Starting to think normal's a myth

A little light somewhere, or a speaker, or whatever it may be, grinds its way through my skin, bores a hole through my skull. Are my teeth sensitive again? Am I cold? No, just something in the break room. I annoyedly make my way there, and twist the rusted knob. A horrid creak sounds from the weary little hinges as it opens, revealing a dark and somewhat humid system of pipes in a gritty room. Windowless, lightless little paradise for roaches and rats... I trudge on through the shadows, the stupid sound grinding into my ears more and more strongly with each step.

Sounds of merry clinking fill the air, and I stop with shock. The roaches and rats have been having a tea party, and someone left the kettle on!