266. Face to Face with Death
Amy dives under the piano and covers her head with her hands for extra protection. Her whole body quakes as she anticipates the coming glass rain. As the shards tinkle to the ground around her, she feels a few nicks on her hands and legs, but after a few moments Amy breathes a sigh of relief. She seems to have dodged the crystalline deluge.
Amy's relief is short-lived as she feels a sharp pain in the back of her head and finds herself being yanked out from under the piano by her pony tail. Before she has an opportunity to reorient herself to her new position, Amy is face-to-face with the enraged diva. Amy's entire field of vision is occupied by the woman's rotund face, every muscle of which is contorted into a mask of apoplectic rage. Her lips are curled back in an angry sneer, her eyes wide. Amy can count the beads of sweat dripping down the diva's beet-red face. She even sees the diva's own earplugs wedged into the canals of her elephantine ears.
The diva has paused for a moment, as though contemplating how best to dispose of the unwanted interloper. This is Amy's last chance to make a move!
What should Amy do?