Carefully wandering through the front door, you're immediately taken aback by the immense selection. While the store had looked fairly small on the outside, the inside is a massive warehouse-like room filled with rows upon rows of joke wares. Oddly enough, the merchandise seems to get stranger and more exotic as you swoop from left to right: in the aisles farthest to the left, you can see the old standby jokes like whoopee cushions and water-squirting flowers, but as you move towards the right you start seeing bottles filled with strange liquids, mundane objects like clothing that don't even look like joke materials, and books and complex devices. At first glance, it looks almost as though every practical joke in existence is sold somewhere in this store (and maybe even a few that don't exist anywhere else).
Pulling yourself back together, you remember that your goal is to find someone who could help you make your way out of here, not to gawk slack-jawed at a bunch of trinkets and doohickeys. You call out for anyone who might be tending to or shopping in the store's cavernous depths, but are met only with silence. Tracing your eyes across the shop once again, this time paying particular attention to the space between the shelves instead of the stuff on them, you seek any sign of someone else, but you don't see anything. In fact, it's starting to look like the place is completely empty, aside from your being there. If someone is here, they're probably hidden somewhere within the mazelike depths of the store's many aisles, and it'd probably be in your best interests to look for them in there somewhere. And, of course, you could probably do a bit of window shopping while you're at it (after all, it's not every day that you have access to such an immense repertoire of jokes and pranks that you could use on your family).