The High-Altitude Beam Walk

I decided a world-class gymnast doesn't simply climb down from a nightstand like an ordinary civilian. Spotting a flat wooden ruler lying across the notebooks, I shoved it out over the gap until it rested on the arm of your swivel chair, creating an elite bridge. I strutted across with pristine posture, my plastic sneaker soles clicking on the inch markings. Halfway through, the wood flexed with a sharp squeak and tilted sideways. I slid right down the slope and landed bottom-first into an unfolded cotton tube sock. For your information, that dismount was deliberate and entirely ten out of ten.