Your name is unimportant. But then most things about you are unimportant. You're a regular person, with a normal job an average community college education, and I'd tell you about the rest of your life as well, but I've run out of synonyms for "Normal".
Your community college associates degree has managed to land you a job in an office building sitting in a cubical doing paper work, submitting it to someone and for all you know gets used to line some executive's bird cage. Truth be told you don't even know what the company you work for really does. All you know it you have a cubical, access to free coffee, a discount card for the cafeteria in your building which comes in handy because someone kept stealing your lunch when you used to bring it in.
But if things were going to remain so regular and unchanged then there would be precious little point in telling any of you about it, would there? Thus it's the start of another average day where you wake up particularly late. It's 8:30 am, a full thirty minutes past when you were supposed to be in your cubical working when your regular-sized car squeezes into a parking space marked "compact" and you briskly walk into the office. You rocket past one of the cubicles where an antromorphic sloth sits. You stop. You look back at the half-human, half sloth thing at the office.
He sits there not working. Not particularly odd for the regular occupant of that cubical, but in this case he's looking at his claws and the keyboard and apparently trying to work out how to use a keyboard with claws. Looking closely you notice the same cheesy red tie with the green reindeer on it that your workmate Mitch always wears on into mid-January.
"Mitch?" you ask tentatively.
"Hey." Mitch says absently. You pause. You're sure of what you're seeing, but you've...well you experimented with certain illegal substances that have been known to cause hallucinations at a party. While that was more then two years ago and you didn't have that much it would be a better explanation for what's going on then what your eyes are telling you is going on.
"Feelin' alright?" you ask.
"No, I'm a sloth." he says stilling trying to work the keyboard. "Been one since this morning. It's a real pain because I can't update my facebook page if I can't figure out the keyboard."
"How did you become a sloth?" You say freaking out a little.
"Dunno...the coffee probably. I wasn't a sloth 'til I drank it." Mitch says. You decide to let the rest of your questions go. Speaking of going, you decide to do that as well. You walk briskly back to the office door and try to open it. It's locked. You shake the door at first then pound and kick at it. It fails to yeild to your efforts.
"Don't bother," Mitch says "we've all tried. All of the exits are locked, including the emergency exits. Don't worry, though, when you turn it's terrifying at first. But after a while you kinda grow numb to it. Some of us actually kinda like it." Mitch tells you.
It's then when your boss Frieda quite literally comes flying at you. At first all you see is a green blur. It's no until she perches on the top of Mitch's cubical wall that you see that she is a parrot. Not an anthromorphic one like Mitch's sloth form, but a regular sized parrot. The squawking voice gives it away that it is indeed her. She yells at you for being late, and for trying to leave early. It all sort of runs together actually. When she tells you to get back to your cubical you do so, but more because it's the only place you feel safe. You sit at your office chair pondering what do to.