You know, Marc Summers, I think I'll take the physical challenge. Wait, as long as it's not Messy Basket Balloons. I am not comfortable with balls flying at my head and then unleashing liquid explosions upon impact. Being the proper and wholesome individual that I am, I don't think that sort of imagery is appropriate for family programming either. Actually, given that I suck at trivia as well, I don't really want to play Double Dare at all. Can I just have my blue T-Shirt as a parting gift, Marc Summers? So I can wear it and wash it repeatedly until the material gets very thin, at which point I will give it to a lady blessed with a delightfully large chesticular region?
But for those who do want to play, here are your choices: answer the question (never happens, due to requirement of knowing answer to question); dare (always happens, due to previous explanation); double dare (again, see previous explanation); and take the PHYSICAL CHALLENGE! Woot! Woot! Physical Challenge! It's not just a choice, it's the choice. It's where all roads lead on the illustrious Double Dare. It's the only real reason anyone went on the show, and the only real reason we all watched. Oh the thrill of seeing father and son use bows to shoot toilet plungers at buckets of green slime hanging above mother and daughter! Ahhh, Double Dare, what happened to you? Why did you let the Food Network lure away Marc Summers to that lameass Unwrapped show? Why is all that's left of my best after-school-television-viewing years a mere collection of red and blue DD T-shirts?
Oh well, I guess we take what we can get. One dozen of each please.