SURVIVOR - Pongo Bongo

02 November 2013

717

R. Linda:

It was a particularly stressful day at work, and I felt the need to leave on time for a change. As I approached the elevator, I was joined by three other disenchanted co-workers. While in the elevator, I was talked into going for a bite of sushi and some drinks.

When we had consumed the rather tasty fish and had a couple glasses of coconut pineapple punch, the conversation turned a wee bit gross. Kevin, who has a fascination with bodily functions, started us off with this gem of a half-asked question:

"What's that worm you can get from eating raw fish? It takes over your digestive and intestinal tracts and pretty much can wrap its way around your heart muscle and inside it . . ."

"OH STOP!" Janet Klein, one of our accountants, screamed.

"You've heard of it then," Kevin nodded at her.

"Yes, I've heard of it and NOW is not the time to be discussing it!"

Well, we ended up discussing it anyway, and I will say I went home feeling the need to barf up sushi, but I didn't. Instead, what usually happens to me with strange or spicy food, coupled with worry and stress, happened. And we know what that is, it is DREAMS. The kind classified as nightmares. So here it is:

I was sitting on a beach on a Japanese island under a grove of palm trees, drinking coconut milk from a large coconut. We were talking about not wearing shoes on the sand and getting a worm in your foot for not taking the trouble. Somehow, this conversation was mixed in with the sushi worm, and I put the coconut down and said, "That's disgusting!"

I sort of jumped because I was with Weasil, Captain Jaack, Tom W, and Fiona! We were dressed in our underwear, all of us. I was stupefied as I looked down at meself and saw that I had no shirt, but I was wearing tighty whities with long black socks and dress shoes. Then I looked at Weasil, with no shirt, boxer shorts with lips all over them like someone kissed his underwear, and he had a moustache, which gave me pause to state, "You have a moustache!"

"Everybody wants a moustache." He said, taking me a coconut.

"I don't!" Fiona said, and I looked at her, and it looked like she had one, too! But she said she didn't! "It's a coconut milk moustache." Was her explanation.

"But . . . but . . . coconut milk be clear," I muttered.

I looked toward the shore and saw a sign like the one on Survivor: "MAN SCOUTS." I scratched my head at that one and was truly confused. I pointed at the banner and said to no one in particular, "Man Scouts, I wonder what that's about."

"Better than Boy Scouts, mate," Captain Jaack said, trying to force a lime into a coconut hole just big enough to drink out of.

I noticed he was wearing black undies with skulls and crossbones and no shirt, but he was wearing his  Johnny Depp tat and captain's pirate hat. I shook my head, hoping that when my eyesight readjusted, I'd see differently, but no, no, that's what I saw.

"She's not a man," I pointed to Fiona.

"DUH, ya think?" She said, hacking a coconut with a machete.

"So explain to me why she's here and part of our tribe, and why she's not a man," I said with a hint of smugness.

"She thinks like one," Tom W said, watching Fiona (done with the coconut) throwing palm fronds on the makeshift hut, then hauling wood she already chopped to the fire and finally heading out to spearfish in the bay.

I looked at him and thought at first he was wearing a sweater. Then I realised it was his hairy chest, and he was dressed in green undies with shamrocks around the waistband, all in an attempt to match his ethnicity. I tell ya!

I shook my head and looked out at the bay. It was turquoise blue, the sand sugary white, palm trees shading where we were, and abundant with coconuts (which would drop every so often, and a few times Weasil would get bonked on the head, but he seemed not to notice).

"Are there undead monkeys in those trees throwing coconuts at us?" Jaack said, pausing from forcing the lime in the coconut to look up into the fronds with apprehension in his kohled eyes.

"Nah, dey jus do datty dere ta keep us on our gamie," Weasil said after taking a long draw on my former coconut.

After the chorus of 'whats', we went back to zoning out.

"A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men, " Tom W. said, and once that sank in, we all nodded.

"Where did you hear that from?" I asked.

"From the guy that hosts this show, Wolfie." He replied, like I should have known that.

"Oh," I said, thinking about that, "where is he?"

"Probably asking his brood if they know where money comes from and then helpfully informing them it doesn't grow on trees. Typical Irish parent." Tom W said.

"Good one," Jaack said, nearly getting the smashed lime in the coconut.

Jaack didn't have long to smash the lime any deeper into the coconut because someone who had been standing in the background with a camera filming us told us to head for the day's competition at the other end of the island.

Thankfully, the island wasn't that big, and we didn't have far to walk, though Fiona snorkelled her way there with a load of caught fish.

"What a guy!" Tom W said, watching Fiona do the James Bond girl walk up the beach with the fish slung over her shoulder.

"Come on in, guys," Wolfie said, standing in a clearing. Get your first look at the We Are Woman tribe. Maggie was voted out for looking pretty."

"NO!" Fiona yelled, somewhat amazed to hear that or wondering why it wasn't her for looking too pretty. Whichever it was, she dropped the catch in her amazement and joined us. We guys just stood there and looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"Goodly choice, she'd prolly win da whole thingie wit 'er looks," Weasil said, letting his bag of undies fall to the ground. Yes, he carried a change of underwear wherever he went. Yup, he did, and all the boxers were the same with lips printed on them, though he told us later his wife kissed everyone, so that's how the lipstick got on his pristine white boxers. Uh-huh.

I looked across at the other tribe, and there, in their underwear, stood my wife, my muse, Dewdropper, and Grabiare.

Coconuts were dropping on Weasil's head from out of nowhere. Yet, even after the sound of the clunk on his hard head, they'd bounce to the ground, and he was no worse the wear, but the coconuts were rather smashed. I tell ya! There are times I think he has a steel plate in his noggin. Anyway, the We Are Woman tribe seemed fascinated with this occurrence.

"Okay, listen up," Wolfie was saying, "Weasil, time to take back the immunity idol."

But Weasil stood there clutching the idol to him, which I noticed for the first time was a carved wooden (and badly painted) coconut face and the face resembled ME! Me mustachio and carved on top -- me Sherlock Holmes HAT!

"Wait a minute, let me see that thing," I said, making a grab for it, but the young whippersnapper had it close, and it was Wolfie sneaking his hands in while we were tugging that got the thing from the Weasil's steely grip!

"Okay," Wolfie shouted, "immunity is up for grabs! Choose your teams, and we'll get to it."

No explanation of what we were getting to, just to pick teams. So, teams of two were picked since there weren't enough "survivors" for teams of three. I tell ya, me dreams get more and more FUBAR each time!

"Okay, who on Man Scouts is sitting this one out?" Wolfie asked.

"Oh, that would be me!" I said when they pushed me to the side. "Nice," I said, rather pissed at them, especially at Fiona, who shoved a tad too hard after the first shove and had me sitting on the ground.

"All right the object of today's challenge is for each team to race to the shoreline, untangle a rope holding puzzle pieces, then run back to the start with the bag. When your team has the two bags of puzzle pieces back to the starting line, the puzzle can be put together. Each teammate will be tied to the other to make this interesting. The first tribe to complete the puzzle will win reward. Do you want to know what reward is?" Wolfie asked to a general shout from both tribes of YEAH!

"You'll be playing for this," and like a magician, he pulled the tarp off every kind of sushi you could imagine. Everyone made barfing sounds, and the sight was enough to get me on me feet in startled repulsion that I was looking at sushi as a treat! I don't think so.

"Okay, okay," Wolfie grinned demonically and pulled a second tarp off a plate full of peanut butter that the flies were drawn to. Instantly, the tarp came off. "AND," he said, holding up a finger, "there are Ritz Crackers to go with the peanut butter and flies." And he continued grinning like his name was Lucifer.

There was a general grumbling by both tribes that if that was the best Wolfie had, well . . .

"Look, guys, this is the immunity AND reward challenge rolled into one. Let's get serious, shall we? So . . . we ready to get to the challenge?" Wolfie shouted at us, making us jump.

"Yeah, ::: SIGH ::: I guess so," was the general reluctant consensus.

"But yer sticking it to us!" Weasil shouted, obviously upset about the peanut butter. I think in his little shrivelled black heart, he wanted the sushi.

"On your start, get ready . . . GO!" Wolfie shouted, ignoring the Weasil. I watched as Fiona and Jaack took off down the beach, being outrun by Tonya and Grabiare. But Weasil and Tom W quickly made up the lost yardage as Dew and me Muse struggled to push each other out of the way to get to the puzzle bag. You'd think they were on opposing teams.

"I can't see for your hair. It's in my way!" My muse was shouting as she got her hands caught in Dewdropper's massive blond Afro.

"How short are you? I can't run without dragging you!" Dew hollered back.

Oh, it wasn't going so well for the We Are Woman team, nope, nope, noppers. The muse got her fingers unstuck while mumbling something about cotton candy, and Dew had adjusted her height to where she was on her knees to be the same height as my muse and crawling on all fours. But still, Dew was pulling out front, and me muse was taking three and four more steps to Dew's one crawl.

"Steady on, Thelma!" She shouted at Dew.

Well, Team Thelma and Louise, needless to say, came in last. It was painful to watch. There I was, secretly rooting for me muse, thinking if Wolfie dangled the bag of chocolates he was munching in front of her, she'd have won that round easily. But no, it was peanut butter . . . with flies on top. So no. Then, it dawned on me that the muse was throwing the challenge. She didn't want no stinkin' peanut butter! Why didn't I see that right off? It was going to be ME stuck with it.

I tried yelling to me team to slow it down, but no, they were in the heat of the moment and rancid peanut butter was in me future.

Since me team made it back in record time, we had the puzzle pieces out and ready to be put together. Since I was sitting it out I thought to encourage them wrongly so we would lose. But as I watched the puzzle come together, I noticed it was a puzzle of me face!

"Whaa . . ." I looked at the still-grinning Wolfie, who took a flask filled with Chivas Regal out of his hip pocket and toasted yours truly with it. I stood there, hands on hips, not happy with him, no, not at all.

Meanwhile, the four idiots that were me teammates had my mouth on my forehead, me eyes were where me mouth should go . . . I tell ya!


Somehow, they got done before the other team even opened their last bag. I had wondered why the puzzle people kept glancing at me. We (lucky us) won immunity AND the peanut butter. Did we jump up and down with glee? No, we did not. We stood there like ungrateful, hungry people stuck together on a deserted island, not liking where or WHO we were stuck with. Things got out of hand as we stood there, shoving each other violently for winning.

"I have some tickets to an anger management session," Wolfie said, holding up some white square pieces of paper. Where there was an anger management session on an island out in the middle of Japanese nowhere had us baffled long enough to forget our predicament. But not Weasil; he took a step out of our group of misfits and protested long and loud the unfairness of winning a mountain of peanut butter topped with flies and probably soggy Ritz Crackers.

"It ain't even da sweet kindie, it is RAW!" Weasil said, doing his best Chef Ramsey's impression, and then with arms crossed over his chest in an attitude of anger, he glared at Wolfie.

"It has protein in it," Wolfie said, gesturing towards the flies feasting on the stuff. "I am driven towards the conclusion that Mr. Weasil is drawn to protest whether telepathically or otherwise."

Well, true enough. But there was nothing to be done about it. Wolfie shoved the idol at Weasil, who had to drop the mad pose and take the thing, and then Wolfie turned to the We Are Woman tribe and said, "I've got nothing for you. Gather your things. I'll see you tonight at tribal council."

We refused the peanut butter and went back empty-handed to our tropical non-paradise and argued the whole way. Once there, Fiona got busy restarting the fire and getting ready to boil rice and beans. The fish she had caught we forgot entirely, and there would have been OUR sushi, but no, we were too mad over the raw peanut butter to remember. However, things had calmed down some.

"I  think we should go back there and get that sushi," Fiona said, her eyes red in the firelight.

"I would do it!" Weasil exploded, all re-animated, which was something we had tried to contain.

"It'll be moved to the tribal council area, and hopefully, it'll be refrigerated," Fiona mused.

So that night, we had planned a sneak attack on the sushi.

As we crept up to the massive tribal council area, we found we could file underneath it without being seen. But we could look up and see who was above us. We decided to send Weasil alone to scout out where the sushi was located, and the rest of us sat down to watch the tribal council.

"Why do YOU get to wear clothes, and we are in our undies?" Tonya asked Wolfie, who responded that he did not know the answer.

"Not knowing and lying is the mantra of this game." She insisted. "Last time we were here, we asked you about this, and you said you'd get back to us. Now you're telling me you don't know? We'll give you five minutes to get your act on par, but we are verbally noting you have done NOTHING to turn this problem of underwear around. PERIOD!"

"Interesting that you make that comment, Tonya. Your comment is much like the government shutdown. The shutdown was pointless because it was, and when you understand the Senate (Harry Reid), the White House (Obama) had the majority and didn't need the votes from the House, why did they not end the shutdown before 16 days? Perhaps they orchestrated everything to divert attention from administration failure to Republican failure? It's all in the polls! Let Obamacare take care of itself, now onto the immigration issue . . . "

"OH STOP! Why is everything so political with you?" Tonya shouted, covering her ears. "What you are really saying is that you get to wear clothes, and we get to run around in our underwear to keep the viewing public happy."

"I don't know why you get angry I'm the perfectly dressed host." He said smugly. "Is this how it is at home with you and Gabriel?" He asked.

"What you mean?" Tonya asked, doing that head bob thing that usually accompanies a challenge you don't want to go there to.

"Like one person's right and the other person in the room is the husband, so there is nothing to discuss?" Wolfie answered.

WHOA! I thought to meself, "Danger, Will Robinson Wolfie. You are headed into the danger zone if you don't let up." For sure, when Tonya's head bobs, it is an early warning signal. One should leave and not attempt to go THERE but go to a bar quickly until the all-clear signal is sounded the next day to go home.

Grabiare, seeing the chat going down the crapper fast, brilliantly lit up with, "But Obama turns to trusted sources to help with the health care website!"

All of us below were confused by this. She was leading Wolfie back to what he does best—political analysis—not getting to the vote!

"How right you are! We are drowning, or perhaps we are already gone and don't know it yet!" he said, grinning, but she didn't understand his double meaning. He wasn't agreeing with her! "Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi."

Not to be outdone, Dew piped up as well: "The Senators say Harry Reid told the caucus that Pete Sessions was behind the Obama insult! But we all know it's George Bush's doing! You implied that last time we were here."

"Uh, no. I did not. Bush was not my favourite by far, but this president is the worst the nation has ever had and that includes Jimmy Carter. You win, we lose, and I won't go down with my eyes closed as you have."

WOW, what was going on?

"More than 29 million people live as slaves!" Me muse shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Wolfie and I were thrown for a loop. " That is so ridiculous I can't even begin to respond. But you did say last week that voting out pretty people was futile and inane but necessary!"

 "Yeah, it was fun, I had the best seat." The muse said with a hint of arrogance. "I remember the moment you were standing there reading each vote, and you were not liking the way the voting was going."

"That's not true, I have no say in this game."

"Oh yeah, when she came up with her torch for you to dowse, you were staring at the big expanse of sky behind her, and it was like that star around her neck was real. I bet you drank a full bottle of wine after."

"That would be a first," Wolfie mumbled.

"Your comments were so judgemental it is worth noting." Me muse pushed further.

"Where in my comments after the fact was I judgemental? All I said was, too bad looks count for being voted off, and brains don't matter how well you play the game. To judge is above my pay grade and yours as well, obviously. Please note you judged me by accusing me of being "judgemental." I know not what is in your heart, nor you know what is in someone else's."

"However," Grabiare said, holding a finger in the air for emphasis. "It appears this nation and the world have forgotten God, and HE has put us under HIS judgement!"

Well . . . well said Grabiare, I think. Grabiare was getting all Irish Catholic, and I wondered where that would lead her. But none of this had to do with voting someone out of that tribe, or did it? The women had got Wolfie off on a tangent, and we were wondering if they weren't about to vote his arse off first. We were getting all flustered because Weasil hadn't returned, and even though we did not voice it to each other, we were sure he had found the sushi and was feasting on it all on his own. But this tribal council above us was all a ploy to get Wolfie so far off track he'd forget why he was there, and it seemed to be working! We were fecking impressed, well . . . sort of.

"What is this Meet The Press? I thought it was Survivor Pongo Bongo," Fiona said.

Before we could whisper answers, Weasil returned with a huge bag full of food! We sat there oblivious to the chat above us, which got heated at times.

"Where did you get this mate?" The captain asked.

"It wiz da staffie's foodies," Weasil said with a last mouthful.

"Uh oh," Fiona whispered, "we better get our quidditch on and fly the hell out of here before we get caught."

"Nah ha, we needies to findie outty who dey vote offie," Weasil said.

It was just then that we realised we had missed the vote. Somehow, Wolfie managed to get the conversation back to the game!

"The tribe has spoken. Time to go." Wolfie was saying as we looked up, trying to see who it was voted out.

"It's dat pixie person grabby yer arse in da air or sum thin'," Weasil was saying as we made haste to beat it out of there before the missing food was discovered. The last thing we heard was Wolfie addressing the women left.

"I guess if you have looks, you're out, and if you believe in the Obama Care website being trusted, you're also out. I can hardly wait for next week's tribal council. Grab your torches and head back to camp. Goodnight."

There was that funny finale jungle music, and we looked around, wondering where it was coming from as the women above us took up their torches and single-filed down the stairs. We waited for them to disappear before we did the very same thing.

After 15 minutes of whispering about the vote and what we overheard, we realised we were lost.

End Part 1

Gabe
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