There is a door next to the front door of your house. Outside there is only one, but inside there are two. While one leads to the outside world, the other leads to a confusingly bizzare alternate dimension. It's a funny trick to play on guests.
"Oh, no, that's the closet," lie to the Preacher as he reaches for the real door. He'll apologize quietly and step through the other door. He won't immediately understand that he isn't in the Regular World anymore. He'll stop at the melting mailbox and wave to you, smiling. You'll wave and smile back. He'll make his way down the sidewalk not yet realizing that the trees are spinning slowly around and around.
That night you'll be awoken by his distant, echoing screams. "Stop! I understand the irony! I'll change! I can change! Leave me alone! No! No!" He trails off with hysterical sobbing.
You smile and roll over in your big comfy bed. "I love you, Alternate Dimension," you'll think before falling soundly asleep.
It isn't cheap having one of those doors installed, but it's always been a dream of yours. Ever since you became a big shot in the entertainment industry, you've really tricked out your house. There's a ball-pit room, a hamster-tube maze big enough to fit you and your obese friends, the dining room with lush grass growing where the carpet should be, instead of a refrigerator you have a hamburger vending machine, and of course, the trick front door. The place may have a funny dead-body smell during the summer and terrible plumbing problems, but it's your dream home and you love it.
When the cops come, tell them the preacher left last week. They ask to look around, and when they don't find anything, tell them, "No, that door goes to the basement. That one's the way out."