, lifeless, gone.