You unbutton your shirt and drop it to the ground. You raise your right arm and flex your bicep fiercely. You notice the friendly calm that just a moment ago had been in Hal's eyes has turned to a clouded fire of determination. He too removes his shirt and flexes. Not a word is spoken, as the ritual seems perfectly natural. You grunt and gesture towards a large boulder. As he hoists it above his head, Hal lets out a howl that sends the birds squawking from the trees. It is your turn. You can feel the veins in your neck pop out to ghastly proportions as you grunt like an old timer in the outhouse. The dense humidity makes you sweat profusely and you suddenly become aware of how slippery the boulder has become. You struggle valiantly to lift it over your head, but you stumble backwards and the giant rock lands squarely on your shin.
You scream like a banshee when you see a bone protruding through your skin. Through the tears in your eyes, you see Hal smiling over you. "Tough luck old bean. It looks like the day is mine." Without another word, he turns and grabs the statue of the enchanted corybungus and trudges off into the underbrush as you curse him, his family, and his avid interest in water polo. You lie on the ground crippled.
You:
a) Pray to Jesus
b) Take the cyanide pill
c) Call for help
d) Concentrate