Where were we? Oh, here.
For just a moment there. . . .
Okay, contestants, whomever gets
closest without going over doesn’t
have to spontaneously combust:
What hour is the golden hour?
How about next full moon, you
and me dive into the gorgeous
ness that is the Grand Canyon?
No parachutes!
This one is multiple choice, so
to speak. But it’s also first
come, first served, only one
contestant per hole. Ready?
Quickly, jump into the rabbit
hole you think isn’t filled with
liquid magma! Don’t forget,
only one player per hole. And
there’s only one hole that isn’t—
ouch! that had to hurt!—filled
with molten lava. Also, last
person standing gets electrocuted.
Alright, have any one of you here
ever been frostbitten? Show of
hands? I see, I see, it looks like
about a half a dozen of you. Ok,
all at once, press the button at
the elbow end of your right arm
rest [staccato’d screams shoot
from the audience]. Ooh, that
had to smart. We’ve been work
ing on an electric chair alternative
that freezes the bones instantly
rather than fries the victim to
death. Attention! Attention!
Mandatory breakfast in the
commons. We’ve got our
best, freshly squeezed,
rotten eggs (a sprinkle
of charcoal dust costs
extra, while supplies
last!). Guilty pleasure
at every twist and turn,
I tell you. But, honey,
come here. Do you
realize that everytime
you walk through the
spotlight, your skin gets
translucent and you glow
the color of key lime pie?
Oy, have I gained weight.
It’s a—this is—I’m standing
on a—on a WHAT? On a
Geiger Counter??!
