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Survivor Psyche, Episode 8: Mission AbortedPage 2
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Hook, Line, and Stinker
The parasite and his clueless host skip through the woods. “I really value my relationship with Rob because he knows the game inside and out. I’m clueless and he’s really a great guy.” Rob is the sinister parrot whispering in Pirate Matt’s ear. “You’re my best friend! Squawk! You’re the best pirate ever! Squawk!” (Here’s a doubloon, Matt, buy a clue.)
Rob has been telling tall tales to Matt about how he, Matt, and Alex will be the Three Musketeers at the end. Rob wonders if all the lies he’s been feeding Matt will eventually bite him in the ass.
The First Shall Be Whacked
The tribe members receive huge clay masks that they decorate to look like themselves for the immunity challenge. Rob immediately focuses on “poor little me” and says that his mask has a Three Stooges haircut. (Come to think of it, Moe had more sex appeal.) Dave feels like his head is on the chopping block, and his mask reflects that sentiment, with liberal smearings of red paint. Butch’s idol is adorned with a pair of spectacles and a goatee.
It’s Amazon Trivia week, using the player’s masks as targets. When the players get an answer right, another player’s mask gets whacked. Logs are attached to ropes that can be released with three cuts of a machete. Of course, the big dogs, Dave and Matt, are singled out first. The battering ram takes Alex out next, followed by Deena. Hilariously, Rob the master strategist, misses every question, including one about the Amazon snake called a Bushmaster. Rob guessed that it was a kind of forest ranger, and tries to save face by joking that he meant “porn star.” Christy enjoys herself most of all, gleefully sending both Rob and Alex to their doom. It’s down to Butch, Jenna, and Heidi. A beleaguered principal is no match for two bratty cheerleaders, and only Jenna and Heidi are left standing. In a contest of wits, who will be the brighter bulb? Since Heidi got her mail order diploma from the Jamaican Gymnastic Institute, that leaves Jenna the winner by default.
Winning jewelry, even a nasty roadkill trinket, cheers Jenna up immensely. She simpers and preens as Probst places the necklace around her neck. (Here’s Jenna’s inner monologue: “Don’t I look pretty? Jewelry at last! It would look even better if I were naked!”)
Lost in Space
Victim-in-waiting Matt is off in his own little world, heedless of how bizarre his actions appear to the others. He’s using his razor sharp machete on his sneakers. “My objective for this afternoon is to MacGyver these into suitable sandals. I’ll be a much happier person as a result.” (Cue Twilight Zone theme here.)
Space Cadet Dave knows his number is up, but tries to swing some votes Matt’s way. Rob has finally got his rival, Dave, in his sights, but can’t resist whining about Dave to Deena and Jenna. Taking Dave down has become a personal vendetta to Rob, since Dave is everything that Rob will never be. Disguising his snipe fest as tactical information, Rob vents to Deena and Jenna about seeing Heidi and Dave snuggle. Jenna shrugs off the news. “Why wouldn’t Heidi snuggle with Dave, you nimrod.”
Tribal Council: Grounded
The condor guano is miles deep at this Tribal Council. Matt tells Probst that he thinks he’s found “true friends” since the merge. Rob, aka King Sh** of Turd Mountain, replies that he’s “so happy with Matthew’s progress! I think that he’s fit in so well. He’s really become an invaluable part of this tribe.” (Snort. Guffaw. Bwaaaah Haaaa Haaaa!!!) Naive sap Matthew nods happily.
Dave, the true target, shoots for the stars in a last ditch effort to win sympathy. “These next three days are important to me and I would like to spend them with the eight people that are sitting in front of me,” he grovels.
Probst asks Jenna if she would pass the Immunity Necklace to someone else, but her model training kicks into high gear. “It’s mine and I’m gonna keep it,” she smirks haughtily. (“Yes, Veruka darling, anything you want, dear.”)
Everyone, including Heidi and Butch, give Dave their vote, and blast our dreamy Star Man out of orbit. When it comes to the ladies, you’ve got the Right Stuff, but Survivor required your undivided attention at the control panel.
Next week: Rob’s treacherous minions challenge their master’s rule. “I’m calling the shots!”
Let’s look at the players.
Butch: Still the go-along-to-get-along guy this week. You followed the leader and voted against your own ally. Groveling will only get you so far.
Dave: Houston, we have a problem. Buddha says, “some people go through life as though they were asleep.” You’ve coasted through life on your intelligence and charm, until you got that nasty wake-up call that rocketed you back on your heels. Too bad it came too late, and now you’ve been beamed aboard the Mother Ship.
Christy: Still having fun this week. No one’s targeting you . They’re too busy trying to take each other out to notice you.
Heidi: You’re looking more like a shaved rabbit every week. The only difference is the rabbit is wearing an intelligent expression on its face.
Alex:You’ve managed to work yourself back into a position of power this week, which nobody can deny. But watch out, now that Dave’s gone. Your alpha dog status may single you out as the next hound to be neutered. Let’s hope Matthew’s mad dog routine continues to draw attention while you raid the hen house.
Deena: Last week, you ruled as Queen of the Amazons. This week, you’re the Dairy Queen – frosty! You played it very cool with Dave and kept the upper hand with the other players.
Matthew: Aaaar, Matey! If ye don’t wish to walk the plank, it would be best if ye aimed yer spyglass at that pesky parrot a squawkin’ in yer ear. He be a right foul bird, and will be sendin’ you straight to Davey Jones’ locker if’n ye don’t mind yer back!
Rob: You reverted back this week to the shameless little craven you’ve always been. It’s “all about me” again. How Dave has all the luck, all the girls, all the attention and you just get crappy masks and a cold, empty sleeping mat. Be a mensch instead of an icky little homunculus.
Jenna: You are mirthless, cold, shallow, and vain. Other than that, you’re the perfect representation of a swimsuit model. (Suzanne insists we put in a reference to Maleficent here. She’s just more likable than Jenna.)
Melinda Smith is a technical illustrator and writer with a background in graphic arts. She and her family live in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her sister, Suzanne Tromblay, is a licensed social worker with the State of Ohio. Melinda can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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