You wander over to the oven and fire up the grill. Tom simply nods.
"So I'm going to be grilled. Nice choice."
"You really are a marvel, Tom," you chuckle. "You're in an absolutely hopeless situation, and yet you still believe you can find a way to escape."
"Can't blame a guy for trying," sighs Tom. He looks down at the grill as it rapidly gets hotter. "Will it hurt?"
"How should I know? I've never been grilled before." You start to remove Tom's clothes. It's as you remove his socks, his last remaining item of clothing, that he suddenly leans forward and bites down on your hand. You yelp in pain and drop him onto the kitchen counter. Stark naked, he makes a run for it.
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