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 7: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
Today the two teams would combine. The rest of the competition would be spent together at the Alphas' camp, where the Betas were heading now. Arturo walked several steps behind Shannon, but she could still hear his heavily accented, taunting song. "Cheena of the Jungle and Rambo Ryan sittin' in a tree. N-A-A-K-E-D-D."
"That's not how you spell it." Shannon stuck out an impudent tongue at the hairdresser.
"Oooo, you slut, chica. Does Ryan, Warrior Princess, know you'll whip that out for anyone?"
"You're just jealous that Marty would gouge his eyes out before hooking up with you."
Arturo made a hissing sound, and shaped his hands into claws.
A hush came over the island's wildlife as the writer walked by. Even the insects were respectfully silent. Green eyes narrowed. "Jesus, I wasn't that loud," Shannon shouted.
Arturo just snorted. "Tell the truth. How many times have you been evicted, chica?"
"None!" Okay, twice. But that was none of Arturo's business. And those experiences paled in comparison to what she had shared with Ryan. Shannon was amazed she'd remained conscious through so many orgasms. A few more encounters with the amazing survivalist, and Shannon was sure she'd be able to come on command. Like a well-trained puppy, only with boobs, sex toys, and a multifunctional, padded leash.
The blonde's eyes rolled back as she began reliving the night in the cove. But the grin slid from her face when she remembered how the evening had ended. While Shannon had achieved a level of satiation previously unknown to man or beast, Ryan had been left wanting. She cringed. All right, 'homicidal' might be a teensy bit more accurate.
Joan had called an impromptu, emergency castaway meeting. When she couldn't find Shannon and Ryan, the host had ordered a massive search. Arturo had literally stumbled onto Ryan and Shannon a few moments ahead of two cameramen. Without his warning, Shannon would have been caught up to her eyeballs in - well, Ryan, actually.
Joan, the network whore, had only called the meeting to bitch about Russell, who had been disqualified for boffing an exceptionally hairy camerawoman in exchange for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Shannon felt a sudden surge of empathy for the professor, who had clearly hit rock bottom. But, damn, it was the cheesiest!
Before Ryan had left for the Alpha camp that night, she had let out a tortured moan of pure sexual frustration that had haunted the younger woman's dreams. It was more than Shannon could bear. Well, she could bear it; but only after several itchy, but ultimately satisfying, trips to the bushes for some quality time with herself. But how long would that be enough? She needed Ryan like Elvis needed fried chicken. It was a medical addiction!
Shannon unconsciously licked her lips. God, she would have Ryan in ways that would make even Rita blush.
No, wait. That was impossible.
Juggling her toilet paper stash and journal, Shannon began fanning herself, wondering if the jungle seemed unusually hot to anyone else.
When the Betas rounded the corner, the Alphas' camp came into view. They stood there in slack-jawed, wide-eyed silence, taking in the scene before them.
The Alpha camp was fantastic. Marty and Jason were resting comfortably in slowly swaying hammocks made from woven palm fronds. And they were drinking something frothy out of coconut shell cups.
Marva was basting some unidentifiable, but undeniably delicious-smelling, hunk of meat, which was mounted on a wind-powered rotisserie and slowly spinning over an open flame. Several chairs, whose bottoms were padded with soft, grass-filled cushions, flanked a tree trunk table. And the bug population was almost non-existent, due to the citric-laced torches that lined the camp's edge and bathed it with a clean, fruity scent.
Overcome with curiosity, the writer walked over to the corner of the camp and pulled on a dangling vine that extended from a black tarp. A fine spray of water instantly poured to the ground. Shannon stuck her hand in its stream. "OH MY GOD!" she shrieked. "It's warm!" She looked at her hand in amazement. "And clean!"
"Of course it's clean," Ryan said with a scowl. Did her woman think she was some sort of savage? "We have a screen on top to keep the leaves out, and it's heated by the sun."
Shannon marched over to Ryan, not bothering with a greeting. "Have you been living like this the entire time?"
"Don't be silly. We didn't finish the enclosed latrine until the second day. And cutting down the bamboo for the running water took a little time as well."
Marty yawned. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, that one day we had to crouch in the bushes to shit was pure hell."
"Running water?" Shannon echoed. A glance to the right revealed the water fountain they had constructed. Shannon grasped Ryan's forearms, willing her hands not to shake as a slow, angry flush worked its way up her chest and neck. "And you have a bathroom?" she ground out, still not quite believing what she was seeing and hearing. They were living like the Swiss Fucking Family Robinson, while her team had been in hell!
Ryan's eyebrows drew together. What was Shannon talking about? "Of course we have a bathroom. It's really not safe to…"
"Ouch!" Ryan winced, rubbing her upper arm. "Where are you going?" she called after the furious writer, as Shannon tore out of camp in a barely controlled rage.
Marva gasped and shook her finger at Ryan. "Don't tell me you didn't help them with their camp? Even after you and Shannon… ." Her eyes filled with disappointment in her jungle hero. "Oh, Ryan, how could you?!"
"Huh?" Ryan looked confused. "I figured they must want to sleep in curled up balls … in the weeds … along the beach … under the stars. I mean, why else would anyone…"
"Ouch!" Ryan grabbed her other shoulder. "Why is everyone hitting me?" she yelled, as Marva stalked after Shannon in a show of female unity.
Dawn stood in front of Ryan, but was too afraid to hit the survivalist. She just looked at the taller woman disapprovingly. "I can't believe you did that to Shannon! And she really likes you, too!" Dawn disappeared down the beach.
Arturo pranced over to Ryan, tsking loudly and shaking his head.
"Touch me and die, girly-boy," Ryan snarled.
Twinkling brown eyes traveled the length of Ryan's body before Arturo lifted a sassy eyebrow. "Men!" With that, the hairdresser skipped out of camp, eager to begin dissing butches in general. They were so thoughtless, and never conditioned after shampooing!
Ryan whirled around to face Tanesha. The athletic recruiter was sprawled out in one of the empty hammocks, drinking a mango smoothie and looking terribly bored by the entire exchange. "Well?" Ryan demanded.
Tanesha thought for a moment. "Well, I'd say you are one cold-hearted, honky bitch for letting your woman live like a dog while you're," she gestured broadly, "…here." The black woman shrugged. "I'd stab a brother in the nuts for less."
The men all crossed their legs.
Ryan flopped down next to Tanesha; the word 'stab' had immediately brought to mind her beloved. She knew that Shannon would end up being more unreasonable than Tiffany! Although, Ryan mentally conceded, Shannon's great breasts did make up for a lot.
Tanesha chuckled, noticing the same dazed, desperately horny look that Shannon got at least three times daily. "Don't bother thinking about what you can't have, girl. Winged monkeys are gonna fly outta your ass 'fore you get any again."
The men grunted their agreement. Marty sat up and slapped Ryan on the back. "Welcome to the dog house. There are a lot of tits and ass magazines…"
"And home movies…" the engaged law student added, helpfully.
Marty nodded approvingly. "…To get you through these times. Too bad you don't have any here." He smirked. "These items are indispensable in your war against the weaker…"
Ryan's hand shot out, grabbing Marty by the throat and cutting off his oxygen supply.
"I… mean… fairer… fairer sex," he croaked as he began to lose consciousness.
"We have to do what?" Dawn asked Joan, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up into the trees, where five bundles were suspended at least 20 feet off the ground.
"Your challenge is to get the bundles out of the trees, alone or in pairs." The host looked into the camera and tediously reminded the slower viewers of the rules once again. "There are no longer two teams. The castaways will now compete individually for luxury items and immunity tokens. In each of the bundles, is a luxury item. In only one of them, there is an immunity token. Whoever wins the immunity token cannot be voted off the island, but he or she can vote against the others. Starting tonight, two members of the island will be voted off at each tribal council."
Joan's gaze landed on each castaway, lingering so the camera could follow her movements. "You have 10 minutes to be back on the ground with your bundle. GO!"
Ryan fingered Tiffany anxiously. Soon, baby. With one toss she could free the booty. But what if the fall damaged what was inside? No. Better to try and lower the items to the ground. Alert eyes scanned the foliage for hidden devices, especially Venus flytraps. They contain microprocessors that attach themselves to human skin and collect an involuntary DNA sample for the FDA. She'd found one of those yesterday. Marva had tried to convince her that it was just a dead fly in the plant. Ryan snorted at the thought. Oh, to be that naïve again!
After a quick inspection, Ryan grabbed Shannon's hand, even though the younger woman was still refusing to speak to her. "C'mon, I need a partner." When Shannon wouldn't look at her, the survivalist gently cupped the blonde's chin, forcing her gaze upward.
Their eyes locked, and Shannon fought the urge to drown in those gorgeous baby blues. Sighing inwardly, she gave up almost immediately. It's way too late for that. You're already gone and you know it, Shannon. "Okay," she agreed softly.
The other castaways paired up, except for Marty, who mumbled something about not needing some candy ass' help to win. One member of each pair climbed up a tree as far as possible, then stopped to help the other. Joan frowned. They were working well together! This was boring!
"I said, I didn't do it!"
Breathing a sigh of relief, Joan pointed to Tanesha and Jason, who were working their way up the middle tree. The cameramen went scurrying.
"Liar!" Jason groaned. "Who else could have stepped on my head? We're the only ones in this tree!"
"Maybe you hit your own head, ignorant cracker! I'm innocent."
"Like O.J. Simpson, you mean?"
Dark eyes turned to slits, and Tanesha's voice became a menacing growl. "Just like that."
"Figures. Only a brainwashed spear-chucker would be idiotic enough to really believe that!" Oops. Did I say that out loud?
And with a glorious flush, Jason's future political career went swirling down the crapper. God bless television, videotape and instant replay.
Joan smiled so broadly, she began to worry that her chin and cheek implants might have shifted. Oh, baby, this was nearly as good as that tape she had of Ryan and Shannon making out. And she was going to retire on that bad boy once it hit the black market!
Ryan paused in her climbing efforts. "O.J. was set up. And the entire trial was done on a Hollywood sound stage. Just like Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. Duh! Everybody knows that!" she whispered to Shannon, as they watched Jason and Tanesha with interest.
Shannon remained silent, trying to pretend she hadn't heard Ryan's last comment. Had the brunette ever considered Prozac?
"Oooo..." All the castaways and crew groaned simultaneously as Tanesha kicked Jason's head several times in rapid succession. That had to hurt!
Despite the fact that they were still brawling, Jason managed to grab hold of the bundle, only to have Tanesha tear it from his arms and send it flying through the air and into Shannon. The force of the swinging object sent Shannon crashing into the bundle she and Ryan were trying to claim. The blonde grabbed wildly, reaching for anything that would keep her from careening to the ground, but her hands slipped on the cloth surface. She closed her eyes, preparing to fall, when her head jerked back violently. It took several dazed seconds before Shannon realized her hair had tangled in the ropes, and that she was now hanging suspended in the air, alongside the small pack of luxury items.
"Son of bitch!" Ryan cursed, her stomach in her throat at the sound of Shannon's cries.
"One minute!" Joan called, sure she would need a change of undies after this excitement.
"FUCK!" Unable to reach Shannon, Ryan scurried down the tree and surveyed the situation from the ground, flipping Joan off when the host pointed to her watch.
She had no choice. Ryan pulled Tiffany out and took just a second to lay a tender kiss on the shiny blade before sending her sailing toward Shannon. The spinning knife sliced through the ropes, and Shannon's mane, like hot butter. Tears stung Ryan's eyes as she watched poetry in motion. She would retrieve her baby after she saved her love.
Shannon landed safely in Ryan's arms, and a second later the bundle came crashing down on them both, buckling Ryan's knees.
"TIME!" Joan looked at the pile on the ground that was Shannon and Ryan. "CUT!" she directed Pete while smiling wickedly. "No pun intended, Shannon."
Arturo nearly fell out of his tree as he clasped his cheeks with both hands, crowing with undisguised delight, "I smell a makeover!!"
* * *
Arturo stood behind Shannon and surveyed his work one last time. "Oh, chica, you look good enough to eat. Si, Ryan?"
"Oh, yeah," the survivalist lustily replied.
"I'm not talking to you!" Shannon huffed, turning on the stump, presenting her back to Ryan.
Ryan frowned. Why didn't her beloved understand? Why must women be so temperamental? That was the best thing about her Tiffany. Tiffany was beautiful, but without all the complications. Of course, Shannon had several advantages over Tiffany, most importantly, the ability to not cause internal bleeding. Not that Ryan had experienced that particular benefit yet. Even she wasn't rugged enough to go there.
"Go away!" Shannon groused.
Pushing herself up to her feet, Ryan ambled into the jungle.
Marva sat by the fire, watching the dejected brunette wander off alone. This was no good. If Ryan was upset, then there went their food supply. That woman could hunt and skin anything. Marva wanted to win the million dollars, but she would prefer to avoid developing an eating disorder while doing so. She turned to Dawn, who was sitting beside her. "You realize our best chance for dinner just went into the jungle - depressed?"
"That's not good." Dawn was getting hungry. Her hand went to her stomach unconsciously.
"You know who caused it?"
Dawn looked over at the hairdresser, who was still primping Shannon's new hairdo. "Shannon?"
"No!" Marva shook her head emphatically. "Jason and Tanesha!"
"They did?" Dawn was confused. She thought Ryan was upset because she wasn't getting any. That was the phrase she had learned from Joe recently. She'd been learning a lot, actually.
"Yeah. They started fighting, and that's what caused the accident. Now Shannon is upset, because Ryan had to cut her hair to save her."
"So? What can we do?"
Marva's eyes took on an evil, determined glint. "Let's toss Tanesha and Jason at tribal council later."
Dawn thought about it for a moment. In the jungle, it was eat or be eaten. Or both, in Ryan and Shannon's case. If she didn't join this coalition, the next one might be voting to get rid of her. "Okay." And she was tired of Jason being referred to as the Ivy League Graduate Student by the crew. Fuck that. The University of Iowa might not sound very prestigious, but it was good enough for her family.
Marva nodded. Only a few more votes to round up, and tonight's tribal council meeting would be fine. She sighed and looked at where Ryan had disappeared into the jungle. Then all that would be left would be mending broken hearts.
Not a problem. She was a mother.
* * *
"I need to do what?" Ryan repeated, her voice petulant, sounding like Anita Hill at Clarence Thomas' confirmation hearings.
"Whoo?" Ryan scratched her head. "Like a train? Whoo-whoo?" That didn't make much sense. What did trains have to do with her and Shannon? Was this some of that Freudian stuff she had heard about once, that the government used to make you hate your parents? She remembered it had something to do with trains and tunnels.
Marva counted to three. "No. 'Woo,' as in romance, her."
"Stop repeating me," Marva chastised. "Look, Ryan, Shannon is hurt. When women get their feelings hurt, they like to be romanced. And Shannon is going to require a lot of romancing right now, I'm afraid."
"You mean like candles and flowers and shit?"
Marva smiled, pleased that she was getting through. "Well, not the shit part."
* * *
Tribal council hadn't gone so well. Fortunately, Marva's coalition had held strong. Three votes for Jason. Three votes for Tanesha. One vote each for Marty, Dawn and Ryan.
Marva figured Tanesha had voted for Marty, Jason for Dawn and … unfortunately, Shannon for Ryan.
Trouble in Paradise.
Marva sincerely hoped it would get better soon. She was getting hungry.
* * *
In the morning, Shannon awoke to a horrific stench. She opened her eyes to find several glassy eyes staring back at her. Immediately alert, she began scrambling away from the huge stack of dead fish piled next to her bed. What in the hell??? Had the entire ocean washed up next to her pillow during the night?
Then she noticed the message cut into the scales of the top fish: I'm hooked on you.
If Ryan thinks a pile of slimy, scaly, nasty fish piled by my nose, no less, will make up for the removal of my golden fleece … well, she has another thing coming. Shannon rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
"Breakfast!" Marva exclaimed. Yes! The pep talk had worked. The way to a woman's heart was through her stomach. At least, that's what she had assured Ryan last night. Happily, Marva gathered up the fish and began preparing them for the morning meal.
Ryan watched as her first peace offering was rejected. "Stupid, Ryan, stupid. You sent her a mob sign: sleep with the fishes. She must think you threatened her!" She dropped down to the sand and began trying to figure out her next move. "Okay, what do women like? Debugging equipment? Bulletproofed vests? Their very own gas masks with washable filters? Flowers!"
The survivalist raced off into the jungle to find some flowers that weren't full of bugs. Of the government kind.
* * *
When Marva saw Ryan coming back into camp, she ran over and greeted the tall castaway effusively. "Thank you for breakfast, Ryan!" she leaned up and kissed Ryan's cheek.
Marty, from the hammock, called out, "I thought you didn't swing that way, Mrs. Georgia."
"If you were the only other option, I would." Marva noted that Ryan was holding something behind her back. "What do you have there, Ryan?"
"Nothing." The survivalist blushed.
Marva decided she really liked this match-making thing. Maybe when she got back to the States, she could start her own daytime television show for lonely hearts. She could certainly do better than that nasty XXX show on MTV. "Show me."
"Look at the beautiful flowers!" Arturo shrieked, bouncing over.
Ryan wondered if killing Arturo would piss Shannon off even more. She decided not to risk it. Right now, he was the closest hairstylist, and she didn't want to risk further alienating the luscious, now short-haired, blonde.
Taking a whiff of the orchids, Arturo pranced around Ryan. "Who are those for? Hmm? Or shall I guess?"
"Oh, Channon! Channon! Come look at what Rambo Ryan -" a quick glance at Ryan confirmed this nickname was not appreciated "- did I say that out loud? - has brought for you!"
"Hair growth formula?" Shannon inquired crossly.
Ryan winced. Maybe flowers weren't going to be enough. And it had taken her a long time to find some that hadn't been tampered with. Gamely, she pulled the flowers from behind her back and presented them to the object of her desire. "For you."
Shannon melted a bit inside. Ryan hadn't really meant to cut off all her hair, after all. And she did look very adorable standing there with an armful of orchids. She stepped forward and bent down to smell the blossoms.
And immediately pulled back, screaming, as a bee stung her. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
Marva closed her eyes and groaned. So much for food. H - E - double hockey sticks! She knew she should have saved a couple of the fish from this morning.
Marty began laughing from his position as he watched Shannon clutch her nose and run around in circles. Lesbians had no clue how to get a woman. He never had a problem. Visa was accepted everywhere he wanted to be.
* * *
Ryan didn't reappear in camp until that evening. The hungry castaways sat around the campfire wishing their hunter/gatherer and Shannon would kiss and make up. Marty, especially, hoped they would be naked at the time.
Joe and Dawn had returned to camp early in the evening, after being conspicuously absent all day. Pete, the cameraman, had come back with them, smoking a cigarette like it was his last, best friend.
Shannon stared at Dawn. Something was different with Farm Girl. Something had changed. Something significant.
Someone had gotten some today. And it wasn't her!
If only she weren't mad at Ryan, she would tackle the object of her affection and give Rita and Bender a coronary. It would also be instructional for Rita. She had never heard what a real orgasm sounded like.
Ryan approached Shannon cautiously, much like small children do Michael Jackson. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," Shannon managed.
"You feeling better?"
Shannon rubbed the tip of her nose. The stinging had stopped earlier in the day when Arturo had made a paste of ground eucalyptus leaves and spread it over her face. Fortunately, she had washed it off before their non-dinner. "I am. Thanks."
This wasn't going so badly, after all. Ryan was relieved. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the gift that she and Tiffany had crafted for Shannon. "This is for you."
Oh, yeah, Ryan is definitely getting laid tonight, Shannon thought happily. She accepted the gift and removed its leafy wrapping. Nestled inside the greenery was a beautiful, carved, shell hair comb. "A comb? A comb!" she shrieked. "You chop off my hair, and you give me a comb!" No, Ryan is definitely not getting laid tonight.
"I thought it'd look pretty in your hair. You can use it as a hairpin … as your hair grows out again!" Ryan was backpedaling on the sand. Shannon had a murderous look in her eyes. Ryan had seen it once before, while studying the tapes of one of Clinton's speeches. It was the look he gave the aide who snatched away his Big Mac as he was going on stage. They never found his body. Though they had replaced him with a fairly lifelike clone. The aide, not the president. Ryan scratched her head. Actually, the other would explain quite a few things.
She didn't have time to continue contemplating this new conspiracy, as Shannon was continuing to advance on her.
"Shannon, sweetie, honey, darling," Ryan began throwing out all the endearments she had reserved for Tiffany all these years, "I'm really sorry about your hair. It was an accident, I swear. I was only trying to save you."
Shannon stopped her advance. Maybe she was being a bit irrational about this. Could this all be the product of PMS? She was feeling a little bloated.
Ryan sighed in relief. It worked. Tiffany would be her role model for all future dealings with Shannon. "It looks really, really sexy, actually."
That's what she needed to hear! Shannon's hand went to her hair and fluffed it a bit. "You think?"
"Oh, yeah," Ryan groaned. "Although, I'd like you bald."
The moment was shattered.
Shannon's eyes narrowed. "You're such a man!" she spat.
"I am not!" Ryan protested. "That's just an ugly rumor the ATF started that time I outsmarted them. Like Janet Reno has any room to talk!"
"Argh!" Shannon stomped off.
* * *
Marva found Ryan sulking in the jungle. She watched as the survivalist spoke softly to her knife. At least, it looked like she was talking to her knife. Marva hoped she was mistaken. "Ryan …"
"Go away." Ryan settled further back against the tree. She knew she never should have come out of the Kentucky woods. She should have stayed where she was safe. Instead, she had been enticed out of the tranquility she knew, all for the love of a few dead presidents. And they weren't even her favorites. Benjamin Franklin was a far better inventor than a commander-in-chief.
"It's going to be all right."
"She hates me, Marva." On the ground, Ryan scratched out her name and Shannon's, intertwined.
"No, she doesn't hate you." No one could look that turned on 24/7 and hate the object of her desire. "She just needs you to go that final step." At Ryan's confused look, she continued, "You need to serenade her."
"You mean sing?"
"She needs to hear you," Marva pointed out reasonably.
"What should I sing?"
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "A love song. You do know a love song, don't you?"
Ryan rested her hand on her chin, mentally going through the vocal selections on the jukebox at Archie's Grub and Tackle, one of the better eating establishments in Kentucky. "To All The Girls I've Loved Before?"
"Never Make A Pretty Woman Your Wife?"
"If You Can't Be With The One You Love, Love The One You're With?"
"Okay, maybe singing isn't the way to go." Apparently a romantic survivalist was as much an oxymoron as military intelligence, educational standards and compassionate conservatism.
Ryan kept thinking. She had to win Shannon back. And, if it took singing to do it … she was going to come up with just the perfect song.
And then, like the runs after a trip to Mexico, it came to her in a blinding, ferocious flash.
"Come on, Marva. I've got some wooing to do."
* * *
As everyone settled down to go to sleep, a clear alto was heard drifting on the night breeze.
"I flew off to the wild blue yonder
'Cause I had a dream and I had to go
I'm still filled with a sense of wonder
From the love I shared with a green eyed girl
Lips as sweet as mountain honey
A body warm as homemade wine
But we had no dreams and no means for money
But she had me just any time
Take me back if just in memory
Fill my cup again with joy
The fire still burns in the ol' rock chimney
And I still burn for that green eyed girl"
Shannon sighed. Maybe she could get used to short hair. It was easier to care for. Didn't get sticky on her neck in the jungle heat. Had more body.
No matter what, she could definitely get used to a certain loopy survivalist.
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.
Visit the Castaway website at http://www.angelfire.com/art/atcreation/castaway/index.html
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