Holy Hunter S., man. Little goblins dressed up as children scream and run past you. A freaky nightmare snake coils around the balcony -- did you hear what he just said? The bathrooms have a coat of armor created from stainless steel, like, steam-table pans -- it's sooo smooooth, man -- and you can slide from the second floor if the stairs are freaking your shit. Dark, dank pathways twist tortuously under and through trees growing -- if you look closely, you can actually see them grow -- from the floors. Metal rods and concrete tunnels just may lead to, like, the seventh dimension, but only those goblins can squeeze through. Gray stone(d) lizards stare at you with unblinking eyes. You engage them in a staring contest. Somehow, you win. The floors are embedded with mosaic monsters, and the general air of "chaos" makes the interior of the City Museum difficult to "navigate" -- if that's what you call this. Proceed with the utmost care; you can just as easily find yourself in front of a funhouse mirror -- or maybe it's the eighth dimension -- as you can end up making your very own hat, which is really fun. All this you see before you decide to drop into acidland. Think about it.