Let me start out by saying that I love “The Hunger Games”. That being said, I would never actually want to participate in the Games.
If I had to, though?
Well, here’s how I would survive.
Killer survival skills.
Pun fully intended, I’ve got pretty awesome survival skills. I’ve been camping roughly 19 years of my almost 23 on this earth with two closeted pyromaniacs. They love throwing kerosene on wood to start their campfires. More than once, I’ve expected to see their trailers go up in a blaze. However, I’ve somehow managed to survive the woods with them.
Watching me run is like watching a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti. I stumble, I pant and mostly, I want to curl up and die. However, I can use that to my advantage. The other Tributes would take me as an easy target and then, while I’m lying on the ground just seconds from death, I’ll strike. BAM! They’d never see it coming.
I was a high school actor.
“Oh, she’s so sweet. She won’t hurt anybody.” I can act. I can take ‘em. It would be like mind games on “Survivor” but, you know, deadly.
I’m a scaredy cat.
No, no, wait. Hear me out. I’m afraid of the dark. I’m a total wimp. I can’t even watch the corniest of horror movies without nightmares. Why does that work for me? Easy! I’ll find the edge of the arena and sit right there. No one will be able to find me and then at the end of the Games, I’ll just be like, “WHAM!” and sneak up on somebody.
Ok, ok, fine. I’d be gone at the cornucopia. Actually, I’d probably fall off my disk. We would all be waiting for the signal and it would be “5…4…3…2—BOOM!” because I’d lose my balance and fall.
So there you have it. It’s really just for the better that I’m too old for the Reaping. Start that cardio. At least you’ll have a shot.