"What are the odds?"
In studio Abby sits across from me, our desks are separated by a pair of fairly high bulletin boards. I can't remember where the centipede came from, but we've taken to tossing it each other over the bulletin boards. It always comes as a surprise and we never acknowledge that the other has tossed it. Except one time when Abby stepped around the corner of my desk holding a knife of peanut butter in one hand and the centipede in the other the only thing she had to ask was, "What are the odds?"
Now the centipede has peanut butter stuck between his legs.
Now the centipede has peanut butter stuck between his legs.