A voice narrates your actions only when you do something incredibly average. What’s the most recent line?

There’s a door in your house you’ve never noticed before. You open it and find… what?

If you had to declare emotional bankruptcy, what paperwork do you think that involves?

Someone points at your shoes and says, “Ah. So you’ve chosen the path of the damp frog.” How do you respond?

Every light switch you touch today changes something, but not the lights. What’s the weirdest change you’ve noticed?

A bag of marbles is delivered to your home with no note. You instinctively feel like you owe them something. What is it?

What’s the weirdest thing you could confidently pretend is a family heirloom?

You have 6 minutes to convince a crowd of confused strangers that you’re an expert on “invisible geography.” What’s your opening line?

You are legally required to carry a brick named Kevin. You must introduce it at all social gatherings. How do you make it interesting?

You suddenly become allergic to stairs. What’s your new way of getting places?

A stranger insists you were once a professional ladder impersonator. They have photos. Do you deny it?

You find a notebook with nothing inside except the sentence “Stop feeding it names.” What do you do next?

You are being followed by someone dressed exactly like you, but slightly older and more disappointed. How do you throw them off?

You now generate static electricity every time you remember a cringey memory. How long until you black out your house?

You wake up and everyone you know refers to you only as “The Moist Herald.” No one explains. How do you live with this?

If you had to replace your handshake with something new forever, what’s the worst possible option you’d still actually do?

You’ve been selected to judge the International Championship of Silent Screaming. What are your criteria?

Your socks are always slightly damp but never wet. What crime did you commit in a past life to deserve this?

You can only wear shirts that are slightly too aggressive. What does yours say in large red letters?

A stranger locks eyes with you, hands you a single key, and vanishes. What object in your house does it unlock?

You are forced to replace all social greetings with bird facts. What’s your go-to line?

A legally binding document arrives in the mail declaring you the godparent of a sentient fog. What’s your first act of mentorship?

The next time you hiccup, it echoes twice. A man across the street nods solemnly. What do you know now?

A government agency contacts you to inform you your thoughts have been “leaking into nearby vending machines.” How do you apologize?

You gain the ability to win every argument, but only while loudly reciting the alphabet backward. Do you use it?