At last you can see the room. It’s all pillows and drapes and suspicious stains and burnt out candles and floral patterns and goat testicles.
Aaaugh, must get out must get out. You flounder about the bed, but holy smokes, the bed! It has no edge! The whole damn room is one giant bed and you’re drowning in throw pillows and 10,000 thread count sheets! It is a bog! A terrible bed bog!
“Please don’t spill the porridge on Miss Henry’s sheets,” the ButlerBot says.
a. Throw the damn parsley porridge at the ButlerBot, throw the pillow at the ButlerBot, throw yourself at the ButlerBot, etc.
b. Calm down, be reasonable(ish), request your clothes and a taxi. Quickly. NOW.