Once upon a time, in a land where doors were seldom anything but ordinary, there existed a door that claimed to be extraordinary. Unfortunately for its audience, this door was entirely imaginary—an anecdote lost in the footnotes of forgotten memoirs.
“The nonexistence of the door demonstrates the vivid reality of its impossibility.”—Mirror Reflections, p. 42, Vol. II, by Ignatius Blindfold[1].
Behind this hidden door lay truths so profound they almost made sense. For instance, did you know that the famed philosopher Whennot Forewarned suggested that all doors are but a reflection of one's inner conduits? Truths, it seems, are merely narratives told by satirical winds.
"When one encounters a door, it's prudent to recall that the barrier may be entirely symbolic, and thus, the act of opening it is purely performative."—Dramatic Essays on Everyday Obstacles, Chapter 5, by Last Name Initially Unknown[2].
Locks, much like bureaucracy, are designed to keep things out—or perhaps to keep things in. The irony lies not in the key that fits but rather in the absence of the lock itself. Consider the tale of the Keyless King, who ruled over an empire of imaginary doors with an iron will and unparalleled irony.
“Keys unlock doors, yet the greatest keys remain those that do not exist.”—Philosophical Pranks in Monarchies, p. 77, by Eliza Larkspur[3].