LAST EDITED ON 08-22-01 AT 01:52 PM (EST)

BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 11 - "Nonsense and No Sensibility"

Previously on BlowsVivor………

Shucks. I don’t have the patience for a recap. If you don’t know what’s happened to date, you shouldn’t be here. Do yourself a favor and go back and gander dabo’s “The Birds”. It’s a rip-roaring read about blue chickens (were they on Viagra?), a freak electrical discharge, dancing by Dangerkitty, a RudyRules immunity victory, a tweetie-bird, an owl, a rabbit, food tenders, egg catapulting, broth, honey, bees, stings, drugs, ballots and bye bye Surviorist. There’s a lot I’ve left out but hey, I’m not writing two episodes here.

Before we start, I need to get a few things off my chest. Foremost is the matter of advertisements. There aren’t any in this episode. Dear old Auntie back home (that’s how BBC television is affectionately known in the UK in case you’re wondering) doesn’t have them. They manage to survive because each household, by law, has to pay a license fee each year of about $150 that in turn funds their programs. OK, so that’s not strictly relevant. My point is that being a foreigner and all - that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it - I’d plead ignorance on the advertising. A total fabrication to be sure given I work in the field but there’s only so much it I can take. So if you’re expecting commercials, I guess I’m the bearer of bad tidings.

Second subject regards animals. I tried. Honestly I did. But Mr. PlayBunny just refused to be cooperative and so for this episode at least, he’s done a disappearing act. It sucks, but let’s just say I have a problem with rabbits unless they’re saddle in stew. The owl isn’t around either – she’s back on Monkey Island taking a breather. Better news is that SnoopySucks and WoodstockBites do feature albeit in cameos. I got so engrossed in the people thing I rather ran out of material by the time I got round to them. I know, I know, what a copout you’re thinking. Terribly sorry about that chaps and chapesses. If you feel like reporting me to PETA for animal neglect, I guess I deserve it.

Third, you won’t be meeting the Dashwoods whatever the title of this episode suggests. I suppose at a stretch I could have made Outfrontgirl out as Elinor and molded GT or DK into Marianne, but would you really buy it? Nope. The best I can do is to paraphrase a passage from the book in the hope what follows is not viewed in the same vein.

“How spriteless, how tame was GG’s manner in writing this. I felt for my fellow SBers most severely. Yet they bore it with so much composure, they seemed scarcely to notice it. I could hardly keep my seat. To hear those beautiful lines from previous episodes which have frequently almost driven me wild, pronounced with such impenetrable calmness, such dreadful indifference!

One last thing. An acknowledgement on my part is long overdue to Outfrontgirl for Episode 9. I really liked it, honest! So to make it up to her, I humbly dedicate “Nonsense and No Sensibility” to her. And to beg her forgiveness for what I’m about to do with her character – or not!

Thanks for listening.

Here we go then.

DAY 31

Empty spaces – what are we waiting for
Abandoned places – I guess we know the score
On and on – does anybody know what we are looking for?

The sun, or some alternate crappy light source, announces itself on the BlowsVivor set. For some strange reason however, the close up shot of the DAW’s domicile reveals nothing but an empty shelter and the incessant creaking of a nearby wood plank. (The gust of wind generated, of course, by the huge fan contraption thingy leftover from Immunity Challenge #6 – everything is recycled on this show including previous authors’ ideas that may be pilfered for this episode). Much like the river too, which, in fact, is nothing more than industrial sewage diverted through on its way to the treatment works.

The cameramen, who haven’t been paid in over a fortnight, and whose expressions are getting more gormless by the day, have just about had enough. Were it not for the computer chips surgically implanted into the base of their necks – procured at rack rate from Fox and with ‘Property of The X-Files’ and ‘Faulty’ stamped in the back – they might have already contacted their union to take strike action against the producers. That, or developments on the show leaked to the highest tabloid bidder under the guise of ‘Cash For Questions’. Said chip apparently is able to detect untoward thinking along these parameters. Activating them causes severe bouts of insanity and delirium, which eventually becomes permanent. Though it has never been substantiated, there is an increasing belief within the media ranks that that an individual known as Uncle Cameraman was thrust into the public limelight as a chilling example of what could happen to those who rebel. Warning signs include: obsession with taking a group of individuals and ranking them haphazardly in boot order and uttering the words “Don’t believe me, I don’t care”. The outcome is ridicule, humiliation and a free 10-day package at the Homer Simpson Clinic, an institution that treats stupidity and credulity disorders. Their slogan reads: Read Our Lips. No new…….Doh!

After a few minutes of panning, the cameramen finally locate the remaining five members of the DAW tribe. They are all ensconced in a far corner of what remains of the chicken coop in various degrees of slumber. DK is thrusting her arms and legs about with gusto, possibly reenacting a victorious martial arts lesson in far-flung San Diego that was caused by an uncouth dojo. Icecat’s mouth appears rather puffy, as if something is lodged in it. George Tirebiter is lovingly clutching her soapbox – newly erected from the boxes left behind from the last IC. Outfrontgirl is mumbling something in her sleep about pot, pots, plots, plants or pans. Rudyrules is snoring like nobody’s business and sporting a wide grin. SnoopySucks is sprawled on his back whining. WoodstockBites is awake and pecking at something in the slimy muck. He also happens to be the only bird in sight. The Ultimate Survivor Chicken™, spared by the lightning storm induced by DK’s tub-thumping to an Aretha Franklin/Carly Simon/Whitney Houston/Cindi Lauper…(oh I give up) ditty, is fowla-non-grata.

The AM tech posse decide to make the most of this relative inactivity and get some food in ahead of an undoubtedly arduous day of filming. Each crewmember takes out a food item from their knapsacks and tosses it into a forming pile. An apple, a Mars Bar, a box of Kellog’s Special K, Kel Gleason endorsed Biltong, a slice of dog chow pizza and a bag of peanuts with the superfluous message ‘Contains nuts’ printed on the packet. Duh. Like irons which come with the warning ‘Do not use directly on skin’ or apple pies from McDonalds which caution you that the ‘filling is hot’. Lawsuit anyone?

Just as the breakfast-free-for-all is about to begin, some stirring in the coop alerts the crew. They quickly pick up their equipment to resume filming.

Icecat wakes up, immediately turns to his side, unaware of George Tirebiter’s nearby presence, and proceeds to retch. Blue feathers come spewing out of his mouth and onto George. Eventually, the heaving stops. Icecat then lets out an almighty scream, jolting everyone except RudyRules out of their REM. At the exact same moment, the lighting goes off and the abandoned movie lot is enveloped in total darkness. RudyRules who, due to age, is more hard of hearing, briefly opens his eyes, concludes that it’s still nighttime and that SnoopySucks is merely howling at the moon, and quickly falls back to sleep. Some of the filming crew’s camera lenses shatter.

Another hero - another mindless crime
Behind the curtain in the pantomime
Hold the line – does anybody want to take it anymore

Icecat: OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

Outfrontgirl: What the hell? Hey, I can’t see.

Dangerkitty: I’m blind!

George Tirebiter: ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN. I’m sure there is a perfectly rational explanation. Wtf? I’m covered in….<feels around>…feathers.

Outfrontgirl: We’re in a space vortex perchance?

GT: Don’t be harebrained. Everybody knows that in space no one can hear you scream. If we were, my eardrums would not be aching right now. Damn you, Icecat. That was sooo uncalled for. How dare you disturb my reverie? I was having the best dream in ages, thanks to the Acapulco Gold I smoked last night. GG was in his kilt garb peeling grapes for me and we were happy palavering. How can you do this to me? How….

George Tirebiter filled with rage, locates her soapbox, picks it up and promptly hurls it in the vicinity of Icecat’s voice.

GT: Take that you frigid feline!!

The soapbox apparently misses its target and crashes terra firma. {sound of wood splintering}. GT winces.

GT: Now look what you made me do. Blast! How can I be a true orator now? Just you wait you poor excuse of an Arctic animal. There is more than one way to skin a cat.

Icecat: I’m sorry GT. I just lost it. Somebody stuffed chicken feathers into my mouth last night.

GT: And you threw them up all over me! You’re so lucky I can’t see you right now, or else I’ll be stuffing my FIST into your mouth.

Icecat: Please GT. Can’t you see I’m traumatized?

Outfrontgirl: Actually Icecat, I must point out that that was a poor choice of words. Nobody can see anything right now. However, I must profess intrigue over those feathers being put into your mouth.

GT: That’s right OFG. We can’t see diddly squat. Although when I’m finished with Icecat, he WILL be traumatized.

Icecat: For all I know, you are the one responsible.

GT: Oh, that’s good. Keep digging that grave for yourself.

Dangerkitty: Please people. Let’s be civilized. Love all around m’kay? I don’t hear RudyRules.

Outfrontgirl: I can hear his snoring. Wait a moment.

OFG stretches out for a while before her hand comes to rest on what feels like flesh. Had she bothered to trace the outline of the body part, she might not have proceeded to give the hitherto unknown area a firm squeeze. But too late. A startled Rudy just about leaps into the air.

RudyRules: Eh? Which one you boffins were copping a feel of my buttock? And why is it pitch black?

Outfrontgirl: Oh, Rudy, forgive me. We just wanted to make sure everyone was OK and you were the only one unaccounted for.

RudyRules: I didn’t say I didn’t like it Outfrontgirl. In fact, it was most edifying.

Outfrontgirl: Uh, Rudy, I’m not sure we should take this conversation any further.

RudyRules: Eh? Oh well. Hey, where is my girl?

RR whistles and SnoopySucks barks affirmation from some indeterminable distance. Ordinarily she would have picked up the scent and set off towards her master, but alas, the freak lightning strike from yesterday contrived to singe her nasal hairs and affect her olfactory senses. She whimpers.

RudyRules: Oh, my poor baby. Must be afraid of the dark. Stay where you are girl! I’ll figure out a way to rescue you.

With the aid of time-lapse photography, a couple of hours in actuality is made to look like only several minutes have passed by. This editorial decision is made for the following reasons:

Ø The viewing audience doesn’t exactly want to be looking at a black screen for such a long period of time.

Ø Test figures reveal that you CAN listen to too much of GT’s spiel. The fact that she was in such an agitated state undoubtedly exacerbated matters.

Ø The author of this episode realized that filling two hours of inane conversation isn’t going to wash.

Ø Three letters - BRB

Anyway, the on-set generator finally starts up. A godly voice is heard.

AyaProbe: And AyaProbe says, “Let There Be Light.”

And wouldn’t you know it, an almost blinding light swathes the BlowsVivor stage. The DAWs shield their eyes in unison. AyaProbe has no such problems seeing as how he’s got a pair of sunglasses on.

AyaProbe: <laughing> The future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.

Icecat: Turn it down a notch will ‘ya. I’m going blind.

GT: Yeah, what the ignoramus said.

Dangerkitty: This cannot be good for my complexion.

AyaProbe: Give it a few moments. And stop your moaning. Be thankful that we’ve got the lighting back.

Outfrontgirl: What happened?

AyaProbe relates the sorry tale about how BlowsVivor was supposed to be finished by now and that the pennywise pencil pushers upstairs had established a completion date, upon which the timer for the power supply on the closed set would expire. He goes on to admonish the previous episode writers for wreaking havoc with the schedule and run the risk of waning interest from viewers who don’t have a huge attention span…blah, blah, and who would rather spend their valuable time debating the intrigue and nuances of Love Cruise. AyaProbe further explains that the irate executive producer had to call in a favor with the governor of California to ensure compliance of the local electricity board.

AyaProbe: In all honesty, it is a regular occurrence. Why do you think that this state has a power shortage? It’s because of Hollywood. Money talks and bullshit walks. Nothing can get in the way of stardom. Here endenth the lesson.

Icecat: Actually, I have been working on a blueprint to solve the problem. Since it could be revolutionary, I will not divulge all the details other than to say that it involves isotopes, pulleys and rats.

GT: Tell somebody who cares.

Outfrontgirl: Sounds like an invitation to spoil, Ice. A rodent mechanical device I’m thinking.

AyaProbe: Enough of that – we’re not interested. Now, GT and Icecat, would you care to enlighten us about the bickering we caught on the sound mics earlier. I will not tolerate violence of any sort. <GT snorts>. Shut it GT, otherwise you’ll be spending your remaining hours in a trough. What is all the fuss about?

Outfrontgirl raises an eyebrow at AyaProbe’s apparent slip and the inference that GT could soon be on her way. She keeps quiet and immediately starts concocting a potentially dastardly plan. Nobody else seems to have picked up on it; certainly not GT, who launches a tirade at Icecat once more. Clearly getting more heated by the minute, she shapes to launch at Icecat until Dangerkitty nonchalantly intervenes and, with minimum effort, restrains George in a single-handed vice-like grip. Were a cigar available, no doubt she would be puffing it for added effect. RudyRules pays little notice, instead choosing to pet SnoopySucks who has sidled up to her master, happy at their reunion.

SnoopySucks: Woof! Ruff, ruff! {Alright, now that’s entertainment! And I thought I was the only bitch around here.}

GT: <wriggling> Let go of me!!!

Dangerkitty: You need to calm down GT. You’re only making yourself an easy option to be voted off next with all this behavior. Wouldn’t you rather channel your energy into trying to win the reward and immunity challenges?

GT processes Dangerkitty’s comments for a few seconds. Torn between rearranging Icecat’s face and letting her emotions seal her downfall, she eventually comes round to logic and sighs.

GT: OK, I’ll get myself together. Nothing that a heady brew and a tug of nature’s finest weed couldn’t cure in any case.

Outfrontgirl: <eagerly> I’ll go work on that right away. I need my morning surge anyway.

Dangerkitty releases GT, who gives her a withering stare. Icecat looks relieved but maintains a wary distance. RudyRules tutts.

AyaProbe: Right then. Before you saunter off, two things. First, I cannot overemphasize that brawls will lead to instant ejection. Superman will personally come over and give you a kick in the rear end from here to Monkey Island. Finger pointing, waving and jabbing, however, is fine. As is slaughtering any pigs you come across – good luck with that one – and catching grasshoppers. So too placing your hands in hot coals and claiming at a later time you have found God. Then there is…………

AyaProbe trails off into a merry trance. The DAWs are rather bemused. Looking on, Outfontgirl’s appetite is whetted by the imminent state of similar contentment she and GT will soon be experiencing with their bong. She makes a mental note to ask AyaProbe later how he manages to reach nirvana without the aid of hallucinogens.

SnoopySucks gives a loud bark that brings AyaProbe down from his higher plain.

AyaProbe: Where was I? Oh, the second matter concerns your health. The pallid and emaciated features on all of you suggest malnourishment and the producers have made it known that we want a perky bunch still with flesh on their bones come the final episode. Gives the impression that you’re glad to be here and have enjoyed every bit of it. Those powerbars you have isn’t going to suffice. To that end, we have arranged for a nutritionist to prepare an energy boost beverage for you to consume. I’ll bring it to the next RC.

RudyRules: Whatever.

Icecat: Fine by me. I’ll try anything once. Of course, I’ll need the nutritional information figures too so I can break them down and calculate optimum fuel thresholds.

GT: Sounds dodgy. Besides, I’m fit enough as it is.

Outfrontgirl: <excitedly> Does it have mind-altering properties?

Dangerkitty: Aw, Aya, can’t I just stick with Outfrontgirl’s broth from yesterday? It makes me feel so happy. Happy, happy, happy, happy, hyper, happy, happy!!!!!!!

AyaProbe: No. Whether it contains chemicals or tastes foul is of no consequence. You’ll drink what you’re given and you’ll bloody like it. Now…

Something stirs in AyaProbe’s trousers. He reaches down and whips out his…………….

……………cellular Swiss army knife set on vibrate mode (what were you thinking?) He looks at the communiqué on the display, pulls a face and fiddles with the corkscrew mechanism to end the message.

AyaProbe: I’ve been summoned. Now make like diarrhea and run. Go on, scram! Except you Icecat. A word por favor.

The show must go on
The show must go on
Inside my heart is breaking
My makeup may be flaking
But my smile still stays on

The others file off back towards DAW camp. George Tirebiter looks forlornly at her broken soapbox on the way. Dangerkitty is heard in the distance saying, “well, on the bright side we have more firewood”, prompting another scowl from GT. Outfrontgirl leaps across the set – clearly she is a woman on a mission. In contrast, RudyRules and SnoopySucks adopt a leisurely stroll, in a fashion, well, much like a man walking his dog really.

AyaProbe: <pulling Icecat aside> Have you got a death wish or something? I mean, you’ve tried it once already and failed. What made you think you could get away with it this time?

Icecat: <stuttering> I..I..well…um….You know I can’t take it anymore. I had to make a run for it and seeing that chicken escape to freedom, I just welled up. You hadn’t mended the broken fence and it was practically an open invitation. So last night I enlarged the gap to fit through and went for it.

AyaProbe: <sighs> No one solves anything by running away.

Icecat: The Von Trapps did.

AyaProbe: Don’t get smart. Anyway, I gather her minions stopped you at the outer OUTER perimeter. A stroke of genius, actually. She knew you’d make a second attempt at fleeing and so erected a false barrier to give the impression that once you’d negotiated the fence you were home and hosed. You were tortured later, right?

===========================================================================

Flashback Sequence

The Borg collective surround him. An incredibly fierce spotlight pours down on the startled victim who falls to his knees. As is so often the case, the victim refuses to believe he has been caught. He gets up onto his feet and makes a dash for a perceived opening in the Borg barrier. Too late. A presence looms up behind him. With force and alacrity, an arm slices across his upper body sending him crashing back down to the ground. It is all over in a few seconds. Surrender.

#4984231: Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.

Icecat shrieks as the half-human, half-cybernetic beings move in en masse. He passes out.

Sometime later, a semi-conscious Icecat is dragged into an undisclosed room. He can’t see very clearly but his eyes are still able to register metal. And gray. Lots of gray. An order is given to lie him down. Immediately, mechanical hands lift him unceremoniously onto a cold slab of sorts. He is then bound in rope.

Slap! He feels the sting in his face. The same chilling voice commands him to wake up. When he does, the terror he is already feeling is increased many-fold. Deep down though, he knew it would come to this as soon as he was caught. A face-to-face meeting with the Evil Overlord.

Kismet.

Icecat: But you died.

Kismet: True evil never dies. You were warned of the dire consequences on the previous occasion. Now you pay the price.

Kismet reaches out to push a button. A red laser beam targets onto the end of the slab and cuts straight through, either side of Icecat’s spread-eagled feet and legs. Slowly but surely it moves it way up towards his groin. The sound of metal being cut alerts Icecat. Unable to move, he rolls his eyes far enough down to appreciate the severity of the situation. Soon he will be clinically bisected and cease to exist. What to do?

Icecat: Do you expect me to talk?

Kismet: No Icecat, I expect you to DIE! <nefarious laughter>

The laser beam continues its ascent; for Icecat, almost to the point of no return. His mind races wildly. Desperation. No choice. One last card to play.

Icecat: No! Please! I’ll do anything! I’ve learnt my lesson! I swear on the shelf life of my Catscan and all my other video equipment that it will never happen again! Obsolete! For the love of all that’s technology! Spare me!

In his torment, Icecat does not feel the needle of a syringe being plunged into his neck.

And then, nothing.

===========================================================================

Whatever happens I’ll leave it all to chance
Another heartache another failed romance
On and on – does anybody know what we are living for?

Icecat: I don’t want to talk about it.

AyaProbe: Well, I don’t need the details. Kismet told me it would be a life-altering experience for you anyway.

Icecat: Let’s just say I never want to go through something like that again. How’d I end up back in the chicken coop?

AyaProbe: No idea. What I can tell you is that whilst you were out cold, we were the ones responsible for stuffing your mouth. By the way, the runaway chicken was caught and skinned - that’s where the feathers came from. Much like you, its escape through the fence proved illusory. According to Kismet, you were strategically placed next to GT to maximize the likelihood you would discharge the feathers over her upon waking. Our psychological tests suggested that she would become enraged with you and seek retribution. Getting snappish with the others was a considerable bonus. FYI, the powers that be have decreed that she will not win BlowsVivor. We are merely doing what’s necessary to make it an eventuality. Things have already progressed better than we hoped. Creating a scene in front of her tribe mates, the electricity conveniently shutting off, breaking her soapbox.

Icecat: Why? If it ever gets out the show is rigged, you’re in one helluva bind.

AyaProbe: And who’s going to tell exactly? Other than the producers, Kismet, myself and you, nobody else knows of our scheme. You obviously know what’s good for you, right? <cough><mutter> You want to relive last night?

Icecat: I’m catching your drift.

AyaProbe: Good. Come tribal council you’ll do the right thing, of course. Now buzz off. I’m late for Kismet.

I guess I’m learning – I must be warmer now
I’ll soon be turning around the corner now
Outside the dawn is breaking
But inside in the dark I’m aching to be free

The show must go on
The show must go on – yeah
Inside my heart is breaking
My makeup may be flaking
But my smile still stays on

Icecat makes his way back to DAW camp mulling over AyaProbe’s revelation. It is clear what he must do now, but he can’t help thinking that something is still amiss. They want GT off, fine - he can be as compliant as the next person. The trouble is, does that also mean by extension they have their idea of the winner and worse yet, that it could be him? I never wanted any of this, Icecat argues. I don’t want a stinking prize and end up as their promotional toy boy. What if they make me shed my locks, keeping up appearances and all that? My place should be in an editing suite, analyzing video caps and doctoring photos. I’m a visual expert, a guru for chrissakes. How can they fail to appreciate such genius? Icecat’s heart is heavy indeed.

Meanwhile…………

AyaProbe steps into the trailer. Kismet is humming Everybody Wants To Rule The World, popping cherries into her mouth.

Kismet: You’re late.

AyaProbe: Sorry, had to tie up loose ends with Icecat.

Kismet: Not good enough. I’m fining you a 1/3 of your wages.

AyaProbe: <disbelievingly> Why?

Kismet: Because I can. Now, is that other matter coming to a head?

AyaProbe: It’s being taken care of as we speak.

Kismet: Good. And no delays, or else.

AyaProbe: Yes ma’am. Incidentally, whatever you did to Icecat last night seems to have done the trick.

Kismet: As if there ever was any doubt. Originally, I was going to gag and strap him up before letting Napoleon have his way with him.

AyaProbe: Your wild boar?

Kismet: He’s got more brains then you can conceive. A ruthless mind to boot. I taught him everything he knows. Mark my words; one day he’ll make a fine dictator. I’ve also got him a companion who’ll do the dirty work and killing. A real meat eater. Likes it rare and bloody.

AyaProbe: Oh?

Kismet: Hannibal. Anyway, I’m not done with Icecat yet. One more little reminder just to be sure.

AyaProbe: <gulps> Uh-huh. Can I be excused now?

Kismet: Consider yourself dismissed.

AyaProbe exits. Kismet switches on her stereo and sings along to Wicked Game. She resumes gorging on cherries.

Back at DAW Camp………

George Tirebiter and Outfrontgirl have finished their ‘breakfast’ and are ‘in the zone’. RudyRules announces that he and SnoopySucks are off to find some solitude on Verizon Hill over yonder but will BRB. GT laughs and informs him she won’t be holding her breath. Outfrontgirl tells him to be careful and not get distracted by several posts along the way. RudyRules utters his stereotypical “Eh?” and trudges off with trusty sidekick in tow.

Dangerkitty is still pretty wired. After the previous episode, Outfrontgirl expressed reservations about giving her any brew from this morning’s batch. Ultimately she relents, in part due to Dangerkitty’s incessant hovering but mostly because it makes her a provider, and that is always a good thing to be in shows like this apparently. DK gets one cup, but no more.

Icecat, in melancholy mood, asks the women if they mind him singing for a while and gets no protests. He rummages around for the broken guitar left behind by Surviorist, then proceeds to pluck sufficient hairs of suitable length from his considerable mane. After binding the locks to the necessary tensile strength and attaching them accordingly, he begins to strum his stuff. Unfortunately, at first go, the improvised strings produce a far from perfect twang. An intense session of tweaking and reverberation analysis yields positive results. It’s still not ideal, but heck, this is a crappy TV set, not Carnegie Hall. That sorted, he racks his brain for a song title apropos to recent events, if not quite the lyrics. Though smoking a few cigarettes and downing copious amounts of alcohol would definitely have helped in altering his voice to the right tone, he makes do and starts wailing:

Who! Whala!
Darling you gotta let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I’ll be here to till the end of time
So c’mon and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

It’s always tease tease tease
You’re happy when I’m on my knees
One day is fine the next is black
So if you want me off your back
Well c’mon and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

An energetic Dangerkitty is clearly enjoying this. She starts thrashing, moshing, whatever you call it.

Outfrontgirl: Quick GT, take cover! DK’s dancing and if last time is anything to go by, I predict lightning WILL strike in the same place twice.

GT and Outfrontgirl give DK a wide berth. Nothing happens as Icecat continues singing.

Should or stay or should I go now?
Should or stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
If I stay it will be double
So c’mon and let me know
Should I cool it or should I blow?

The indecisions bugging me
If you don’t want me set me free
Exactly whom I’m supposed to be
Don’t you know which clothes even fit me?
C’mon and let me know
Should or stay or should I go?
Aough! Split!

Should or stay or should I go now?
Should or stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
If I stay it will be double
So you gotta let me know
Should I cool it or should I blow?

Should or stay or should I go now?
Should or stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
If I stay it will be double
So you gotta let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

GT and Outfrontgirl come out from behind the shelter. She apologizes to GT for wrongly predicting a lightning storm. She chastises herself for failing to remember that that was caused by DK singing AND dancing.

Dangerkitty: Kewl!! Riff! Riff!

GT: Not bad, even if you ain’t no Sid Vicious.

Dangerkitty: That’s not by the Sex Pistols, George.

GT: Right, tell somebody who gives a flying fig.

Outfrontgirl: <tries to be enthusiastic> Punk rock rules! I do prefer something less grating mind.

Icecat: Well, let’s see. This sort of reflects on the BlowsVivor experience…..

(Note: This is where the author takes a few liberties. And because I like this song, dammit.)

Stood still on a highway
With a face I knew like my own reflected in the window
Well she walked up to my quarter light and bent down real slow
A fearful pressure paralyzed me in the shadows.

She said: “Son, what are you doing here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave”
I said: “Mama, I come to the valley of the rich myself to sell”
She said: “Son, this is the road to hell

On your journey ‘cross the wilderness from the desert to the well
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell”

Well I’m standing by the river but the water doesn’t flow
It boils with every poison you can think of
Then I’m underneath the streetlights but the light of joy I know
Scared beyond belief way down in the shadows

And the perverted fear of violence chokes a smile on every face
And common sense is ringing out the bells
This ain’t no technological breakdown
Oh no, this is the road to hell

And all the roads jam up with credit and there’s nothing you can do
It’s all just bits of paper flying away from you
Look out world, take a good look what comes dawn here
You must learn this lesson fast and learn it well
This ain’t no upwardly mobile freeway
Oh no, this is the road, this is the road, this is the road to hell.

As soon as he song finishes, the following happens (in slow motion for enhancement):

Icecat rises.
He lurches a few steps.
He stumbles.
His cheeks flush.
His eyes widen.
His stomach churns.
He gags.
He gapes.
He up-chucks a cherry stone.
Next, a couple.
Followed by a few more.
Until the dénouement.
An almighty heave, then a torrent of semi-digested cherries enough to fill a pool.
Icecat collapses.

Depraved laughter from a trailer elsewhere.

Dangerkitty: Gross!

GT: Lardass. (oops, wrong movie)

Outfrontgirl: Something he ate? Definitely not chunks or diced carrots. Who’s going to clear up this mess?

GT: We’ll bury it as soon as SnoopySucks gets back and digs us a hole.

Outfrontgirl: I suppose, but what about the smell in the meantime? Kind of makes me wish Pepe was still here. We should also at least cover it up.

GT: I vote that DK traipse over to the old Western set and see what she can rustle up.

Outfrontgirl: I second the motion.

GT: <grinning>The psychedelic majority has spoken.

Dangerkitty: Sure. I’m just full of boundless energy. Away I go then.

With that, Dangerkitty prances off, leaving George Tirebiter and Outfrontgirl to their own devices, a conked out Icecat excepted.

GT: Tell me who my idea of the next to go is.

Outfrontgirl: Well, Icecat I imagine, after the contretemps earlier. Is that wise?

GT: Listen Outfrontgirl, sometimes you just have to go with your gut. You and I are already a strong voting bloc and I figure that DK is cherry-ripe for the picking, pardon the pun, vis-à-vis her increasing dependency on your remedial infusion. She’s clueless as to the recipe and a subtle reminder in that direction will be more than adequate. You get to protect your California alliance and we get an omnipotent Estrogen triumvirate to boot. How’s that grab you?

Outfrontgirl: <nodding> I like it a lot. Ditch Icecat, then RudyRules and lastly finish off DK leaving you and me as the final two. I suppose there is the danger of one of them landing immunity, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

GT: Precisely. Icecat and RudyRules are interchangeable, though the old codger is less of a threat to us. Ergo, Icecat goes first. He deserves to after all his shenanigans. I don’t care how good-looking he is.

Outfrontgirl: What about those feathers though? I can’t work out who was responsible.

GT: An irrelevance. I like you Outfrontgirl, but sometimes you just take the minutiae too far.

Later…..

Dangerkitty returns from her visit to the Old Western set in jovial mood carrying a boxful of bric-a-brac.

Dangerkitty: Look at all the great stuff I found!

Well, ‘great’ would be stretching matters somewhat. Out of the box comes:

A cactus.
Part of a broken sign that reads ‘Burlesque’
A sombrero.
Indian war paint.
A partially used bar of soap.
Tumbleweed.
A pistol.

Outfrontgirl: Very eclectic, DK, but what exactly are we supposed to do with all this?

GT: Keep the tumbleweed. It may be useful as an emergency in case we run out of the Acapulco Gold.

Outfrontgirl: I’m not following.

GT: Well it’s weed of some sort isn’t it? Good enough for me. Who knows, we may discover it has hitherto unknown properties.

Outfrontgirl: I doubt it, but okay. Does the pistol fire? <inspecting> Oh, the cock’s jammed and it’s much too rusty to be of any good.

Dangerkitty: Maybe RudyRules can have a look at it, being antiquated and all. As for the sign, I thought I could use it in a jocular manner. That other show had Rudy’s Diner. We can have DK’s Burlesque Parlor.

Outfrontgirl: Why not? We could use some joie-de-vivre around here.

GT: Just so we’re clear, I will not be dressing up in frocks and adopting suggestive poses to entertain the masses. I don’t do leering. I don’t do gamboling.

Dangerkitty: I’ve got enough in me for all three of us. I thought I might put on a show for Icecat when he’s feeling better. I dare say RudyRules would enjoy it too.

GT: Currying favor are we?

Dangerkitty: Oh, no. I’m just in such high spirits. Might as well share the good vibes. I think I’ll go and decorate the sign now.

GT: You do that. Pass that sombrero will you?

And so DK busies away embellishing her sign, GT takes a nap, Outfrontgirl pops out to the herbal patch to gather ye rosebuds blah, blah. Much to her delight, several new varieties have magically sprung up overnight, though how that is remotely possible on such infertile soil will have to be considered on another day. She selects sprigs and leaves of Astralagus, Bilberry, Ginkgo, Kava Kava, Stinging Nettle, Burdock Root, Golden Seal, Horse Chestnut, St. John’s Wort, Cat’s Claw, Hawthorn, Milk Thistle and Valerian (that should about cover it). On a whim, she finely chops the collected flora, adds in some of rice and water to form a paste. Not happy with the consistency, she adds a handful of chicken feed, miso soup powder and sparingly, a pinch of the Acopulco Gold to the mixture and declares it a success. She starts cooking them.

The combined aromas that drift up from the pan brings Icecat round quicker than any smelling salts would. Even DK, so engrossed in doing up her sign, is compelled to lift her head and nod approval. Strangely, GT remains unaffected. She continues to doze albeit her breathing is noticeably heavier. The noxious fumes from the regurgitated cherries are totally masked. Outfrontgirl smirks and thinks to herself that this will definitely score big points.

Icecat: Wow, OFG. That smells great even if I’m not in the mood to eat.

Outfrontgirl: Five more minutes and they’ll be done.

Icecat takes a quick glance at the cherries and curses Kismet. She’s not going to let him forget is she?

RudyRules returns with SnoopySucks and tree mail. Outfrontgirl wakes GT up, gently.

RudyRules: <reading aloud>
A hectic time you’ve had so far
No chance to chill
And reach the stars.
You need a breather
Some peace of mind
An inner calm
Of a better kind
So here’s the chance to leave it all behind
To be alone, you seek, you’ll find

GT and Outfrontgirl: A trip!

Icecat: That’s too obvious. I’m thinking solitary confinement in jail or something.

Outfrontgirl: Hmm, you’re right. Swimming with dolphins? Yoga?

RudyRules: Well, if it involves relaxing, I’m not going to complain.

So before setting off, the DAWs dig into Outfrontgirl’s herbal rice cakes/patties. And it truly is a wonderful feast. George Tirebiter pronounces it excellent. “Now I can have my weed and eat it too”, she says. Icecat, who originally didn’t have much of an appetite, is nevertheless blown away by the burst of herb flavors. Dangerkitty wolfs them down hungrily. RudyRules isn’t quite so thrilled – too pungent he declares – but is quietly impressed with Outfrontgirl’s resourcefulness.

End of Part 1. Episode 11 plays to a finish tomorrow......