This is a work of fiction in the genre of parody. Parody means: 1) a pair of d's; 2) a literary or musical work in which the style of an author or work is closely imitated for comic effect or in ridicule; 3) a feeble or ridiculous imitation. Personally, we're shooting for number two.
This means several things: 1) CBS can't sue us for copyright infringement as parody is clearly within the exception rule. Nah nah nah nah nah. 2) Obviously, this is a lampoon of "Survivor", the ridiculous stunt series of the summer. But, hey, it's beating 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' in the ratings, thank the gods above! 3) Big note: We are not going to be politically correct in this series. If you like PC humor, don't read this. If you still read this and don't like it, don't write us about it. We plan on bashing stereotypes (hey, they exist for a reason, folks) and exaggerating about as many people and places as possible. It's all in the name of humor. If it ain't your cup of tea, swim on, matey, this here is our island.
Now, just because CBS can't sue us for copyright infringement, we can and will sue you. This is an original work of fiction. Fanatic and Advocate own the copyright. (See below for the complete copyright statement.) Think about our pseudonyms, folks. Fanatic - insane, crazy, obsessed; Advocate - another name for an attorney. Add to the mix the fact that Fanatic is also an attorney
and you don't want to screw with us on this issue. Enough said.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. There are adult themes and language, nudity, sensuality, sexuality, alternative lifestyles (including depictions of homosexuality), and the like. We believe that most parents would consider these elements to be too strong (for viewing by persons less than 18 years of age). If we were a film, we would have an "R" or an "NC-17" rating.
Episode 10: Breakfast at Tiffany's
The next morning, Ryan awoke early. Shannon hadn't slept beside her, further confirming her belief that what she thought was a 'relationship' was really nothing more than an implanted memory, meant to distract her from winning the prize money. The government was smart. Very smart.
She would have to be smarter. Ryan vowed to focus on being better, stronger, and faster. To do that, she would need food. Remembering where a bunch of squirrels was nesting, she headed off into the jungle for some breakfast.
Shannon heard the survivalist leave the camp, and she snuck out behind her. She hadn't slept well at all. The island got chilly at night, and without Ryan to snuggle with, it had been colder than Hillary Clinton's right tit. Which was downright frigid. Or so an ex-girlfriend who had spent the night in the Lincoln bedroom had assured Shannon.
They walked inland for about half an hour, Shannon being very careful to follow Ryan's trail. Fortunately, the brunette wasn't trying to hide her tracks, so it wasn't difficult. Tiffany was cutting a wide swath through the jungle. Finally, Ryan stopped and began examining the trunk of a large tree.
As Ryan looked for the telltale squirrel inlet, Tiffany kept trying to etch the bark. "What, girl? What do you want to write?"
In response, Tiffany carved a heart in the bark. In the left half, she added an 'R' and in the right an 'S'.
Ryan sighed. "No, Tiffany, that was all a dream. We imagined it. I knew it was too good to be true."
"It wasn't," Shannon answered, stepping out into the open.
How did she sneak up on me like that? "What are you doing here?" Ryan moved to stand in front of the carving.
"I followed you."
Shannon kept approaching, moving slowly as she swallowed her own nervousness. "To apologize."
It wasn't a dream or implanted memory! Shannon and I really were together. And
she really was fawning all over Marty yesterday. After what we shared. "Okay," came the very hesitant response.
"Remember when I told you that I used to work for the network?"
Ryan nodded warily.
"That was half true. I am kinda freelancing for them right now."
"You are a plant?" Ryan had to remind herself that big, bad survivalists did not cry.
An emphatic shake of the head was Shannon's reply, her heart clenching at the sight of watery blue eyes. "No. But they try to make me do things. And yesterday, they told me I had to flirt with Marty. Or
" Small, blonde writers didn't have any rules against crying, so she did.
Being careful to sheath Tiffany first, Ryan stepped over and gathered Shannon up in her arms. "Shh, it's okay."
"No, it's not!" Shannon pushed away from Ryan. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I should have told that wicked Rita to go back to hell. But Ryan, she says she has something on you. And if I don't do what she says, she'll expose you."
Ryan laughed. "Has something on me?" She began laughing even harder, until her body was shaking like Monica Lewinsky's thighs. "There isn't anything on me, Shannon. My mother gave birth at home. I don't have a birth certificate or a driver's license or a social security card. To most of the world, I don't exist." Ryan shrugged. "And for those who take the time to really go looking, well, there's nothing to find. I'm totally clean."
"That bitch!" Shannon roared. "That lying, sneaking, no-good, conniving, plastic-inflated, peroxide-coated bitch!" She reached over and carefully extracted Tiffany from Ryan's belt. "Would you like to help me out, Tiffany? I have someone I would very much like you to meet. I think we should invite Rita for breakfast at Tiffany's." She chuckled evilly, thinking of the hapless bat that Tiffany had impaled the night before.
Ryan's hand carefully closed over her baby. "Tiffany is a gentle knife."
"She wanted to cut off Marty's balls," Shannon countered.
"Good point. But can we kiss and make up first?"
Shannon smiled. "Oh, yeah."
As their lips met and the kiss deepened, both women lost themselves in the urgency of the moment. Ryan crushed the petite woman against her, glad to know she hadn't been brainwashed, as she had feared. Shannon clung to the sturdy frame of the survivalist as though her life depended on it.
God, this must be true love. I hear gunfire, Ryan thought.
God, this must be true love. I hear fireworks, Shannon thought.
As the kiss continued, so did the explosions.
Finally, the two broke away from each other and cocked their heads to listen more carefully. "Uh, Ryan
is that what I think it is?"
Ryan nodded grimly. "I'd say we've been invaded."
* * *
"What do you mean 'invaded'?" Shannon huffed as Ryan pushed her onto the ground, and they began low crawling back toward the beach.
Ryan snorted. It didn't take a genius to identify M-16 fire. She sniffed the air. A left- handed shooter using hollow point bullets and no flash suppressor had probably shot off the rounds. Ryan looked fondly at Shannon's innocent, uncomprehending eyes. God, the American school systems were negligent!
When the camp came into view, Shannon opened her mouth to speak, only to find Ryan's palm clamped firmly over her lips. Ryan silently pointed to the corner of the camp as she slowly removed her hand.
Pete, the cameraman, was lying in a heap on the sand. Marty and Marva were tied together in a nearly obscene face-to-face position that the survivalist could only assume was some exotic form of torture. For Marva.
Several militant-looking, highly unattractive, shorthaired, overweight, exceptionally hairy women, wearing thick glasses and combinations of corduroy and flannel, despite the heat, guarded the prisoners. The COWS! Ryan's mind screamed. She knew that bitch YunKungFooey would find a way to cause more trouble!
"Stay down and keep quiet," Ryan whispered to Shannon. "I don't want to be rescuing you, too."
Green eyes narrowed. "I resent that! What makes you think I'd be so easy to kidnap?" she whispered back indignantly.
A slender eyebrow arched. "Call it a hunch."
Shannon stuck her tongue out at Ryan. Then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something she never thought she'd see again. "Bu... is ... is that who I think it is?"
"Uh huh. One and the same."
"I should have drowned her when I had the chance."
Ryan could only nod. "Okay, here's the plan. I rush in and save them. You stay here."
"That's a plan?"
"But she's got a gun." Shannon motioned toward Yun-kyung, who was the only COW with a firearm. The rest held only big sticks.
"So, she'll shoot you!"
Ryan frowned. Her girl really needed to have a little faith in her.
"I've got a better plan," Shannon said confidently. "One that, hopefully, won't get you shot." The writer leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Ryan's cheek. "I've become rather attached to you, sexy." She gently brushed the spot that she had just kissed with her thumb. "And I don't want you with any holes that you didn't have at birth."
Ryan grinned broadly, then cocked her head to the side. She had planned on a surprise attack, wherein she would rush the Asian COW. She figured she could take two or three bullets before they would really slow her down. But it couldn't hurt to humor Shannon. After all, they'd just made up. "Okay, what's your plan?"
* * *
"Shut up, blubber belly!" Yun-kyung shouted at Pete, who was moaning pitifully from his prostrate position in the sand. "You've only been our prisoner for 15 minutes. The Geneva Convention does not require that we give you a snack!"
"But I missed breakfast!" he complained bitterly.
"Tough! That's what you get for working for that environmental demon, Joan!" the vet sneered. "I saw on television, how she poisoned that pristine lagoon with the most horrific, insidious pollutant the world has ever known."
"Nuclear waste?" Marty asked.
Pete shook his head. "She was saving that for this week." Pete choked, as the butt of Yun-kyung's gun pressed deeper into his throat. "But I had nothing to do with that. I love the environment!"
"Don't think we haven't traced the mountain of Snickers wrappers and Mountain Dew cans to you, sloth!"
A chorus of affirmative grunts, cheers and 'Amen, bio-friendly sister', met Yun-kyung's words.
"Oh, man," Marty grunted. "We are so screwed! Start thinking of your last wish, Ms. Georgia, 'cause those COWS are on their way to martyrdom, and we're doomed." The construction foreman pressed his hips even more tightly against Marva's. If this was his last chance to get lucky, he wasn't going waste it.
Marva made a disgusted face. "Ewww. What in the hell is that?" She brought her knee up sharply, exactly the way she had learned in her church self-defense class. Marty's eyes rolled back in his head, and he began squealing like a pig.
"You're right, Marty." Marva gave the man a satisfied smirk. " I do feel better now that my last wish has come true."
Marva turned toward the COWS. "I demand to be the first one killed!" she shouted.
Yun-kyung focused on Marva. She hadn't really gotten a chance to talk to the Southerner when she was a castaway. Her thoughts turned bitter. Of course, if she hadn't been sabotaged and unfairly voted off the island, she would still be a castaway. But at least, Shannon and Ryan had been voted off. She was almost sad not to see them when she and her sisters stormed the beach. They were the main reason she was out the million dollars.
Yun-kyung had intended to use the prize money to start a campaign against companies that made fly swatters. Sure, there were trillions of flies now. But who knew what the future would bring?! Who would land on and eat the world's errant shit piles? "Don't you understand how important our work is?" she said to Marva, her voice impassioned.
The housewife refused to answer, but Marty snorted derisively, hoping that somehow Joan had been able to call in the South China Sea equivalent of a swat team before she was captured. He'd seen another part of the 'herd' heading toward the production area, intent on capturing the show's host.
Before Yun-kyung could shoot Marty, a hideous wail rang out.
Dark eyes widened. What the...?
Then she heard it again. Only this time the sound was even more piteous. "It must be a wounded animal!" the vet cried. "GO! Find it and bring it to me! I will heal it. For free."
The COWS lumbered into the jungle in search of the hideously crying, injured beast, leaving their leader to guard the castaways.
* * *
"Louder!" Ryan hissed.
"God, Ryan, I'm wailing as loud as I can!"
The taller woman smirked down at Shannon from her position in a tree. "Heh. We all know that's not true."
Shannon had the good grace to blush. "That was... um... under extraordinary circumstances."
Ryan's eyes glazed over with lust. Oh, yeah. Extraordinary was one way to describe it. Shannon was made for her. And there was no way in hell she was going to let the luscious blonde slip out of her life when 'Castaway' was over. Not without a fight.
"Someone's coming," the writer whispered. Worry suddenly clouded Shannon's expression. "You'll be careful?"
Blue eyes rolled, but Ryan decided Shannon didn't need to know that she had done this before. Several times. Hell, she'd taught this at Jeeter's Self-Protection for Individualists Camp last summer. "Of course I will, sweetheart." Ryan lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the nearby bushes, where Shannon had promised to hide, and the writer disappeared into the underbrush.
Three COWS approached the area cautiously, scanning the ground for the sorry beast. Shannon moaned again, drawing the Berkeley and Wellesley grads directly under Ryan's position.
Shannon watched, enthralled, as Ryan silently dropped out of the tree. She picked off one woman at a time, rendering each unconscious, while the other COWS searched nearby, oblivious to the survivalist's actions. They never even knew what hit them. Shannon flushed. God, Ryan was sexy! She knew the dark-haired woman was a physical person by nature, that much was obvious, but to actually see with her own eyes, what she'd only imagined Ryan capable of... that was another story.
Ryan used a length of vine and finished hog-tying the last COW with flourish. "Okay, Shannon," she stood up and brushed off her hands, "you can start..."
Ryan's words were cut off as Shannon hurled herself at the survivalist. "Uff!" The taller woman's back slammed against the jungle floor, and Shannon immediately straddled her waist.
"Damn, that was so hot, Ryan." The writer's lips attached themselves to Ryan's throat.
"Oh... sh... baby, we're on a mission here," Ryan ground out, as Shannon's hands found their way under her tank top.
The blonde moaned. "You're right, honey. I'm on a mission."
"What about the COWS?" Will power. I must be strong!
"Let them get their own woman!"
A rustling in the bushes indicated that more COWS were on their way. "Hurry up and take care of them, Ryan," she commanded softly. "I want to finish this discussion." She kissed the older woman deeply.
"I will, sweetheart," Ryan promised as she moved into position again. "I dedicate the next skull fracture to you." She sniffed self-consciously. Nobody ever made her feel like a woman, the way Shannon did!
* * *
"Where are they?" Yun-kyung asked. She'd sent the last of her team of COWS to find the wounded animal at least 15 minutes ago. How many women did it take to successfully carry out one order?!
"Maybe the animal ate them," Pete snickered.
Yun-kyung rammed the tip of the rifle up Pete's nose, expanding one of his nostrils. "Quiet, Satanic Minion!"
Yun-kyung closed her eyes in frustration. There was that pathetic wail again. She couldn't take it anymore! "I'll be back," she called over her shoulder, convinced that the castaways wouldn't be able to escape their bindings before she returned.
Just as the vet slipped into the jungle, Shannon popped out from behind a bush and moved over to her fellow contestants and Pete.
"Oh, Shannon! I'm so glad to see you," Marva groaned pathetically. Being this close to Marty all morning made her want to wash with lye soap and bleach. But at least, Pete hadn't filmed it. Bo, her husband, God love him, would certainly string Marty up for pressing against her like she was some wanton hussy. Of course, no jury in De Kalb Country would convict Bo of anything. He had been quarterback at Jefferson High School, and his senior year they'd won the State Championship. Marva sighed happily. God, she loved Southern jurisprudence.
"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner. The last two COWS were enormous. We ran out of vine to tie them up with."
"You've captured them?" Pete asked.
"Uh huh." Shannon beamed. "Well, I lured them into the jungle, while Ryan captured them."
"You're the hideous beast?" they all exclaimed.
Shannon nodded. "I hope Ryan is careful with Yun-kyung."
Marva squeezed Shannon's shoulder. "She'll be fine, Shannon. She's probably caught her already."
"Shouldn't we go see what happened to Joan and Rita?" Pete asked. Not that he really wanted to. But there was food in the production area and he'd now missed lunch as well as breakfast.
Shannon considered the request for a moment. "All in favor of rescuing the bleached-blonde, turbo bitches from hell, raise your hands."
No one moved.
"There's your answer, Pete."
"But if something happens to them, they might cancel the show and then no one would win the million dollars," Pete reasoned. For the love of God, today was hot dog day!
Marty, Shannon and Marva all frowned.
Shannon sighed. "Let's go."
* * *
In the production hut, Rita and Joan were tied back-to-back. The second team of COWS previously sent by Yun-kyung to find the host was in the process of going through the food stores and giving all animal-based products a proper burial.
"I can't believe you allowed this to take place!" Rita hissed, straining at the ropes that bound her to the host.
"Me? Me? Who was too cheap to pay for any security here on the island? Despite the fact that drug traffickers regularly use it to store cocaine to evade international police!" She had been so happy when she found that stash, behind the third palm tree to the left of the big rock, outside the cave. It had almost made staying on the island bearable.
"Those aren't drug traffickers, you idiot! Those are studio employees! And it's part of our executive compensation package!"
Joan groaned, thinking of all the money she had wasted over the years. "Dammit! I want a promotion when this is over!"
Right then, three COWS trooped into the hut. "All right, which one of you is in charge here?"
"I am!" both bleached blondes cried out.
"Okay, then you're both the first to die for the cause of all animals, processed into handy meat patties, to be cooked your way at substandard restaurants."
"She is!" came their next reply.
The COW with the firearm scratched her butt. This was harder than expected. "Come on, tell me. Don't make me have to shoot you both." It would be better if they had one later for leverage.
"Have you been watching the show at all?" Rita queried. Were there any animal components in televisions? Or were the COWS all too busy playing in their softball leagues?
All three shrugged. "Nah
it looked kinda lame."
Rita made a mental note to begin including some COWS in her next focus group. "Well, she's the host of the show! The one who poured the oil in the lagoon! The one who imported the bats! The one who dumped your leader in elephant crap! It was her, all her!"
"Me? Me? Who was it that came up with the stupid idea for this show to begin with?"
Rita snorted. "That was some person in Dutch TV." We don't have one original idea at the BTBC. Why else are our other programs 'Police Cops', 'Who Wants To Bury A Multi-millionaire?' and 'Gerri Wringer'?
"And who has been sending me cables encouraging me to do all those heinous acts? Who said to 'pump up the danger level', to 'make it sexy' and to 'fillet the COWS'?"
Horrified gasps all around.
Joan smiled maliciously, going for the kill. Literally. "Aren't you the one who told me to put animal protein in the rice that Yungster was eating?"
"That's it." The COW had heard enough. "You're dead, blondie." Seeing the confused looks on the women, as both of them were blonde, the COW amended, "Old blondie."
Rita shrieked. How dare they call her old!?
* * *
Ryan had been watching the crew area for several minutes. Yun-kyung had, instead of coming to find her alone, headed in this direction for backup. Ryan was just about to make her move when she heard loud thrashing in the jungle to her left. Coming along the path were Shannon, Marva, Marty and Pete.
So much for sneaking up on the camp. Ryan stealthily moved through the underbrush and intercepted the foursome. "Shh, come with me," she directed and turned to lead them back to a safe place.
Shannon immediately grabbed her hand. She was so glad to see her lover unharmed. And she was still more than a little worked up from before. As they moved through the jungle, she let her hand glide over Ryan's ass.
Ryan, for her part, gave a little yelp when she felt the smaller hand cop a feel. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the playful expression she found on Shannon's face. "Later."
Once they were at a safe distance, Ryan knelt down and used Tiffany to draw a diagram of the camp. "All right, here's what we're up against. There are five huts in the production area. The COWS and Joan and some other anorexic person are in the center one. But we have some mad COWS still roaming around here
and here." She made sketches in the dirt to illustrate her point. "What we need to do is take out the big cows-"
Marty snorted. "You can tell the difference?"
Ryan allowed a brief smile to cross her lips. It was true. They were rather interchangeable. "The outdoor ones," she conceded. "So, we'll take them down, and then we can deal with the head COWS."
"And then have lunch?" Pete asked hopefully. Just to piss off the COWS he wanted to have a weenie roast. He figured their phallic shape would add insult to injury.
Everyone shrugged. Lunch sounded fine. No one mentioned saving Rita or Joan.
* * *
Yun-kyung strode into the main tent the moment Joan was being untied for execution. She had thought better of wandering into the jungle alone. If the animal was that badly injured, she should take someone else with her to help. Especially with so many of her minions missing. "What's going on here?" she demanded, dark eyes taking in the scene.
The COWS snapped to attention. "We were going to execute this one -" she gestured to the weeping Joan "- so that people would know we're serious."
Why must all brilliant revolutionaries be saddled with idiot followers? Yun-kyung sighed. "We're not killers."
"Thank God!" Joan sobbed.
"We're here to protest the abuses committed to the animal life on the island. Remember?"
Rita shook her head. "You're pathetic! What kind of terrorist are you? Jesus! I've dealt with actresses who were more mercenary than you are! Kathy Lee Gifford would eat you COWS alive," she sneered disgustedly. Her wrists were getting chaffed for this?
The COWS were forced to nod their agreement. Nobody did 'bitch' like Kathy Lee.
Joan glared at the studio executive. "Are you trying to get us killed?"
"Like she has the balls to do it!" Rita snorted.
Yun-kyung stomped her foot. "Enough! Two of you need to go back to the castaway camp and get the four hostages I left tied up. Then we'll make that fat cameraman broadcast our demands to the world!"
The armed COW squinted. "We have demands?"
Yun-kyung wished for a wall to beat her head against. "Of course we do!" Jesus, Mary and Joseph! "Go! Now!"
* * *
The sound of an animal in obvious distress was heard in the crew area. Yun-kyung scowled. What did the BTBC do to the island to cause such pain to the animal population? In a rage, she turned to Joan and Rita. "What did you do? Set up traps around the perimeter?"
"Huh?" the blondes answered in tandem.
"Listen to that noise! The pain! The suffering! The anguish!" The veterinarian could hardly stand it a moment longer.
Joan began laughing. "That's not an animal. That's Shannon getting laid." Lucky little bitch.
"What?" That's impossible! Unless
unless Ryan is still on the island! Yun-kyung slapped her forehead. It all made sense now. The insane survivalist had taken down her fallen COWS. Pointing the rifle at the network women, she warned, "Stay right here." Then she stalked out of the camp.
In the jungle, Shannon continued on with her pathetic wailing. While Marva, Marty and Pete hid in the underbrush, Ryan dropped out of the trees and took out the wandering cattle one by one.
When Shannon felt the barrel of a rifle pressing into her neck, she went mute.
"I should have known." Yun-kyung couldn't believe she had fallen for this ruse.
"Little help, please?" Shannon called, finding her voice again.
Ryan had just finished hog tying the last COW, when she heard Shannon's cry. Rushing back to where she had left the luscious blonde, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Shannon held hostage.
The brunette scratched her head. Somehow the scene didn't seem right. She had a brief flash of a memory of Shannon being held with a knife to her throat. But that didn't make sense. Tiffany and her kin would never hurt Shannon. She shook her head, clearing the image. She needed to focus on the here and now. "Easy does it."
"Easy does it? Easy does it? What? Do I look like an egg?" the Asian ranted.
"Huh?" Ryan replied. Damn, the vet really was loony. What did eggs have to do with this?
The environmental terrorist blew out a deep breath. "You kept saying 'easy does it'. Like fixing an egg over easy."
"What does breakfast food have to do with anything?"
"I'm not talking about breakfast!"
Broad shoulders shrugged. "I didn't bring it up. You did." Ryan gave Shannon a reassuring smile, which the younger woman immediately mirrored.
"I did not! I don't eat eggs!"
How many times did she have to explain this? "Because I don't eat other living things."
"Eggs aren't living," Ryan countered reasonably.
"I don't think so."
Yun-kyung shoved Shannon out of her way and stalked over to the survivalist. "My God, are you really that stupid?"
"No, but you are, bitch," Shannon said behind her, picking up a large branch and smacking the smaller woman with it. Yun-kyung crumpled to the jungle floor, and Shannon rushed into her lover's arms.
"God, I love you," Ryan whispered reverently, hoping she could talk Shannon into substitute teaching at Jeeter's next spring. The luscious blonde was a natural!
* * *
Several hours later, Ryan had repaired the radio, allowing Joan to send out a call for help. The local authorities came and corralled the COWS, herding them away from the island. In an unusual act of compassion, Joan decided to forego the immunity competition and go straight for the tribal council.
Pete managed to somehow shoulder the camera, despite having one hot dog sticking out of his mouth and another grasped in his free hand. Since his near brush with death, all thirty minutes of it, he had been eating non-stop. If he was gonna go, he was gonna go his way. And that was fat, dumb and happy.
"This is the next to last vote. The two who emerge from this tribal council will be competing for the one million dollar prize," Joan informed the viewing audience. She had planned on drawing it out, but she was so over this show. She couldn't wait to get back to her life in Los Angeles. The first thing she was going to do when she got there was burn her passport. "Who will it be?"
The four remaining castaways waited for their moment in the voting hut. Marva was sent in first. "This vote is for my husband, who would do significant bodily injury to Marty if he were here. Honey bear, I'm sending Marty home. Do what you will." No witnesses, baby!
Next in was Shannon. She quickly wrote down Marty's name. Ryan was next, and she too voted to evict the construction foreman.
Finally, Marty came into the hut. "Marva, sweetheart, you have a cute ass
but saggy breasts. Time for you to go."
Joan went into the hut and retrieved the votes. Bringing them back to the tribal council, she began reading them off. "Marty."
"Bitch," Marty muttered.
"Pardon me, bitches," he amended.
"Please, there's not enough Listerine in the world for that." Marva shuddered at the mere thought of it.
Joan paused dramatically. The next vote would decide who, besides Marty, was voted off. She was sure the ass hadn't voted for himself. "And
The three women all leaned forward.
"Fiddlesticks," the housewife sighed. She turned to Ryan and Shannon. "Congratulations, you two." To Joan she said, "I don't care what you say, but I won't go back to the mainland in the same boat as him."
"You're not going back to the mainland. You and Marty are spending the night here in the crew quarters. Tomorrow, we bring back the last five voted off, and then the seven of you will choose who is the final castaway."
Marty spat. "What? You mean I don't even get a fucking hot shower and a decent meal?"
Joan smiled thinly. "No, but I think we have a few more hot dogs." Prick.
The construction foreman pointed a thick finger at Shannon and Ryan. "I wouldn't start counting your winnings just yet, girly-girls."
As always, thanks to our wonderful editing team and our web designer. You guys make our lives easy and make us look good. We are indebted.
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