LAST EDITED ON 11-21-05 AT 10:20 AM (EST)

Among the viewing public, it is a truth universally established that a talent less and desperate attention whore in possession of a place on a reality TV show will do anything for a million dollars. So when news reached the outside world that eighteen such people were to be marooned in Guatemala, near some historic pagan ruins, the whole populace were excited with indifference.
“Only think!” exclaimed Sally Sixpack to her friend, Jane Doe. “Soon there will be DAWs a-plenty on our TVs, not so soon as the last lot were got rid off.” Jane Doe could only agree that it was indeed all rather provoking.
However, as is the nature of such things, the DAWs arrived on TV on Thursday's at eight o' clock, and within weeks many of the most irksome - and many of the most winsome - had been voted off.

The day after one of these voting-offs occurred found Miss Stephanie LaGrossa in low spirits. For, though she was bright, intelligent, and fair, one of her particular beaus - a Mr Bobby John Drinkard - had been exiled from the group. And though she had delivered him to the jury, as he had asked her, and stopt the others from voting him off in place the tenth, she could not but repine over her loss.

“Oh Bobby John,” she sighed to herself. “If only you could have comported yourself with more decorum, perhaps the other ladies could have borne your presence better.” Yet even in the midst of these reflections, she had to admit to herself that even a self-proclaimed 'Southern Gentleman' who blew his nose on the ground, and whose accent made him sound like his mouth was permanently full of grits, was an unlikely target for womanly affection other than her own.
Still, Stephanie was not made for despondency and long self-reflection. She was soon attending to the goings-on of the others around her as they all returned from tribal council after voting the unfortunate Mr Drinkard off, and was taking a lively interest in the statements of two others in the group, Miss Cindy Hall and Mr Jamie Newton. Mr Newton had taken a dislike to Mr Gary Hogeboom, another of their party, because he had had the audacity to produce an immunity idol at Tribal Council, and thus saved himself from the ignominy of being voted off. This provoked Mr. Jamie exceedingly, and he sought to persuade Cindy and the others of his group of the desirability of disliking Mr Hogeboom.
“Depend upon it,” quoth he. “Mr Gary Hogeboom attempted as best he could to confuse our little group, by voting for you, Miss Hall.”
“I do not believe that, necessarily,” responded the lady. She was saved from having to explain her belief by the intemperate rejoinder from the gentleman.
“Not necessarily?” he cried, his face growing flushed. “Whatever can you mean by that? For if you will but reflect, you will recollect there is no other reason for such a vote!”
In the face of such ill-usage, however, Cindy continued to maintain her perfect indifference not just to Mr Hogeboom's vote, but all such single votes that were thrown her way. “So I received one vote,” she said. “I am but little excited by it.”
Mr Jamie Newton was much disappointed by this reception of his first overtures, and was silent, for the moment.

Soon after, Miss Hall sought out Stephanie, in order to discuss Mr Jamie Newton’s bothersome attentions. “It seems that every time he returns from Tribal Council, he wishes to enter into some dispute or other,” said Cindy. “Today, it was over the vote that came to me. And then it appeared that he became infuriated with me because I refused to join with his infuriation.”
Stephanie could only commiserate this turn of events with her friend, and agree that it was all very strange. Yet a part of her that heartily rejoiced over the dispute that could only forward her own object of earning the million dollars.

It was but a short time later when a great agitation in the underbrush was heard by Stephanie and her companion. Both ladies looked towards the source of the noise in some alarum.
“Gracious,” cried Cindy. “What can this be that approaches?”
Stephanie was spared the necessity of responding by the sudden appearance of Lydia, the eldest and most rotund woman of their group. She burst into the clearing and instantly burst out: “Miss Stephanie! Cindy! Come quick! You are needed at camp!”
“Whatever is the meaning of this, Lydia?” asked Stephanie doubtfully, not yet willing to charge into the jungle on the whim of a woman who may have been fairly said to be deranged.
“Oh, it is awful!” exclaimed Lydia. “For Mr Newton has taken such a dislike to Mr Hogeboom, it is as like that he will punch the poor man!”
Now the two ladies comprehended the urgency! They instantly quitted the clearing of their tete-a-tete, and flew down the hill to the camp.

Luckily, by the time the two ladies returned, Mr Newton and Mr Hogeboom had not yet progressed to fisticuffs. It seemed, from what Stephanie could make out from the rambling, disjointed speech of Mr Newton, that he was now angry that Mr Hogeboom had promised to vote some time back for Mr Brandon Bellinger, but had instead voted for another.
“Indeed, sir,” said Mr Hogeboom quite sternly, despite his defensive and supine position. “I made no such promise.”
“Then it would appear, sir, that you and I will have to dispute the matter,” responded Mr Newton warmly.
Stephanie caught her breath. Was Mr Newton about to issue a challenge? If Mr Hogeboom accepted such a challenge, she was sure he would be killed, and even though that would place her one step closer to the million, she did not want it said that she won through being allied with a killer! She was on the point of telling both men that such an action was madness when Mr Hogeboom spoke in a more conciliatory manner.
“On the contrary,” spake he. “There is no need to dispute-”
But Mr Jamie Newton had no patience to listen to the elder man's excuses. “Sir, you called me a liar,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height. “I demand satisfaction!”
He began searching about his person for a glove with which he undoubtably intended to slap the poor Mr Hogeboom.
Luckily, another of their group stepped forward to avert the growing crisis. Mr Judd Sergeant was the largest and most phlegmatic of their group, and as such would brook no man causing more trouble than he himself created.
“Newton, I heard no such accusation,” he said. “No one - including Mr Hogeboom - called your veracity into question.”
“I acknowledge that,” responded a crestfallen Mr Newton. “But still I am just saying, that is all. Perhaps we should forget it.”
Stephanie heaved a sigh of relief, and reflected on her hearty dislike of Mr Newton. “He has shown himself to be little improved since his stunt of the last immunity challenge,” she thought to herself.

Unfortunately, after a brief respite, Mr Newton again took up the subject of the stain to his honor, and again assaulted Mr Hogeboom with the supposed affront to his dignity.
"I, like you, am angry too, Hogeboom,” said the younger man.
“I do not share your anger,” stated Mr Hogeboom, frostily.
“I too, am of that persuasion,” said Mr Sergeant “It appears to me that you, Newton, may be said to be instigating.”
Finally, it seemed that Mr Newton had at last been defeated by the combined efforts of Mr Gary Hogeboom's passive aggression and Mr Judd Sergeant's persuasion. He was obliged to give up the fight and retire from the field, much to Stephanie's satisfaction. She had not yet forgiven him for his antagonism towards Mr Bobby John Drinkard, and the his combination of self-satisfaction and insecurity she found exceedingly provoking. Bright were her smiles as she later reflected on Mr Newton's defeat.

Soon Mr Sergeant was seeking an audience with her. From a sense of obligation over his recent actions, she dutifully listened to his sniggering declaration that the game might be taking a toll on Mr Newton. And further, that psychologically, he was losing what he colloquially referred to as 'it'.

The next day dawned bright and fair, and over the course of breakfast it became clear that it was the day of a reward challenge. Soon, they were at the site of the challenge, being afflicted by Mr Probst, who commonly attended such events.
“Really, it is too much,” Miss Danni Boatwright confided to Stephanie. “Mr Probst grows more and more tiresome every time we see him. And I swear he watches me most particularly!”
Stephanie agreed that Mr Probst was indeed irritating, but she could not but doubt her friend's latter declaration, for it seemed to her that Mr Probst had eyes more for her than any other.
Meanwhile, the gentleman they were talking of commenced his usual vulgar speech of introduction. He appeared not to notice that none of the Survivors paid any attention to his 'Do you desire to know for which baubles you are playing for?' and his 'Worth engaging in competition for?' Indeed, ignoring what Mr Probst said was fast becoming a necessity among the others, for in the course of a challenge, he would not be silent, and had been known to comment loudly on the weather, if there was a lull in the action. Stephanie had once heard Miss Danni remark to Mr Bobby John Drinkard that it was like one was being assaulted by a demented carnival barker. Mr Drinkard had not understood the witticism, but Stephanie had barely stifled her own laugh.

Today, though, despite scarcely attending to him, Stephanie was able to comprehend that the reward for the day was a stay at a luxurious cottage, where there were to be showers, food, and, somewhat incongruously in Stephanie's opinion, Folgers coffee. She could not but fervently wish that she would be one of the winning team. And when she observed that her team of four did not include Lydia, she felt that the other team's prospects were dim indeed.

The actual challenge was as silly and irritating as always. It involved a lot of mud, and a lot of Mr Probst's confused and pointless yelling, although he did at one point attack poor Lydia for her tardiness. Glancing over, Stephanie saw that Lydia had somehow come to the conclusion that her team's speed would be helped by her being dragged full-length through the mud by Miss Cindy Hall.

And so it was that Stephanie's team of Mr Gary Hogeboom, Mr Judd Sergeant, Miss Danni Boatwright, and herself, won the challenge. With a few more words of brakage from Mr Probst - and several overly-familiar looks that Stephanie fancied the host directed at her - the victorious team were whisked into a helicopter that took them - still in their befouled condition - to a well-appointed private house that stood in poorly-maintained grounds that had neither a lake, a lawn, a garden, nor any pleasing prospects of tree-lined meadows. But it did have a pool and an outdoor showering facility. Stephanie and Danni, still in their muddied challenge clothing, were first under the shower.
“You are being afforded a most advantageous sight, gentlemen,” smiled Danni at the two men of their party. “For here are two comely females showering together.”
The men agreed they were indeed most fortunate to witness such an event, but Stephanie was ashamed at her companion's want of decorum. She was willing to concede Miss Danni had a pleasing countenance and figure, but for Danni to state that she was aware of this fact was unforgivably base. She was sorry to have been included in the scheme. And besides 'two comely females' made no mention of the fact that one was more comely than the other.

However, it soon became apparent that Danni's lack of grace was not to be the worst occurrence that day. When the time came for Mr Sergeant to take his own shower, he removed all his clothes from his person in full view of all the ladies and any servants that were present. Stephanie saw Danni looking quite frankly at Mr Sergeant's unclothed figure, but she could not be so blase, and kept her gaze averted. This gave her the opportunity to observe that Mr Hogaboom was not attempting to take his shower at the same time as Mr Sergeant, despite the fact there was two showerheads.

Part The Second

It was as Stephanie and her three companions were partaking of a most voluminous and delicious outdoors buffet in the French style, that, back at camp, Miss Lydia Morales was talking to Mr Rafe Judkins. She was apologizing to the gentleman for her performance at the day's challenge, and the form of that apology was to enumerate all of the pleasant things that Mr Rafe had missed because of her. “A bath, a nice bath,” quoth she. “And coffee in the morning, and pancakes with syrup.”
"It signifies nothing-" began Mr Judkins.
“And a helicopter ride!” interrupted Lydia.
Mr Judkins did indeed look somewhat ill at that point. “Yes, I am a little sad about that,” he said.

It was but a short time later that Mr Newton approached Mr Judkins, and demanded of that gentleman that he trust him, and in return for that trust, he, Mr Newton, would guarantee a place in the final three for Mr Judkins, along with Mr Sergeant and himself. “For,” he said. “I know we can get there if you trust me.”
Mr Judkins made no answer. He did not ask how trust could do all the wonderful things that Mr Newton appeared to think it should, nor did he inquire as to why he should trust a gentleman who was so paranoid, he made Mr Howard Hughes look like Mr David Letterman.

Mr Newton then embarked on a campaign to obtain the sworn word of Mr Judkins that he would join the supposed alliance of three, but finally Mr Judkins spake, and it was not to give the answer desired by Mr Newton.
“I have not considered the matter at all,” said he, curtly. “And I have not the smallest intention on giving my word upon the issue on so little reflection.”
“Then will you at least oblige me,” said Mr Newton, his face becoming clouded. “In swearing to something? For instance, you could swear that you will be in an alliance of six with me.”
“My word is already given in that regard,” said Mr Judkins stiffly.
And yet still Mr Newton was not done. “I just do not wish to be taken in, sir,” he said, looking earnestly into Mr Judkins's eyes. “I must, must, make the final six.”

Meanwhile, back at the environs of the reward, Stephanie was listening to Mr Gary Hogeboom explain the strategy by which he hoped to avoid being voted out at the next tribal council. It seemed that it consisted of people voting for someone else rather than him - specifically, anyone who could not measure up to himself and the three others present in terms of vigor or sanity. This, reflected Stephanie was clearly aimed at Lydia and Jamie, in that order, and she could not deny the justice of his appeal. However, he rather injured his argument by the example he chose to illustrate it; “If Miss Lydia Morales makes the final two, then I urge you to guess who will win the vote?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on; “It would be Lydia, without a doubt. And if Miss Cindy Hall makes the final two, guess who will win the vote? Cindy.” He sat back, apparently satisfied with the unarguable logic of his appeal, but Stephanie was not so satisfied. Leaving aside the fact that Lydia could be in the final two with Cindy, she was not so pleased with Mr Hogeboom's conclusions, believing that neither of the two women named by the gentleman were in any way capable of beating her in the final two. And besides, she thought aloud later, when she was with only a cameraman, “I have a good thing going, so it is doubtful we will follow Mr Hogeboom's plan.”

However, she did ask Mr Hogeboom and Miss Danni who they wished most to be voted out, rather than themselves. They both answered that Mr Newton was for them the most despised of the group. This coincided with her own wishes so exactly, she was sorely tempted to follow their plan, so at the next opportunity, she proposed to Mr Sergeant that they take a turn around the shrubbery. She could see Mr Hogeboom and Miss Danni exchange significant looks as she made the proposal, but was not abashed. Privacy was needed if they were to discuss the fate of the other two. Mr Sergeant, with studied nonchalance, agreed to her request, and they walked out into the unkempt landscape that surrounded the house.
But on receiving her suggestion that they should act on Mr Hogeboom's and Miss Danni's plan, she was met with a firm negative.
“This game in which we are engaged is apt to affect one's heart sometimes,” said Mr Sergeant, growing rhapsodic. “Sometimes it wrenches it a bit, and voting off Mr Gary Hogeboom and Miss Danni will sorely afflict us all. But that is unfortunately just the way the game is.” As was his penchant when uncomfortable, he then added several 'Man's to the end of his speech, but Stephanie was too provoked to take much notice of them. “While I cannot dispute that it has been welcome to gain the acquaintance of Mr Hogeboom and Miss Danni, this will not affect my game,” continued Mr Sergeant, becoming annoyingly self-congratulatory. “Because I know what my game is.”
“Well I should think you do!” cried Stephanie, “For it would be wondrous indeed if you did not. But I for one cannot vouch for that plan's sense!” Having said her piece, she left the gentleman alone with the cameraman.

The next day, Stephanie arose from her comfortable bed and joined the other three challenge winners in the breakfast room. They were also - according to their director's instructions - wearing the pyjamas they had been given the previous night. The owner of the property interrupted their perplexed study of the six flasks of differently-flavored Folgers coffee, - and their wonder over what they should do with the contents - with a box containing four video tapes, each marked with the name of one of the four challenge winners.
This was the moment Stephanie had been dreading. She was to be affronted not just with the embarrassingly inane and incoherent words of a number of plump people with unforgivably unkempt hair and displeasing comportment, she was also to be assaulted with her companions reactions to this parade of bathos. Her only solace was there was only three videos beside her own, and the ordeal might be soon over.

Her fears proved justified. Mr Gary Hogeboom's family were particularly irritating, having made up a chant and accompanying actions so bizarre that she fancied she might know the real reason that Mr Hogeboom greeted the showing of this video with tears. Her own video, however, was much worse than she had hoped, consisting of nearly all the members of her extended family mouthing platitudes while facing the camera like they were facing a firing squad. Even more unhappily, they had elected an ill-tempered nephew to deliver the principle of the address, and Stephanie's cheeks burned with mortification as she heard this uppity youngster deliver words and phrases that could not but mark the lack of sense and tact of her family.

At length it was over, however, and there was nothing more to do than to dress in the clothes they had arrived in, and be transported in the helicopter back to their camp. After the debacle of the videos, Stephanie's spirits were still depressed as she and her three companions of the last day strode back into their camp. But it seemed that it was not just herself who found the return a melancholy prospect. She heard Mr Hogeboom observe to Mr Sergeant; “We have returned to the real word, now.”
“Indeed,” replied Mr Sergeant. “We are welcomed again to the Hell hole.”
The prospect of the immunity challenge and subsequent tribal council laid heavy on the minds of the Survivors that day. Stephanie's plan of ingratiating herself with the four who had lost the reward challenge by presenting them with smuggled bags of Folger coffee seemed to fizzle in the depressed atmosphere of the camp, and the glares she received from Miss Boatwright following the unveiling of the barely-palatable coffee, along with Miss Hall's lukewarm reception of same made her wonder if she had followed the right course in stealing it.

Part the Third

Eventually the time of the Immunity Challenge occurred. The Survivors waited in a great state of anxiety until the director motioned they should walk onto the set at the same time as Mr Probst called “Come in, ladies and gentleman!” When they did so, they found another tiresome construction site that represented the challenge. And it soon turned out that the contest was to be as dull and irritating as the majority of such things were. Mr Probst yelled continuously about everything and nothing, stared at Stephanie - or so it seemed to her - and Mr Judkins won the challenge, leaving Mr Hogeboom looking like a cat had thrown up in his mouth.
Although she herself had made the final stages of the challenge and had failed to win, Stephanie was not disappointed. She knew herself to be safe from being voted out, and she could only rejoice that another provoking ordeal was over.

Once they had returned to camp, Mr Judkins lost no time in boasting to her that, by his outstanding performance in challenges, he was portraying himself as an extraordinarily large threat to the others in the game. Stephanie simply smiled insincerely and walked away, but she did not get far before Mr Hogeboom intercepted her and told her that, though he had failed to win the challenge, he could not reproach himself, for if he was voted out, he had done all he could to avoid that fate.
Stephanie had no sooner left Mr Hogeboom to his self-congratulatory ruminations than Mr Sergeant cornered her, and insisted on telling her that Mr Newton was continuing his series of paranoid actions. “He might receive one vote, likely from Mr Hogeboom, but I find it exceedingly unlikely he will receive more,” said he.

It was as she escaped from Mr Sergeant that she encountered Mr Newton walking back to camp. He fell into step beside her. Without so much as a preamble, he launched into a description of the game where he was the challenge threat, not Mr Judkins, despite the fact that Mr Judkins had won three individual challenges, and he had won but one. After he had rid himself of that opinion, Stephanie felt able to leave him to talk to Cindy. As she left, she heard him ask that lady if she was sticking with the group of six. However, not ten minutes later, Cindy approached her to complain of Mr Newton's paranoia. Despite tiring of her habitual role as confessor to the others of the group, Stephanie heard the narrow-featured woman out before Mr Judkins again spoke up and said he too was growing heartily sick of Mr Newton's paranoia. “It is growing ridiculous,” quoth he. “He has asked me seven times today if I am to stick with our group of six. And every time he wants to check this fact with me, I have to play a game of Mancala with him simply in order that he can ask. Really, I grow quite fatigued with his attentions.”
Stephanie acknowledged the justice of Mr Judkins's feelings. It was at that point that an inquisitive Miss Lydia Morales approached. Hardly waiting for the conclusion of the pleasantries, Mr Judkins launched into a plan for voting Mr Newton off. Lydia was doubtful at first. “He and I have been together in this game since its commencement,” she stated hesitantly. “I fear to break the implicit understanding that is between us.”
“I understand,” said Stephanie. “And Mr Gary Hogebooms, our intended target, must be acknowledged to be in many operations smooth. Yet I still believe that we should consider this course of action seriously.”
“On my part, I am decided,” said Mr Judkins. “My heart tells me that this is what we should do.”
Transported by these words, Stephanie instantly knew that her heart was decided too, and said as much. Lydia was not as convinced, but she was not a woman made for strength of conviction, and after little further persuasion, Stephanie left for tribal council tolerably convinced that Lydia would vote the way she wanted her to.

By the time they had the director's permission to enter the tribal council set, Stephanie was already wishing for the set piece to be done with. Ahead of her was several hours of being peppered with impertinent questions by the tiresome Mr Probst, who fancied himself a wonderful interrogator, and seemed to have little shame over the fact that fully nine in ten of his questions were either too baffling or too profane to be shown on TV. His questions on this occasion were as awful as ever. To Stephanie's discomfort, he asked Danni if she had enjoyed her shower with Stephanie, and asked if it had led to anything further. Stephanie was about to upbraid the loathsome host for his impertinence, but she was forestalled by Miss Boatwright’s giggling answer that if Mr Probst had been watching, perhaps it would have.
Insolent girl! thought Stephanie, coloring. To be so forward and to imply that she was also willing to comport herself in a similar shameless manner! It was as much as Stephanie could do not to cry out in a most unladylike manner.

Following that exchange, Stephanie was too upset to attend to the remainder of the tribal council. Miss Boatwright continued to flirt shamelessly with Mr Probst, despite the fact that he directed most of his gazes at the embarrassed Stephanie, while Mr Sergeant pledged undying admiration for the gentleman he intended to vote off. But her attention was wrenched back to the proceedings around her when Mr Newton answered Mr Probst's question of whether there was someone among the group that he would particularly like to see removed from the island. Mr Newton answered that he'd most like to see the six feet tall rabbit that plagued him taken from the game. Then he went on to explain that he believed the jungle could drive one insane. “You have to watch oneself closely,” he finished, his voice an eerie calm.

It was then time, finally, to vote. Stephanie could hardly wait until Mr Probst went through his stale routine about tallying the votes, and Mr Newton was voted off. In keeping with his comportment up to that moment, Mr Newton reacted like a man who had lost his senses, yelling “Blind sided! Outstanding! Now that, I believe, is how one should vote another contestant out of the game! Harvey, you stay.” As Mr Newton walked away, Mr Probst moved to center stage again, and pronounced, in his most pompous and officious manner, that Mr Newton and his rabbit had just given them the best advice anyone could. As the remaining contestants looked at each other in bemusement, he continued; “Blind sided.” There was a long pause. “Blind sided,” he repeated slowly. Even in the dim firelight of the tribal council set, Stephanie could see that Mr Probst was beginning to sweat. Then, in a rush, he continued; “Who you share information with and what information you share is critical if you desire any chance in this game. Consider that a gift.”
Again, the Survivors looked among each other in bafflement. That was a gift? Stephanie wondered to herself. Truly, it appeared that Mr Newton had been correct in his contention that the jungle could cause one to lose one's grasp of reality. And Mr Probst had seen more jungles than any of them.
Perhaps aware of the concerns his words had raised in the minds of the contestants, Mr Probst continued brusquely. “Would you please be so good as to pick up your torches and head back to camp."

Part the Fourth

With relief, Stephanie arose and headed towards her torch, yet as soon as the Survivors began filing out of the Tribal Council set, Mr Probst approached her.
“Miss Stephanie, can I apply to you for a private audience?” he asked earnestly.
Stephanie regarded the host in surprise. She had not the slightest idea of what Mr Probst could say to her in private that he could not have said in public. Still, it she found it was not in her power to refuse such a request, and beyond that, her curiosity was piqued. She nodded her assent.
Thus she and Mr Probst waited awkwardly in the tribal council area until the other six players - who directed many a curious glance at their companion as they left - were out of both sight and earshot.

As soon as Mr Probst judged that event had occurred, he grabbed her hand, and gazed into her eyes. “In vain I have struggled,” he said. “But it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.”
Stephanie's astonishment was beyond measure. She stared, colored, doubted, and was silent.
Taking her silence as sufficient encouragement, he began making ardent love to her, which touched on the appeal of her eyes, her figure, and her generous nature. He also described the lengths he had gone to have Stephanie returned to a second season in the game, even though he was engaged and had no encouragement from herself. “It was madness, madness,” he said, smiling at the remembrance. “But I could not help myself. I believed that if I did not see you again, I would go mad.”
Now he took hold of both her hands, and once again gazed into her eyes. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” he said. “Please make me the happiest of men, and accept my hand in marriage for now, and my tent for the night.”
Stephanie, meanwhile, was in a tumult of emotion. She was grateful, yet doubtful that he was sincere. But one emotion was uppermost among the others, and the more he had spoken, the more she had perceived his smug conviction that the only uncertainty in the matter was whether she would stay for breakfast. Such a circumstance could only exasperate further, and when he ceased, the color rose into her cheeks, and she said,
“In such circumstances, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they be returned.” She waited until she saw the effect that her words had on his countenance. When at last his expression had lost some of it's complaisance, she continued, “How you conceived I would welcome such advances, I cannot imagine, but rest assured that if you and I were the last two people on Earth, I would sleep with goats rather than you.”
It took Mr Probst some time, but eventually he had the self-command to speak. “May I ask why, with such little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected?” he asked bitterly.
“The answer is simply this,” she replied. “You are as annoying in person as the stale catchphrases you have repeated for ten seasons. There is also your pathetic idea of frontier garb that you have worn without variation for hundreds of episodes, and your increasingly leathery face. Then there is your lechery and lasciviousness, and your tendency to spy on the female castaways when they wash or are at their toilette.” She saw that she stunned him into silence. She continued more compassionately, “These words may seem harsh to you now, but perhaps you may use them as a basis for future self-improvement. Take them as a gift.” With that, she spun on her heel, and headed back to camp.
Finally, Mr Probst found his voice. “Wait!” he cried after her.
She turned. “There is nothing you can say or do to reverse my opinion of you,” she said impatiently.
“What if I guarantee you final two?” he said beseechingly. “I can do it. I have the ability.”
Stephanie frowned. “That's not possible,” she said. “Not even one as accustomed to underhanded maneuvers as you could deliver final two.”
“I am the one who referees the challenges, counts the votes, and who hands out purple rocks,” he said. “I can do it.”
Stephanie knew she wanted to believe. To reach the final two! It would be a fulfilment of a dream she had had for years. “Can you not give me any assurances, any proof?” she cried. “For I little wish to end up like Miss Jerri Manthey.”
“How do you think Neleh got to the final two?” smirked Mr Probst.
Slowly, Stephanie felt herself beginning to believe. She smiled. Dropping her torch, she walked towards the grinning host.

It is a truth universally established that a desperate attention whore in possession of a place on a TV reality series will do anything for a million dollars...

As transcribed from a statement by the shade of Miss Jane Austin, by

Sig by Cygnus X1

"The literacy level of our children are appalling." - GW Bush

ETF: A couple of transcription errors.