So this is N.A. Albertson reporting to you from the pit! I seem to have been kidnapped from my regular life of positivity and light (ha ha, who am I kidding) and thrown down on this pit of despair and anxiety. It seems to be a deep well and I have no idea how to escape! I'm scared, and I want my mommy! However, will I get out?

Oh wait, there seems to be a man at the top of all of this.

“Hey, hey, Mister! Can you help me?”

He isn't responding, only lowering a basket with an uncovered flickering light bulb illuminating its' mysterious contents.

“Whatever could be inside,” I wonder out loud to y'all as the basket comes closer and closer.

Now close enough to reach I grab it in my hands, pulling it close to find... lotion? I look up confused...

“It rubs the lotion on its' skin or else it gets the hose,” he replies to my questioning countenance.

“I don't know what you mean,” I say just before getting blasted in the face with cold water. The hosing sends me flying to the edge of the pit where the water mixed with dirt becomes mud and I slip, landing on my coccyx.

I scream, “Ok, ok! Fine!” at the shady figure looming above me. I lurch out, still blinded by pain and fumble along the mud floor for the basket. I again pull the basket close to me and when my eyes come into focus I grasp the lotion he's presented to me.

It's Cetaphil Moisturizing Cream for Dry, Sensitive Skin

I finally get it. I must have been snatched up to help rehabilitate my skin! #SKINTERVENTION, because I have perpetually dry skin. I'm basically a snake who leaves their skin behind in sheets, and this kind gentleman has brought me here for an upgrade! The hose also makes perfect sense! I've heard tell that one is supposed to moisturize right out of the shower, something I don't normally do because I dick around too much. This man merely means skin business and I am his skin pupil!

This lotion is smooth and creamy, and since it's non-comedogenic it doesn't clog pores into oblivion! I rub in all over, and into every crevice allowing the moisture to soak into my dry, itchy, flakey skin. It feels so, so, so, so good.

As if sensing my skin has been quenched of its thirst he shouts down, "Now it places the lotion in the basket."

Unquestioningly I put the lotion back in the basket. He begins to reel it back to him.

“Thanks Mister! I think I'm cured. Can I go home now?” I yell up, the “now” echoing hollowly as the walls close around me, the light disappearing up with the basket. No need for SPF down here I guess. Well played. The light lines the bricks above my head as it's pulled up. I follow it to avoid the encompassing darkness and notice something strange etched into the wall.

It looks like claw marks... and is that... oh, oh god, oh GOD NO!!! Is that a badly manicured fingernail?