Zosia, a third-year sociology student, had no idea that an ordinary evening with pizza and Netflix could suddenly turn into something that would turn her concept of reality upside down. All it took was one inconspicuous notice pasted on the stairwell door: "Whoever finds the slipper club - never come back barefoot!". At first she thought it was a silly joke, but she was intrigued by the hand-drawn picture of green slippers with eyes and moustaches. An hour later, somewhat bored with studying for the session, she slipped out of the flat in her fuchsia slippers and began to look out her neighbours' door for anything suspicious. After a while, she heard a familiar tune coming from around the corner-but it was twisted, as if someone had played 'Barca' backwards on a walkman. Having sniffed out a clue (or rather a slipper), Zosia turned into the basement. The door swung open slightly. Inside, coloured lights flashed and an elderly lady in a dressing gown stood behind the makeshift bar, mixing an energy drink with a quaff. The Mystery Slippers Club was bustling with activity: one guest was racing on racing bamboos, someone else was trying to dance the lambada in fish-shaped slippers. The most shocking thing, however, was that the slippers... were talking. And not in whispers. One of Zosia's slippers said: "Well, at last! You've been supposed to get us here for a month now, you know!". Zosia was completely at a loss as to whether this was due to the music, the atmosphere or whether those chips in her room were out of date after all. She didn't even have time to reply when the lights suddenly went out. A quiet, excited whisper rang out in the darkness: "Shh... The real surprise is about to begin..."