Before you can decide upon a course of action, a noise which vaguely sounds like footsteps upon tile reaches your ears, coming from the cellar. Thinking someone has heard your knocking, you step toward the open cellar door to greet them. Unfortunately, what emerges is not the homeowner, but a very large, very unfriendly looking dog. Frozen in surprise for a moment, you are only spurred to action when the dog takes one look at you and instantly lunges forward with a growl. Running faster than you ever have in your life, you cross the yard at record speeds and handily vault the metal fence into the front yard. Looking back, you smile at the dog in triumph until you realize that he holds one of your shoes in his mouth, apparently having gotten far closer to catching you than you are comfortable with.
Not wanting to hang around while the dog silently gloats over the change in ownership of your footwear, you walk out through the yard and onto the sidewalk. Looking around, you find nothing out of the ordinary in regard to the pleasant, suburban neighborhood you find yourself situated in, other than the fact that it is totally unfamiliar. With a sigh, you sit down on the curb and ponder your options. Lost and only in possession of one shoe, it's obvious that you won't get very far on your own. You could ask one of the local homeowners if you could use their phone to call a friend or maybe a cab, but would anybody in their right mind let somebody with one shoe who looks like he's been traipsing about in the woods all day into their house? It might be better to flag down a motorist and get directions to a gas station or perhaps even a ride home, but then again, didn't your mother always tell you that serial killers are the only ones who'll offer to give hitchhikers a lift?