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"Welcome back to Try Not To Laugh!" Shayne yelled to the camera, doing a dramatic, sweeping gesture with his arms. "Today, love is in the air. Or, well, desperate, awkward attempts at it. Welcome to the Pick-Up Lines Edition!"
"The classic rules still apply: you laugh, you spit the water, you lose," Ian chimed in, leaning against a light stand. "But the twist today is that every single bit has to be a pick-up line. The cheesier, the smoother, the more utterly unhinged, the better."
"And," Shayne added with a grin, "if you can make the person in the hot seat genuinely blush before they spit their water everywhere, you get bonus points."
As the cast began to clear the set, shuffling off to take their places behind the room dividers, Amanda’s voice echoed off-camera. "I am already dreading this."
—
The water in Amanda’s cheeks was already lukewarm, and the studio lights were beating down on her. She stared straight ahead at the camera, trying to empty her mind. She was the final person in the hot seat today, and she had already survived three excruciatingly cheesy pick-up lines from Ian, Shayne, and Courtney. Her jaw was starting to ache from keeping her lips sealed, with only Angela and Arasha left to go.
The buzzer blared, loud and obnoxious, echoing through the studio.
Amanda braced herself. Usually, when Angela was up, it meant chaos. It meant screaming, a bizarre prop, or some ridiculous physical comedy that would force Amanda to spit within three seconds.
Instead, Angela strolled out from behind the room divider with nonchalance. She wasn't wearing a weird wig. She wasn't holding a rubber chicken. No, she just had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, her dark eyes locked onto Amanda with laser focus.
Amanda’s brow furrowed. Oh no. Calm Angela was so much worse than loud Angela.
Angela dragged a wooden stool into the center of the set, flipped it around, and straddled it. She leaned her arms on the backrest, bringing her face entirely too close to Amanda's.
"Okay," Angela said. Her voice was level, almost conversational. "Quick question. Gun to your head."
Amanda kept her lips pressed tight around the water, but her eyes darted to the side, looking for help from Shayne or Ian. Neither offered any. Shayne was already leaning in, watching like a hawk.
"Which one do you prefer," Angela continued, her gaze unwavering, "a baby goat... or a matter baby?"
Silence stretched across the studio.
Amanda stared. She ran the words back through her head.
A baby goat. Okay, cute. Or... a matter baby... What on earth was a matter baby?
Was it a science thing? Like dark matter? Or was it some weird Gen-Z internet slang she had missed out on?
The confusion was burning a hole in her brain. She couldn't take it. She had completely forgotten the theme of the episode. She needed to know.
Defeating the entire mechanical purpose of the game, Amanda swallowed the mouthful of water. It went down with an audible gulp.
Off-camera, Courtney gasped quietly, realizing Amanda had just willingly disarmed herself of her spit-take ammo.
"A... wait," Amanda said, her voice a little raspy. She waved a hand between them. "Hold on. Sorry, I swallowed. I had to."
Angela didn't break character. She just tilted her head slightly, waiting. "It's a simple question, Amanda. A baby goat, or a matter baby. You have to choose."
"No, I literally don't know what the second one is," Amanda insisted, her face scrunching up in genuine, frustrated curiosity. She leaned in just a fraction of an inch. "What's a matter baby?"
The trap snapped shut.
The intense, deadpan focus completely vanished from Angela’s face. The harsh lines of her expression melted into something alarmingly soft. She leaned in, closing the final bit of distance between them, and looked up at Amanda through her eyelashes.
When she spoke, her voice dropped an octave, smooth and devastatingly warm.
"Nothin's the matter, baby. I'm doing great."
Amanda’s brain short-circuited.
For a split second, time stopped. She processed the pun, but more intensely, she processed the way Angela was looking at her—with that smug, brilliant, terribly charming smile. A sudden, very unscripted flush of heat rushed up Amanda’s neck and settled squarely in her cheeks.
"Oh my god!" Amanda shrieked. Having no water left to spit, she just threw her hands over her face and completely broke. She fell forward, burying her blushing face into her knees while a massive, echoing laugh tore out of her throat.
Behind them, the set erupted. Shayne let out a deafening bark of laughter, sliding right off his apple box and taking a light stand down with him. Courtney was wheezing, clapping her hands together frantically.
"I got her! I win!" Angela cheered, jumping up from the stool. She threw her arms up in victory, doing a little dance. "She swallowed the water! She walked right into it!"
Amanda finally lifted her head, her face bright red. She pointed a shaking finger at Angela, still giggling helplessly. "You are so stupid! I completely forgot the theme! I actually thought it was a science term! I thought you were talking about physics!"
"Hook, line, and sinker!" Angela cackled, walking backward toward the curtain. She shot Amanda two dramatic finger guns and a wink. "Too easy, Lehan-Canto. Too easy."
As Angela disappeared behind the divider, Amanda sat up, fanning her face with both hands. She was still laughing, but her heart was doing a strange, frantic little tap dance against her ribs.
"Physics," Shayne wheezed from the floor. "She thought it was physics!"
"Shut up, Shayne," Amanda laughed, reaching for her bottle to refill her mouth, though she was pretty sure her face was going to stay pink for the rest of the shoot.
Before she could even unscrew the cap, a loud, defeated groan echoed from behind the room divider.
"Are you kidding me?" Arasha’s voice complained loudly. "How am I supposed to top that?"
Amanda just groaned and buried her blushing face in her hands all over again.
She could hear Ian cackling from the sidelines, and Shayne loudly declaring that Arasha should just forfeit. The chaotic, familiar energy of the Smosh set buzzed all around her, business as usual. Everyone was already moving on to the next joke.
But as Amanda sat there on the stool, pressing the cool heels of her hands against her burning cheeks, the terrifying reality began to settle in. The bit was over. The punchline had landed. But the erratic, frantic fluttering in her chest wasn't stopping. In fact, as she replayed the low, devastatingly smooth timbre of Angela's voice in her head, the feeling was only sinking deeper.
The cameras were still rolling, but for Amanda, the game was entirely over.