"Before I started writing this book, I had so many worlds filled with different characters of all shapes, sizes, colors, species, etc. in these thousands of environments all crammed inside of my head. It gave me a headache just thinking about it all. I literally thought my head was going to explode! So I had to find some way to release these characters from the prison of my mind. I did that, and it took three whole planets just to fit them all. I had my Martians on the red planet, Mars, my talking apes on a replica of Earth, and everyone else on another Earth-like planet called "Dementia". But if you were to look at Dementia from a telescope, the outer layer would be covered in black and white stripes. After a while, things got incredibly hostile between the planets and that's where my story begins…"

This was the prologue to a book Alice had just taken off the science fiction section of her local library. She had been reading in one of the private study booths, where the only light source was a tiny chromed desk lamp, and the one thing standing between her and reality was a soundproof glass door.

Earlier, she had been browsing the science fiction section, looking for the latest alien thriller. She pulled a hair tie out of her cargo pants pocket and attempted to tie her long, thick, chestnut hair in a ponytail. But alas, the small dollar store hair tie couldn't contain her hair, only to be snapped in half. Alice bent down to pick up the remains of the cheap hair tie, only to find a hidden book behind the Star Trek chapter book collection. She pulled the it out from behind the books and stared in awe as she slowly got off her knees, not taking her eyes off the book once.

The book was fairly thick with a hard cover that was decorated with black and white stripes. On the front cover, "War of the World: Dementia by Tim Burton", was written in gold lettering. With one hand, Alice quickly wiped the lenses of her glasses with the end of her maroon t-shirt and placed them back on her face to make sure her vision wasn't foggy. But it was perfectly clear. And now here she was, fiddling with her hair, trying to comprehend what her idol was thinking when he wrote this paragraph.

Has he finally gone off his rocker? she thought to herself.

Or is this what he wants me to think? Was it his intention to make himself sound a bit…loopy?

The only way for her to find out was to turn the page to chapter one…