Daisy Bateman

A situation in which I would be required to do a situp to save my life

(Int. dungeon. I am lying on a plank over a pool of hungry piranhas with my hands tied across my chest and a giant razor-sharp blade hanging over me.)
Sinister, Shadowy Figure: Unless you can reach the cord hanging over you and grab it with your teeth in the next three minutes, this blade will fall on you and you will die!
Me: Curses!
Shadowy, Sinister Figure: Bwahaha! Now, I’d love to stay and watch, but I have a mah jongg game that starts at three. Tootles!
Me: (trying to sit up) Ehn!
Me: (trying some more) Urk.
Me: (flopping around, trying to build up some momentum) huphuphup- urg!
Me: Come on stomach muscles, do your stuff!
(My stomach muscles do what stuff they can, raising my shoulders a full four inches off the ground.)
Giant, Razor-Sharp Blade: Shthunk.
(I die.)

See? That’s what I’m talking about.

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