LAST EDITED ON 08-22-01 AT 05:56 PM (EST)BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 11 - "Nonsense and No Sensibility" - The Conclusion
DAY 31 (continued)
My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies
Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die
I can fly – my friends
The DAWs arrive at a location which has been done up all New Age. Mats awash with colors and shapes of a kaleidoscope cover the floor. Hippy memorabilia and images of the swinging 60s (or is it swinging 70s - I forget) adorn the walls. Incense sticks burn off jasmine fumes and wind chimes gently sway to and fro. Funky Hindu music plays in the background. And in the center lies five human sized tanks filled with water. AyaProbe greets the tribe dressed in bell-bottoms, a tie-dye T-shirt, flared jacket, bandana, peace choker and rose-tinted round spectacles.
AyaProbe (or should that be Wavy Gravy?): Dig it, man. Today’s RC is all about yesteryear but applied with modern techniques. We thought that for a bit of fun, we’d let you do a bit of unwinding and gather your thoughts as you make the final push for whoredom. You will be undergoing what is called sensory depravation therapy. Each of you is to climb into a separate tank. The lid will be shut subjecting you to total darkness and leaving you to your own devices. The challenge is simple. The person who manages to stay in the tank for the longest time will win the reward. Even if you lose, I dare say that you will feel refreshed by your seclusion. Nothing to be distracted by but your own thoughts. Questions?
GT: This will be a cakewalk. The only thing I love better than hearing myself talk is hearing myself think. And I’ve had plenty of practice with stimulants over the years. I ooze Zen, I’m telling you.
Outfrontgirl: Right back at you, GT. My profundity is legendary. I can go on for hours.
AyaProbe: That remains to be seen. Anyway, I’d better tell you about the prize. A special guest has kindly donated an hour of her time to be with us. This woman will be a valuable source of information and tips on how to be a fully-fledged whore. She definitely has the inside track on how to get noticed. A whore’s wet dream, so to speak. There is nothing she doesn’t know. Yes DAWs, your reward prize is a private audience with the Madam of Hollywood herself, HEIDI FLIESS!!
Cue jaw dropping all round as Heidi enters stage right meticulously dressed in a beige number with dark-toned lipstick and matching painted nails. She taps a little black book in her palm, grins mischievously and then walks off again.
Icecat: That’s our prize?
GT: I don’t want anything to have to do with that woman.
RudyRules: I’m sure she has a lot to dish but at my age that kind of thing loses its luster.
Dangerkitty: Eeew. Charlie Sheen and his conquests – as if. I wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole.
Outfrontgirl: Well, getting the dirt from the horse’s mouth may be useful. Then again, think of the number of showers you’d have to take. I’ll pass.
AyaProbe: Aren’t we an ungrateful lot? Suit yourself then. You’re still going to do the challenge regardless. We didn’t go to all this expense just for the hell of it. Now get in those tanks!
To cut a long story short, a restless Dangerkitty lasts barely 10 minutes. Apparently Outfrontgirl’s potion was that intoxicating - the poor girl can’t lie still. RudyRules, with plenty of experience at remaining still on night watch and/or ambush in his Special Forces days ought to have done well. But a distressed SnoopySucks, pawing the tank and making scratching noises, is an overwhelming distraction. RudyRules comes up next. Contrary to her boast, George Tirebiter places no better than third. It seems that she forgot to use the facilities earlier and holding the bladder is not one of her strong suits. Unless it was the fault of the Burdock root. That leaves Icecat and Outfrontgirl. The latter really should have won but in the midst of balancing her yin and yang, she inexplicably develops claustrophobia, then a panic attack and sits up knocking the lid off the tank (ok, I couldn’t think of anything better). Icecat wins the reward challenge – nothing. It’s his fault for not wanting to be beguiled by Heidi Fliess.
Just before they depart, AyaProbe, as promised, hands over the protein shakes, insisting they must be drunk. They taste funny. Well, remember the beginning of the episode and what the cameramen were sharing for breakfast? When the lights shut off, by sheer coincidence, the mound of food disappeared. And guess where they ended up? Bull’s-eye. And if you think that sounds far-fetched, consider what disgusting combinations of sustenance people come up with. I know somebody who likes peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.
The filler day sees the DAWs do their usual moping. George Tirebiter and Outfrontgirl confront Dangerkitty and spell out to her that if she wants to continue having the buzz, she must vote with them as a bloc and oust Icecat. Initially horrified at losing an object of her affection, she does her best to dissuade them. In desperation, she even claims that she’s able to reproduce Outfrontgirl’s brew – she knows which herbs to use. It’s a hollow threat, of course, Outfrontgirl pointing out that DK doesn’t know the exact quantities and more important still, is missing the most crucial thing: the binding agent. DK duly accepts defeat and rationalizes that the lure of being on a permanent high is a price worth paying over the fondness she has developed for Icecat. Addiction can do that to you.
The other two DAWs conference out of earshot. The gesticulating by Icecat is met with a large degree of impassiveness by RudyRules. Other than the occasional slight movement of the head to signify agreement (or not), Icecat may as well be talking to a brick wall. The conversation is unfeasibly brief. Afterwards, RudyRules does a bit of flea picking off SnoopySucks. Flicking them to one side, Icecat suddenly has an urge to ‘pop’ them using fire (hands up who used to do that as a kid!).
It doesn’t happen. Almost as if by design, Mistofleas appears in his mind’s eye and his head begins to pound. The crushing sensation is short-lived but long enough for a drawn out name to imprint his brain. In deathly tones, he hears Mistofleas’ voice spell out K-I-S-M-E-T-I-S-E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. For the third time in as many days, Icecat faints. When he comes to a few moments later, SnoopySucks is licking his face and the rest of the tribe is gathered round him. Anxious that it was her rice cakes responsible for his latest episode, Outfrontgirl becomes ultra-defensive. She sternly lectures everyone on the side effects and contraindications of the herbs used, reminding them to tell her ahead of the next meal of any ailments and/or afflictions so that she may prescribe the correct dosages without fear of causing unnecessary complications. RudyRules accuses her of being concerned after the event, that it was her responsibility to inform everyone prior to consumption. Outfrontgirl kindly reminds him that food falls into the category of deniability – if you don’t ask what the ingredients are but choose to eat it anyway, well, it’s like a box of chocolates: nine times out of ten you’ll get the one you like the least.
In the afternoon, the DAWs, suitably bored, resort to scrutinizing WoodstockBite’s activities – where he moves, how much movement he makes and to what degree of vigor, whether SnoopySucks joins in the fun, how often he tweets et cetera. GT christens this pastime “bird-watching hour.” And why not? If a bunch of imbeciles can stare at a friggin burning log and its embers and call it "Outback Television", we can argue that the BlowsVivor equivalent is at least dealing with an animate object.
The evening is taken over by Dangerkitty’s Burlesque Parlor and a one time only performance of Cabaret. DK’s exposé of Sally is terrific, immersing herself into the role with considerable zeal as she belts out the tunes. Mien Herr and Tomorrow Belongs To Me are given the spunky treatment. Still, Maybe This Time is the crowning achievement. Since the song addresses Sally’s pain over her conduct whilst inebriated, DK’s comparably raucous behavior ever since she guzzled Outfrontgirl’s remedy is effortlessly pulled off with realism and sang-froid. Even the others get involved; RudyRules, Outfrontgirl and Icecat make a lively Kit Kat Boys & Girls. Only George Tirebiter doesn’t participate, just as she said she wouldn’t earlier. There are better ways to make a wench of oneself she reasons. Plus the fact she believes that automatons could do a better job. Party pooper. There’s always one, isn’t there?
When it’s over, DK receives a standing ovation with Icecat particularly vociferous in his praise and applause. DK purrs with all the sexual fortitude she can muster.
At last, the DAWs pontificate on strategy!
Icecat (confessional): I definitely have cause for worry. GT is bound to vote for me and that means Outfrontgirl will follow suit. And ever since she made that damn brew, Dangerkitty has been hovering around those two like moth to a flame – bad news. On the other hand, she clearly enjoyed my unplugged session the other day and I’m hoping that along with the charm I exude on her, she’ll be a keeper. Did you notice how much praise I showered on her during the show she put on last night? I mean, yeah, it was decent and all, but it was hardly earth shattering either. Given her state of mind, I doubt she’s even aware I voted for her last time. If I can convince her to vote for GT, I should be OK. According to my calculations we have the same number of previous votes and hell, it would be interesting to see what tiebreaker the producers come up with in those circumstances. I’ll need to work on RudyRules some more too – he wasn’t very receptive yesterday to my suggestion of a testosterone alliance. His gratitude to Outfrontgirl for finding SnoopySucks is a stumbling block, especially if she plans to use him against me. I don’t think that he’d want to be the only male left though and be made for easy pickings. The gals have way too much power. Us guys have got to stick together.
Outfrontgirl (confessional): I wonder if people realize what a strong position I’m in at the moment. I’ve got the estrogen alliance with GT, the California alliance with DK, RudyRules gratefulness for allegedly finding SnoopySucks and even Icecat bears me no animosity. Well, so long as he doesn’t subscribe to the enemy by association theory after yesterday’s outburst by GT. I’m fairly confident that he’ll vote for her. He’s got the perfect excuse and I can’t say I blame him. And the poor guy is clearly not well after having feathers lodged in his mouth and then vomiting cherries. It may be wise to engage in some tactical distancing from GT for the next couple of days just in case. And that AyaProbe thing about GT lasting only a few hours? It must have been for my ears and that complicates matters unquestionably. I just hope that Icecat doesn’t win immunity. Otherwise, that will royally screw things up.
RudyRules (confessional) This UTR strategy has worked a treat so far. I’ve only got one vote to date. So I don’t capture the imagination like the others, big deal. I’ve got experience and if it means that SnoopySucks gets more attention than me, so be it. Actually, it’s quite sad seeing the others throw themselves about, forming alliances this way and that. In my opinion, the only way you’re going to succeed is to fly solo. By not joining in an alliance you avoid the perception of being in a position of power and, henceforth, a threat. OK, I did win immunity last time, but I was as surprised as anybody. No, if you want to succeed, you’ve got to do it yourself. My special ops training may have taught me that you need the support of you fellow troop members, that you stand and fall as one, but look how undisciplined the rest of the DAWs are. GT is the worst of them. Fancy laying into Icecat like that over something so trivial. As if she hasn’t behaved like an idiot. It’s like a donkey telling the mule he’s an ass.
GT (confessional): I’m not worried in the least. Our estrogen alliance is untouchable now with DK on board, even if she was coerced. It’s her stupid fault for getting addicted to Outfrontgirl’s brew. I might not have done myself any favors by losing my rag with Icecat but that’s not even an issue as things stand. He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And let’s dispense with the assertion I have a serpent’s tongue. I talk a lot but there is nothing I’ve said that hasn’t rung true. People need dressing down sometimes.
Dangerkitty (confessional): Isn’t this game a blast? <and that’s all she said, go figure>
George Tirebiter tries out the peace pipe. Mysteriously, the smoke rings she blows out drift into a not so random pattern. Words form. What’s this? Ah, it’s smoke mail:
It’s time again to allocate rank
Immunity’s on offer, is it yours to bank?
A tumultuous challenge that needs some soul
A walk, a talk, a show, your goal.
So come on over if you have the poise
Come face the music and make some noise.
Don’t lose that ego
You deign to feed,
‘Coz a whore in need, is a whore indeed.
The BlowsVivors assemble in an empty theater hall.
AyaProbe: Welcome DAWs. I’m hope you’re looking forward to this because I am. Over the last several weeks, the viewers have only been able to scratch the surface of your characters. Now has come the time for you to drop the facades and abandon your inhibitions. This is Hollywood people and what good are you to anyone if you don’t prostitute yourself and sell your soul to the masses. Tonight you will touch the depths of degradation. The irony is that without realizing, you could well come to enjoy it. Your pride will demand it. You will act and swagger. You will need composure, determination and a whole lot more besides. Folks, I give you…..
……the BlowsVivor Beauty Paegent!!!!!!!!!!!!!
George Tirebiter is aghast. Outfrontgirl looks suitably dumbfounded. RudyRules shakes his head in dismay. Icecat is ambivalent. Dangerkitty is jumping up and down with uncontrollable pleasure.
Dangerkitty: I’m going to win! I have what it takes. I am sooooo going to kick ass.
GT: This is utterly preposterous. If you think I’m going to do any parading, you are sorely mistaken buster. I’m not even going to mention that this does not provide a level playing field. Of all the pathetic half-baked ideas you have come up with, this takes the biscuit. It’s politically incorrect, insensitive and downright filthy. Pah! I spit in the face of whoredom. Pageant my ass! I’m leaving!
AyaProbe: Hold it George. You WILL take part. Do you want to know why? It’s because you love a confrontation. You cannot stand being shown-up and after your tête-à-tête with Icecat the last thing you’d want is better his odds at winning. You cannot resist the temptation of using your soapbox in a public arena. But more than anything else, you will involve yourself because the alternative is instant disqualification from the tribe. This is not an option.
GT: <through gritted teeth> Fine then. For the record, I am doing this under protest.
AyaProbe: Your objection is overruled. Now, anyone else have any complaints?
Outfrontgirl thinks about demurring but keeps her mouth shut. RudyRules expresses reservations about his suitability to such a contest but SnoopySucks seems to be very content in these surroundings. In deference to his girl, he raises no further protests. Icecat, too, is doubtful although he comes round, correctly surmising that he’s not exactly wanting in the looks and talent department and feels, at worst, he has an outside chance at winning.
AyaProbe: Alright then. Let me explain the rules. The pageant is in 3 parts - swimsuit competition, talent competition and lastly, Q&A. You will be awarded marks out of 10 with content, originality and appeal taken into consideration. The winner will be the one who has the highest aggregate average from the 3 competitions. No doubt you’ll be wondering who the judges are. Well, let’s meet the panel. Here they come.
Shuffling into the auditorium, single file, are, quelle surprise, the booted members of BlowsVivor to date. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. It must be said nevertheless, that none of them, save for ItzLisa and Skierdude, look terribly enamored to be here. To wit:
Dalton: Let’s hurry this up. Mother Nature has got continents to wreak havoc with and Australia hasn’t had its full quota of bushfires in weeks. Florida is due a hurricane in a day or so and I’ll be damned if Mount Krakatoa isn’t going to blow her top soon.
Superman: This is eating into quality time with my beloved.
VampKira: Oh, my precious. Lucky I brought the glue. That should help speed things along. Before you know it, we’ll be back in our coffin.
Sleeeve: I’d much rather be spoiling Love Cruise right now.
Surviorist: <tangent> Just so everyone knows, after watching Sleepless in Seattle last night I have decided to change my name to a handle akin to those in the film. So for Desperate in Delaware and Hopeful in Houston, please be informed I will be addressed as Busy in Beaver.
AyaProbe: Whatever. Judges, please take your seats. DAWs, go get ready.
And so, Miss Universe à-la BlowsVivor, finally gets underway. AyaProbe completes his metamorphosis to Dick Clark, aka AyaCluck, master of ceremonies. Leeza Gibbons, ex-Entertainment Tonight is his lovely co-host. She’ll of course be mingling with the judges and keeping tab on the scores. She gives the usual shtick about how only you, the audience know how each of the contestants are faring in a special segment. She’ll also come on just before the ad breaks with the requisite oohs and aahs, didn’t X look gorgeous, Y sure has a sunny disposition, Z gave such a fabulous response in wishing for world peace, darlings. In short, the standard rigmarole that does absolutely nothing for the show, and if you’re a bloke would much rather ogle at Miss Nantucket’s curvature or fantasize over Miss Reno’s svelte thighs, thank you very much. And just feast your eyes on those knockers. Get the picture? Good. Here we go then.
The Not Really A Swimsuit Competition
Dangerkitty is first up. Needless to say, she looks a picture in her all-in-one purple spandex piece as she sashays across the stage. A suggestive drop of the shoulders here, a wriggle of the hips there. And what’s this? A whip that she cracks with zest at all the right moments. Ladies and gentleman, Dangerkitty has become DomnatrixKitty.
A smitten PepeLePew scores a 10 on account of their recent history. Ditto for Sleeeve. Skierdude follows suit, as you would expect from a perverted teenager with only one thing on his mind. Besides, damn if he’s seen better ‘bumps’ in his lifetime. Survivorchick gives a 10 as demanded by the sudden quivering in her thighs. Surv, sorry, BnB awards a 9.4, not owing to the fact he isn’t impressed, but because only one person in his mind is truly worthy of a perfect score. Mon Cherie, jealous that DK could actually possess more than her in the sex appeal department and who doesn’t take kindly to anyone trampling on her territory, offers a miserly 3.8. VampKira, too busy admiring Superman in his entire splendor, forgets to score. Superman, whist blowing in Vamps’ ear, surreptitiously enters a 9.8 on the panel, improved from an original 9.0 after his X-ray vision confirmed what was under DK’s bodysuit. JV decides on a 5.22666 – that’s KABOOM when you punch it out on the phone. Go figure. Dalton, never easily impressed gives an unusually generous 8.7. What about ItzLisa? Duh, a 10 naturally, as she does for each DAW throughout the whole pageant. Good heavens my peeps, we can’t subject our resident nice gal to such improprieties as showing favoritism or taking sides can we? Sheesh.
Of course, the DAWs that follow never stand a chance. George Tirebiter dressed in black leather jacket and matching action pants strikes a chord, but lacks necessary oomph. The machine gun strapped across her shoulder, however, sees certain judges raise their numbers immediately after she points it in their direction threateningly. JV, with his penchant for firearms and explosives, and Dalton the sistah, are the only two to award full marks.
Icecat takes a gamble by appearing in nothing but Speedos, in the hope his flowing tresses and fairly honed body will make for a semi-decent Fabio impersonation. Sorry to say he ends up more like Garth from Wayne’s World. Yup, it really does suck. And what of his great sense of humor?
If points were given for costume size, Outfrontgirl, bedecked in quasi-Aztec attire (thanks to Icecat for the gif), would have won hands down. For the sake of her sense of realism, she even transports her mind to Rio de Janeiro and Mardi Gras’ star attraction (note: your author is reaching here). Thus, Outfrontgirl becomes Flamingogirl with a gait to match. Too bad that as soon as she gyrates in obligatory style - obviously she wasn’t paying attention to Aym’s belly dancing lessons – the costume feathers fall off. Result: Mediocrity, as you might say of a peahen’s plumage versus that of a peacock. The small consolation is that an agent in the audience sees some potential and, after the BlowsVivor stint, offers her the role of Minihaha in an upcoming stage reproduction of Hiawatha.
RudyRules fares much better than expected. Debonair in full navy regalia, chest puffed out with pride, hair slicked back and not a single strand out of place, loyal beagle by his side. He garners enough compassionate points to end this segment as runner up to Dangerkitty
The talent competition
Dangerkitty performs a few neat martial arts moves, the highlight being a karate chop through a seriously thick slab of marble chiseled to resemble a clown. It doesn’t quite come off though; in her heightened state, the concentration level suffers and she doesn’t quite connect with the required force and speed. The slab still breaks, but DK ends up with a heavily bruised wrist the color of her bodysuit. Outfrontgirl’s cocktail does a decent job of dulling the pain, but even so, she won’t be able to use her right hand for a few days.
George Tirebiter, as forecast by AyaProbe, mounts a soapbox - a commemorative edition specially designed for the occasion. For thirty minutes she keeps the entire audience in raptures, touching on a vast array of topics including, inter alia; a eulogy on haggis; the viability of dimpled chads; unhealthy obsessions with girls from TV reality shows; the resplendence of British men; why we should all like slithery. A few timely pauses, a sprinkling of acerbic wit and the occasional controlled vitriol all delivered in a bombastic yet never condescending voice, pulls her clear of the field in this round.
Icecat trudges onto stage carrying some sophisticated video equipment and goes on to validate his proficiency in all matters of gifs, pics, and caps. Getting serious for a moment, he stresses that in this day and age no picture is real or genuine anymore, that what you see is not what you get. As a point of reference, he waxes lyrical about the inherent pitfalls of the special effects as portrayed in The Truman Show, although had he been the ‘director’ of Truman Burbank, there is no way the character within the film would have discovered his false existence and escaped; Icecat is that good. It’s all very philosophical. He completes his allotted time by demonstrating that he has a photographic memory too: reciting the periodic table in chronological order of atomic number.
RudyRules recounts some great war stories during his time in special forces/covert ops. Entertaining but nothing truly original and it becomes obvious that his deeds of heroism are increasingly exaggerated the longer he goes on. He also does himself few favors by touching on the taboo subject of homosexuality in the military. Everyone is actually more enamored with SnoopySucks.
Outfrontgirl, in her own inimitable fashion, begins a lengthy discourse on one of her favorite 20th century authors – PG Wodehouse anyone? Shame that the audience and judges are, on this day, less anal-retentive. A switch to extolling the virtues of cannabis, hashish and necessary condiments, however, perks everyone up. Clearly conversant in the subject matter, she finishes with enough thoughts and material to fill a book. If the conveniently named Alex Comfort has his Joy of Sex series, well, watch for Outfrontgirl’s Joy of Opiates – a complete guide to fly off the bookshelves in the not too distant future. Misotfleas will also be issuing a rival compendium shortly.
As far as the judging goes, let’s not get too bogged down with that shall we? Sufficed to say, whilst partaking in a sniffing session with Vamps during Icecat’s performance, Superman accidentally spills glue over his entry panel, leaving some of the keys clogged and inoperable, and the numbers on the others obscured. (Vamps heard saying, “That was our only pot!). Outfrontgirl and RudyRules receive a poor average score as a result. ItzLisa continues to give everyone 10.0. Skierdude, as befits that truism about hormonally challenged guys, enters 6.9 repetitively.
The Q&A Competition
AyaCluck: In this final round, each contestant will be given a question. You will randomly select a number from a bowl that corresponds to a particular judge. He or she will then pose their question. OK. Let’s get it on.
Dangerkitty is up first. She selects Superman.
Superman: What number am I thinking of and why?
Dangerkitty: Ten! For your TTLs, silly. For your sex appeal. Um, for Dudley Moore? Ten-pin bowling. Fingers and toes?
VampKira: Don’t ever call my man silly.
George Tirebiter gets Dalton.
Dalton: What am I thinking right now, sistah?
GT looks intently at Dalton, as if waiting for some telepathic vibe to be channeled her way. Sure enough, her mind picks up the train of thought.
GT: You’re thinking, thank God you’re alive and thank God you’re a Texan. And there’s more. Ah, that you’re from the United States of Kiss My Ass.
Dalton: Marvelous! Don’t forget it either. The same goes for all you morons.
Next up, Icecat, fielding a question from Sleeeve (who if we’re using movie quotes as tags, would fit Woody Allen’s immortal “The only woman I’ve ‘entered’ is the Statue of Liberty.” Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
Sleeeve: What is up my sleeve?
Now Icecat was the architect of his own downfall. Hearing the questions from Dalton and Superman, his spoiler instincts projected Sleeeve asking something along similar lines, specifically “What number am I thinking of between 1 and 10?” Before realizing that was, in fact, not the case, he had already blurted out his reply.
Icecat: Pi. Greek letter. Symbol of ratio of circumference. Approximately 3.14159.
Sleeeve: Sorry bro, the correct answer is, “there is nothing up my sleeve except for maybe what only Dangerkitty has seen during our honeymoon reward”.
Icecat: What kind of a stupid answer is that?
AyaCluck: The stupid, right kind.
Icecat: This isn’t fair.
AyaCluck: THAT DOES IT!! I am sick to death of you people claiming episode after episode that this game is not fair. Twice in this one alone. Twice! Fair has nothing to do with it. If it did, I would win this damn thing.
Icecat: But you’re not a contestant.
AyaCluck: PIPE DOWN!! I’m talking now. The next person to utter anything along the lines of BlowsVivor being unfair will go straight to hell, I mean, an audience with Kismet – well, the same difference. You will not pass go, you will not collect 200, you will not end up on Monkeyboy Island, you will not stop to post a new monster thresd, you will not discuss intricacies of bog roll. ARE WE CLEAR? <nodding heads> Excellent. Now let’s finish this thing. Outfrontgirl, it’s your turn.
Outfrontgirl draws Skierdude from the bowl.
Skierdude: Hay dudette, wat did I call an no buddy lissened?
Outfrontgirl: You ‘called’ Jerri the black widow. I seem to recall being suitably abject. <yawns> Anything else?
Skierdude: Yez. Do u like da grind?
Skierdude: Then kan I be yor BUMP? <attempts leap onto stage>
Outfrontgirl: Eeew. Get away from me! <appealing to anyone> Do something!
Amidst the shadows at the back of the theater, somebody extends a forefinger and points at Skierdude. Abruptly, he is engulfed in flames. A few seconds later, what remains of him is just a pile of cinders.
Icecat: Wow. All these years I’ve spent trying to substantiate that spontaneous human combustion is a real phenomenon and now I have definitive proof! That was amazing. I want the film on this Aya. I want to relive it frame by glorious frame.
Outfrontgirl: What did I do?
GT: No more bumps for him.
Dangerkitty: Oh no! Did I do another song and dance number?
RudyRules: How ironic that someone who’s had his fair share of flames should wind up in flames.
AyaCluck, changing back to AyaProbe: Well this is most distressing. Sorry guys, but we’re going to have to take a time out whilst I confer with the producers. Go wait backstage will you?
The DAWs are ushered out .The judges chill out in the Blow Hole and discuss the day’s events in hushed tones. That is until the whispering reaches an unacceptable level and they are unceremoniously booted, VampKira first, closely followed by Sleeeve.
Everyone gathers back in the auditorium as AyaProbe makes an announcement that owing to Skierdude’s tragic demise but due more to this episode having gone on long enough, there is no more time available to complete the IC. With apologies to RudyRules, he will not receive a score for the last round, not that it makes a difference anyway – he still wouldn’t get enough points to win. He also informs the BlowsVivors that a computer glitch apparently failed to register any scores after round one – they suspect a nasty virus called ‘BITCH’ was responsible. On that basis, Dangerkitty is awarded immunity by default.
GT: This is not fai….. <bites down tongue> I mean, what a jip.
AyaProbe: Yes, well, that’s the way the dominoes fall sometimes. DK, wear this. <hands over a medallion chain with "Whore Exempt" stamped on it> This is the temporary Immunity necklace. Unfortunately, the condom one is too tattered and unhygienic. We’re also missing one of the condoms. <glares at Survivorist> A new one's being made. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of pigs to feed. See you all later.
The show must go on - yeah
The show must go on
I’ll face it with a grin, I’m never giving in
On the show
The DAWs arrive at TC greeted by a somber AyaProbe. The jury is also brought in. Just to the side lies a mock tombstone hastily erected from a few rocks and boulders. An urn sits atop the head tablet, which has the words “Skierdude: Born in lust turn to dust, born in sin come on in” haphazardly carved on it. AyaProbe instructs everyone to walk pass Skierdude’s grave in single file and pay their respects. There’s even a eulogy delivered by Outfrontgirl, who, probably more than anyone else had taken on the part as his surrogate parent during BlowsVivor. Numerous references are made to what a kewl guy he was, how he was simply misunderstood, that all he needed was a bit of guidance. A young ‘un on who had his best whoring days ahead of him. George Tirebiter resists the urge to say something snide. Afterwards, Dangerkitty leads everyone in a spontaneous group hug. Jurors embrace the surviving DAWs and exchange contrite words; sorry to have voted for you, you know it was nothing personal and so forth. It’s really quite touchy-feely.
AyaProbe: Let this be a lesson. Life’s too short to be squabbling and fighting all the time. I hope you will approach the remaining days of this show with a newfound sense of perspective. I suspect that casting your votes tonight will be hard, but it has to be done. Outfrontgirl, do you think what happened tonight has changed your approach from hereon in?
Outfrontgirl: It’s difficult to reconcile such events, that’s for sure. In the big scheme of things however, I’m not sure it makes a huge difference. The ultimate aim is still to win and I’ve put myself in a position to do that. True, GT and I have struck up a close relationship and the others may feel vulnerable because of it, but if you consider it carefully, it's a double-edged sword. If Dangerkitty, RudyRules and Icecat feel so inclined, one of us could be out.
AyaProbe: So strategy is not important as it once was?
Outfrontgirl: Well, it’s contingent on so many variables and I’d rather not get into those right now. I will say that you have to trust people at lot more since if you get double-crossed, there is less to fall back on.
AyaProbe: And GT, do you think your tiff with Icecat could cost you?
GT: What’s done is done. Sure, I regret it but Icecat’s a big boy. He’ll get over it
Icecat: No problem. It’s out of my hands anyway.
AyaProbe: <glares at Icecat> I’m not sure what that means but let’s move on. DK, you won immunity. Will how you vote tonight affect the group dynamic when you become a four?
Dangerkitty: Dunno. I try not to think too far ahead. You’ve got to live in the moment and that suits me fine. I’m in such a happy place right now.
AyaProbe: And Rudy, how will you vote?
RudyRules: SnoopySucks tells me to vote with my conscience. So I shall.
And so the DAWs do their thing. Two votes are shown:
George Tirebiter: Icecat. Ha! Did you really believe I’d let you get away with that? Long live the estrogen alliance. Go back to the freezer, where you belong. You’re done.
Icecat: GT. I was put up to this. It has nothing to do with two days ago, but clearly you have anger issues. A certain somebody has been breathing down my neck and the alternative is far too unthinkable. It’s just not worth it. Sorry.
The votes are tallied and read out.
AyaProbe: First vote, Icecat. Second vote, Icecat. Third vote, GT. Fourth vote, GT. That’s two apiece. <pauses for effect> The twelfth person to be voted off BlowsVivor is……….
……….George Tirebiter. GT, you know the drill.
A shocked GT hands over her headshot whilst looking back and forth between Dangerkitty and Outfrontgirl. Her portrait blazes as she exits.
How the others voted:
Dangerkitty: Icecat, you’re the only decent piece of eye-candy left in the game but I need Outfrontgirl’s brew. I feel ashamed to admit that bribery still works. It has nothing to do with you. Kisses m’kay?
RudyRules: GeorgeTirebiter, same as last time. Eliminating the opposition. For dumbness in getting confrontational with Icecat. For failing to give SnoopySucks the proper respect and the time of day.
Outfrontgirl: GT. This is so hard. I meant it when I said that we have a great friendship. Nevertheless, it’s been clear for a long while that you’re too much in control. On top of that, you’ve been getting increasingly obtuse. The friction with Icecat the other day was a clear warning to me that you’re a loose cannon and I can’t have you taking matters into your own hands whenever your emotions get the better of you. Then AyaProbe dropped that hint which could only have been for my ears. Maybe it was preordained, who can tell? If you’re as smart as I think you are, you would realize that I am the most obvious threat to you winning. I suspect you would have voted for me next by reeling in DK as a personal ally. So I’m simply making the preemptive strike instead. This is a respect vote.
George Tirebiter’s Final Words:
Everybody knows I was too good for this game. What didn’t I have I ask you? I stood up for myself to be counted and if people can’t get beyond their envy, they are not worthy of me. The estrogen alliance was strong and it would have carried us all the way. I know Outfrontgirl double-crossed me – DK is too high and content to carry through with any backstabbing. Maybe she resented me being the dominating one in our partnership. Or perhaps she wanted the weed all to herself. I underestimated her, that’s for sure. But scores will ALWAYS be settled, sistah. Dalton demands it. I demand it. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Bible. And hell hath no fury than a woman’s scorn.
And does anybody have any doubt?
I’ll top the bill, I’ll overkill
I have to find the will to carry on
On with the show
The show must go on
Disclaimer: Everything you have just read is fiction, Jim, but not as we know it. If the player’s strategies are wrong or perplexing, if the episode doesn’t run in a linear fashion, if there’s no continuity, if it’s all to perverse, if it’s incoherent, if it’s too long-winded, or you simply don’t understand anything, I have an excellent defense – “Nonsense and No Sensibility”. Matters pertaining to punctuation, grammar and spelling is not my fault. It’s the computer’s. I admit nothing and deny everything.
Acknowledgements: Mum, Dad, Uncle Tom-Cobbly, Bob’s my Uncle, God. And shakes the clown. If it wasn’t for you Shakes, who knows what I would have got up to instead.
*who’s now going to pour himself a stiff one*