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Consume the entire bowling ball
You foolishly unhinge your jaw and shove the bowling ball into your mouth. It sits there, inert and uncooperative. Your various smooth muscles and membranes expand and contract rhythmically, slowly drawing it downward. At the right moment you inhale sharply, pulling it down your throat.
Now it sits blocking your airway. More tissues give way to make room, and you temporarily dislocate your collarbones. Minutes pass. Your vision blurs and grows dark. Your oxygen-deprived brain makes a futile effort to contemplate your impending death, which only serves to waste your precious remaining moments.
The ball then passes deeper down your esophagus, freeing your trachea. You gasp in relief, or at least try to, because now the ball is halfway into your chest and is pressing against your heart and your lungs. You're past the point where gravity can assist you so you lay flat on your back and let torturous peristalsis do its dark work.
Stars swirl in your vision as your heart desperately tries to maintain your flow of blood. The ball presses against your aorta for a moment and you lose consciousness immediately.
Some time later, your mind returns to your abused body. You're lying on your right side now, a position that would have directed the ball away from your heart. It seems the ball is now in your stomach, the first (and last) organ actually capable of handling an object that size.
This was an incredibly foolish thing to do, you reflect. You could have died. Maybe, briefly, you did. And now your mouth tastes like bowling ball. You reach into your pack and pull out a small vial of chicken-flavored mouthwash. You swish it around in your mouth for a bit before carefully returning it to the vial. Mmmm, now your mouth tastes like chicken. Much better.
Stupidity aside, eating the bowling ball did briefly satisfy your insatiable boredom. That terrible task completed, you again feel the boredom gnawing away at the corners of your mind.