Story... not so much, but read on

So, where did my cigarettes go? Front pocket? Nope. Back pocket? Oh great they're squished. Into tiny little square sticks of flammable cancer-inducing joy. Lighter. Ahh, sweet satisfaction. So, so, so this letter came in the mail this morning. Changed everything. It said... some things. Jesus. Now I don't know what I'm going to do. Essentially I'm screwed. I think that's all there is to it. Space robots. Mutant underground mole-cats. And keylime flavored ice cream. All trapped in my bathroom. And they wrote me a letter. To tell me so. Because I trapped them there. And the letter, the letter went something like this: "Yo bitch. Let us out of your bathroom. And click this. Now!. Signed: Space Robot #1, Space Robot #2, Space Robot #3, MC(Mole-Cat... geez) Cazizlle and the Toaster... er Ice Cream. Keylime ice cream no less."