Scoopity whoop

Chapter 2 - You Snooze, You Lose... Literally
“Last time on Total Drama Lakeside!” begins Chris, who hasn’t moved at all since the previous episode ended. “We met our 16 contestants, watched them argue with each other for about 20 minutes, then did some pretty exciting introductory stuff. They were divided into two teams, the Artisanal Cheeses and the Killer Wildcats! Despite loads of complaints about my team names—I don’t get it, I think they’re both awesome—the two teams set off to their new dorms, where we’re gonna watch them get settled right now! Dear god, I just hope this time they talk about more interesting things than fundraisers and clothes and pineapple-scented body spray. I guess there’s only one way to find out whether they will, though, huh? You got it, that’s by tuning in right here, right now, on Total… Drama… Lakeside!”

[theme song]

The Killer Wildcats open up the door to their dorm, which looks shockingly well-kept - two distinct rooms with an old-fashioned college aesthetic, featuring giant windows with the curtains down in either room.

“I can’t wait to see that lovely view Chris told us about,” swoons Rachel, as she opens the curtains in the girls’ room to see… a giant dumpster completely blocking the lake.

“Oh, gorgeous,” says Erica, setting her stuff down. “Really showcases the lake well.”

Isabella takes a selfie with the dumpster in the background. “Haha, I’m such trash!”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna say I didn’t expect that,” says Kelsey. “Okay, I’m in the bottom bunk here. If you guys don’t want to see my computer screen at three in the morning, I’d suggest moving to those other beds.”

“Are you going to be binging Webflicks?” asks Isabella. “Because I’ve got to join in.”

“Uhhhh, that sounds a lot more fun than ‘writing a thesis,’ I’ll go with yes,” says Kelsey.

Rachel somehow jumps from the floor all the way to her top bunk and lands on her back. “This bed! So soft,” she says. “Soooo soft.”

“Okay, so I think we’re like the cutest girl gang,” says Isabella. “Like, did you see those girls on the Cheeses? Weird, right? We’re so much more adorable! Let’s take a group photo. Ooh, can we get Kingsley to take it?”

Kingsley, on cue, pokes his head through the door. “Excuse me?”

“Take this photo of us! You can be in the next one if you want,” offers Isabella.

“Ummm, I’m good, but I’ll take the pic,” says Kingsley dryly. “Let’s just get this over with, I guess.”

The four girls get into a pose with their arms around each other, all smiling to some degree with Erica’s exaggerated smile being the biggest of all. Kingsley takes the photo, then hands Isabella’s phone back to her as she giggles happily.

“Okay, they better not be turning me into their ‘honorary fifth girl’ or whatever,” grumbles Kingsley in the confessional. “I mean, that’d be less of an issue if they all slayed as much as Erica, but truth is, she’s the only one I can vibe with. Sis is, like, me-level funny and stylish. The rest just don’t have what it takes.”

“The Killer Wildcats aren’t too bad so far,” says Kelsey optimistically. “The name reminds me of that one musical about basketball or whatever. Maybe Chris is a fan? I don’t blame him. Either way, I can be all chill and friendly with the others no problem, but when I get stressed out I sleepwalk, so that better not happen for everyone’s sake.”

The boys of the Wildcats are unpacking their belongings as well. Christian unzips his giant suitcase to reveal many polo shirts and neon-colored shorts, all matching perfectly.

“Okay, boys, we’re gonna have to do some male-on-male bonding if we want to dominate,” he announces. “Let’s start with some icebreakers!” He walks up to Kingsley. “Rachel, smash or pass?”

All three pause for a while. “Are you kidding me?” asks Kingsley.

“Oh! Right!” says Christian. “Not your thing! How ‘bout this? Me, smash or pass?”

He stares at Christian, then walks over to Graham and Miles on the other side of the room. “Hey ladies, let’s get to know each other.”

“No homo, but that Kingsley dude is pretty hot,” says Christian. “I mean, I’m not saying I’d spoon with him in the middle of the night or anything, but I’m also not saying I wouldn’t.”

Miles unzips his small, trendy-looking backpack and takes out a Polaroid photo. It depicts a grinning brunette boy, who would be completely unrecognizable if not for his glasses, with his arm around a girl with wavy, dyed pink hair and winged eyeliner. He looks at it, sighs, then tapes it next to his bunk.

“So that’s the girl, huh? She’s beautiful!” says Graham.

Miles jumps up. “Uhhh, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“You’re hanging it on the wall,” says Graham. “It’s going to be broadcasted to the entire Total Drama viewing audience very soon.”

“Fine, yeah, that’s Jackie,” mutters Miles. “We ended things two years ago, and ever since then my mind has been a swirling miasma of tears and suffering… I still see her in the face of every girl I talk to…”

“Young love is so heartwarming, yet heartbreaking,” says Graham with his hand on his chest. “My condolences, but I think the best thing to do would be—”

He looks over at Miles, who suddenly has his headphones on and is vaping, then shakes his head.

Meanwhile, the Artisanal Cheeses are also moving into their dorm and having just as eventful of a time.

“Gorgeous view, y’all. That dumpster’s really tyin’ it all together,” says Rhett, looking out his window. “Y’all ever been dumpster divin’?”

“Are you kidding me, man?! You could get ebola from that!” says Suvir.

“Aw shucks, I don’t want no ebola! S’actually my greatest fear,” says Rhett, looking frightened.

“That’s what I like to hear,” says Suvir. “Your third eye will soon be opened! Dude, want to bunk together?”

“I don’t see why not,” chirps Rhett, as he climbs onto the top bunk.

“Rhett could totally be an alien or something, and if he is I just became the stupidest schmuck in the universe, but I’m going with my gut on this one,” says Suvir. “He’s super non-threatening! Now, those two other guys… I’m scared already.”

“So that means I have to be with you, Mr. Muscles?” complains Boris.

Roald grins and slaps Boris on the back. “Get pumped, Bro-ris! We’re gonna be going through a workout regime so rigorous you’ll be sweating BLOOD!”

“Oh, please. I do not concern myself with trivial activities such as gym-going,” says Boris smugly.

“Then what do you wanna do? Play croquet? I’m a pro-quet at croquet!” says Roald, as he laughs hysterically at his own pun. Whitney winces from the other room.

“I do not wish to socialize with you, or any of you other Cro-Magnons,” says Boris. “I will be competing in this game as a solitary figure!”

“Huh? I didn’t mean to insult ya, b-b-buddy,” says Roald. “Just extendin’ an olive branch!”

“Well then, I scoff at your puny olive branch,” says Boris. He takes out what looks like a giant manga compilation and starts rifling through it.

“What’d I do to grind that guy’s gears so quickly?” asks Roald. “I was just tryin' to do some gym-induced bonding! Aw, barbells, I’m so awkward sometimes...”

“I know he’s just trying to make fun of me, I was not born yesterday!” says Boris angrily. “Maybe if he shared some of my more esoteric yet sophisticated interests, such as Japanese catgirl anime, I would be more likely to socialize. But that is obviously not the case.”

Kaitlin, who is chugging her fifth beer of the afternoon, slumps onto a bed in the other room. “Okay, this is my bed, if anyone tries to steal my bed they’re going to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone’s begging to sleep with you,” says Whitney with an eyebrow raised.

“You know what? I didn’t come here to be victimized,” snaps Kaitlin.

“Look, I’d rather sleep with Artemis,” says Whitney. “Which is saying a lot.”

Artemis walks up to Whitney and pinches her cheeks. “Who wouldn’t rather sleep with Artemis?” she purrs. “You’ll have a front-row seat to exciting and sensual late-night performances, some involving that dumpster outside.”

Whitney blinks. “Never mind.” She walks over to Frances and sets her belongings down right by her bunk.

“Hi, don’t worry, I’ll be the perfect bedmate,” assures Frances. “I probably won’t even be in here much. Gotta get out and about and do as much reporting as possible.”

“That does sound promising, but I’ll believe it when I see it,” says Whitney.

Artemis walks over to Kaitlin. “Hello,” she says. “You and I? We’re going to have all sorts of fun. I can teach you about interpretive—”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” says Kaitlin. “You do like acting. I think I can work with that, huh?”

“Sweet, sweet Kaitlin, I don’t just like acting,” says Artemis. “I THRIVE in the world of the theatre.” She inches closer to Kaitlin, who looks at her skeptically. “Wanna smoke some hash?”

“Not… really,” says Kaitlin.

“Whatever,” says Artemis. “I’ll be outside. I'mma go house some beef.”

“That Artemis is making me deeply uncomfortable, but I think that’s her goal here,” says Frances in the confessional. “The whole licking people’s faces thing was weird enough, but now I hear she’s brought illicit substances to the competition? I think it’s hilarious, but she better not get us disqualified…” She gasps. “That is, unless Chris TOLD her to do it to increase ratings. Now that’s a story!”.

“My team is a bunch of goddamn lunatics,” whines Kaitlin. “Seriously, with these bozos as my competition, how am I supposed to get any camera time?!”

Later that night, as the sun is beginning to set by the lake, the teams exit their cabins and head over to Chris and Chef.

“Greetings, lakemates!” Chris says, and everyone stares at him in bewilderment. “Oh, come on. I thought that’d be a fun, quirky name for you guys. You’re a quirky bunch, and…” Crickets chirp. “Okay, fine, do you want me to just explain the challenge?”

“Yeah, Chris, just… do that,” whispers Chef.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Well then! You may notice that we’re standing on a paved path that snakes around the lakeside for a mile or two, maybe five. Your first goal as teams is to run to the end of that path, loop around, then run back to me and Chef! The first team to get all their members back will win something crucial! Capisce?”

“Caposh!” says Roald.

“I’ll give you guys five minutes to do a team huddle or whatever, and then we’ll get started,” says Chris.

Immediately, the Killer Wildcats huddle up and attempt to strategize.

“Okay, everyone,” says Kelsey. “Do we want to run in one big block so nobody can pass us? Or do we want to just spread out and rely on our obviously superior athleticism to do the trick?”

“I’m so ready to just start running right now,” says Rachel. “I can’t wait to breathe in the lake’s crisp air.”

“Sure, that’s great and all, but we need a strategy, don’t we?” asks Kelsey.

“I dunno, let’s just wing it,” says Christian. “We’re hunks. We can run fast. Simple.”

“Yeah, I like what he’s saying!” says Erica. “I’ve done dance for ten years, this is nothing.”

“I’ve never ‘winged’ anything in my life!” says a visibly stressed Kelsey in the confessional. “This team and I definitely have some… creative differences, so maybe I’ll step back from the leader role? I’m not about to put that level of pressure on myself.”

Meanwhile, the Artisanal Cheeses are also attempting to strategize for the upcoming race, but their definition of strategizing seems to differ quite a bit.

“I don’t feel fit to run, guys,” says Kaitlin. “Like, I’m already woozy.”

“C’mon, Kaity-bo-baity!” says Roald. “If you believe, you can achieve!”

“Okay listen, penguin boy, I had a heart attack three years ago,” retorts Kaitlin. “I’ll walk at a leisurely pace, but that’s IT.”

“I will not run either!” says Boris. “If the Warrior Goddess can’t do it, then I certainly cannot! I will stay here and not get involved with this so-called ‘challenge.’”

“Aw, c’mon, y’all,” says Rhett. “It’s as easy as one-three-two!”

“Yo, big bro, I got this,” assures Roald, and he takes Boris aside. “So you know that big orange guy on the other team? How he’s all muscly and hot and stuff? The best way to just stick it to him is to go BEAST MODE in this race! You gotta beat him!”

“Hmm…” contemplates Boris. “A very enticing offer indeed.” He pauses and thinks for a second. “Okay, I suppose, but only so I can assert my masculine dominance!”

“AWESOME!” cheers Roald. “Yo, Chris, we’re ready!”

A few minutes later, the contestants are all lined up at the beginning of the sidewalk, while Chris is on the sidelines with Chef, holding a supposedly fake gun.

“Total Drama Lakeside’s first challenge will be underway in five… four… three… two…” he says. He then fires the gun, which is definitely not fake, and yells, “GO!”

Most of the contestants take off sprinting, and in the front of the pack is Suvir, running at a breakneck speed. The other contestants stare at him in awe, some even pausing completely.

“Hey, when you know the world’s out to get you, you gotta keep your mind and body sharp!” says Suvir. “I know organized sports are just a front so the government can get kids all buffed up and send ‘em to sweatshops, but did I run track five years to hone my skills? You BET!”

Chris takes out a lawn chair and some sort of alcoholic beverage, puts on a pair of sunglasses, and sits down. “Chef, this really is the life.”

Chef is reading a dense mystery novel written by a “Helga Schreiber.” He side-eyes Chris and asks, “Hm?”

“Yeah, now that those teens are gone for hopefully like an hour, we can just sit and relax and—” Chris looks up, and Suvir is already back, breathing heavily. “HOW?!”

“Bro, I got the reflexes of a speeding tiger!” he says.

Before Chris can say anything else, Rhett, Roald, Erica, Christian, Isabella, and Kelsey arrive in one giant pack.

“Whoooo, that was nothin’!” says Roald, who is wheezing and looks on the verge of fainting.

“That was really fun, and I’m not even a big runner,” grins Isabella, looking up at Christian, who smirks.

“It only just hit me when we were running together, but Christian is totally cute,” squeals Isabella. “He’s exactly my type. I know I didn’t come on here to find love, but now I almost feel like I gotta!”

Rachel arrives next with a fistful of cattails. “I’m going to weave a dress from these. I love crafting wirh organic materials birthed from our Earth mother!”

Graham shows up soon after, panting. “Hey guys, just a PSA: Miles is back there walking!”

“Walking? Are you kidding me?” Erica says. “We’ll lose!”

“Yeah, I kept trying to socialize with him,” reasons Graham. “He’s a kind-hearted soul deep down, but he doesn’t really seem to care about… anything!”

Whitney and Artemis then show up, carrying an unconscious Kaitlin with one of her arms around each of their shoulders.

“She passed out about a mile back,” says Artemis matter-of-factly. “Think she’s drunk. Blackout, maybe.”

“This wasn’t something I agreed to do, by the way,” adds Whitney. The two let go and Kaitlin falls to the ground.

“Hmm, maybe she wasn’t kidding when she said she'd had a heart attack…” says Chris. “I probably should’ve examined those med forms a bit more carefully.”

Kingsley and Frances walk up to the group, deep in conversation. “Wait, so you wrote an exposé and showed it to the whole school just because she pissed you off?” he gasps.

“Well, it was technically an ‘editorial piece,’” responds Frances. “But… yes.”

“Bless,” says Kingsley, clasping his hands together. “We love a vengeful queen.”

“Hmm, isn’t that girl on the other team?” asks Kelsey quietly, and Erica nods.

“Okay, so that leaves two contestants left still running,” says Chris. “Miles and Boris! I think?”

Christian points to the slight turn up ahead, where Miles is sluggishly walking around the bend. “Ayo, there he is! LET’S GOOOO MILES!”

“You can do it!” cheers Kelsey. “Think of something happy to motivate you, like cupcakes or something!”

Miles sighs and takes off his headphones. “There’s no purpose in running…” he says. “Just makes me feel sad and tired, and I’m always sad and tired anyway.”

“Where th’ heck is that tub o’ lard?” asks Rhett.

“Oh, he’s coming,” says Whitney dryly, and she points to something.

Sure enough, Boris is right behind Miles, trying to run but wheezing and drenched in sweat. Miles walks up to the finish line, shrugs weakly, then sits down next to the rest of his team. Boris finally arrives seconds later, then collapses onto the ground and starts moaning.

“That was… disappointing to watch,” says Chris. “Anyway, the Wildcats win the first portion of the challenge! Here’s your reward!” He tosses them a single cup of coffee, which Erica catches.

“Wait, that’s not the whole challenge?” she asks. “I don’t even like coffee!”

Chris and Chef look at each other, then giggle mischievously. “Everybody, come with us to the director’s pad, we’ve got a special surprise for you,” says Chris.

“Ugh, I already don’t like Chris at all,” says Erica. “I came here for the competition, and the manipulation, and the social politics! Not to watch some washed-up 45-year-old man screw with us all day.”

The contestants are gathered around Chris in the “director’s pad” - a small but nicely furnished house that looks inhabited by college students thanks to the giant couch, the TV, the liquor bottles strewn about everywhere, the empty pizza box on the countertop, and the various questionable posters hung up on the walls.

“Here’s the deal. I know everyone just got here earlier today, and you’re not ready to actually compete in a challenge or vote someone off, blah blah blah, whatever. So, I’m gonna take pity on you guys,” says Chris. “I’m throwing you a party!”

“You ain’t lyin’?!” Rhett exclaims.

“Not at all, my friend,” says Chris. “For one night only, Chef and I are letting you into our exclusive living space to party it up, get to know each other, all the works. There’s food, drinks, and karaoke… somewhere, and Chef will be bringing a surprise up in just a sec!”

Chef trudges in, pushing a giant keg. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Whoooo boy, I don’t even wanna know what’s in there,” says Suvir.

“Fun and fancy, huh? This went over our budget by quite a bit, so don’t expect anything else like it,” says Chris. “Just putting that out there. Anyway, Chef and I will be upstairs if you need us, but I assume you won’t. And we won’t need you! Ha-ha! Happy partying!”

He and Chef walk away, giggling to each other once again once out of earshot.

Once the two get upstairs, Chris stops. “Let me just make some things clear,” he says in a hushed tone. “The Total Drama executive team is not responsible for any injuries, illnesses, or decapitations that may occur as a result of tonight. And besides, that keg is filled to the brim with non-alcoholic beer, so these kids don’t know what’s about to hit ‘em. Placebo effect, man!”

“Okay, there’s something reeeeally off about this,” says Frances back downstairs. “But I guess—”

A loud shriek is heard, and she glances over at Rhett and Roald who are already shirtless.

“My buddy Rhett’s about to do a KEG STAND!” yells Roald. “Aight Cheeses, let’s cheer him on!”

“I actually think I might’ve died during that race and gone to purgatory,” says Whitney.

“I’m a pro at chuggin’ down fluids,” boasts Rhett. “Once I even drank gasoline! Didn’t taste too great, but it went down nice n’ smooth, and how many dudes can say they done that?”

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” cheers Roald, holding up Rhett’s legs as he guzzles down the non-alcoholic beer. “C’mon, pals, cheer with me! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Rhett utters a primal roar as he continues to chug the beer. Suvir looks at him with wide eyes, but Roald grins and keeps cheering. Suvir then slowly tries to back away towards the door and bumps into Frances.

“Whoa! Sorry!” he yelps.

“Oh, hey,” says Frances, who has her notepad out. “All good. You trying to escape too?”

“Yeah, there’s bad juju in there!” says Suvir. “Gotta go outside and take a breather, you wanna come?”

Frances nods, and the two walk out the door and onto the porch, where they take a seat on the doorstep.

“Okay, I’m trying to formulate a piece right now, specifically one about our teammates,” says Frances. “They’re really something else. It’s a journalist’s paradise in there.”

“Yeah, it’s intense!” says Suvir, his eyes widening. “Here’s what I think so far: everyone else is a paid actor and they’re observing me from afar and trying to trap me in their world, like that one movie I saw! Also, there’s no way everyone else is fully human. Short guy on our team? I bet he’s a genetically modified penguin. And those other two girls are definitely a wolf and an ostrich, right?!”

Frances’s mouth is hanging slightly ajar like a fish. “I…” she begins. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten this much juicy material in one sitting before.”

“Whooo boy, there’s plenty more where that came from!” says Suvir. “Like, I’m pretty sure Chris McLean is a lizard person. Have you seen his weirdly smooth face and that evil grin? He totally got Slowtoxed up to hide his scales!”

“We’re really getting somewhere here,” says Frances, who's now beaming. “Okay, here’s my plan. I’m trying to lay low for these first few days and gather intel. Whitney and those two messy actress chicks were arguing earlier, right? Kept my lips super zipped.”

“That’s what you gotta do!” gasps Suvir. “Otherwise they’ll rope you into their weird cult!”

“Exaaaactly. Dude, you have some great ideas,” says Frances. “Want to be my associate editor?”

“Heck yeah, I do! You’re the only one with any common sense around here,” says Suvir, and the two high-five.

“This is exactly what I had hoped for!” says Frances in the confessional. “All afternoon, I was pretty nervous about having to do this alone, but Suvir is a perfect partner in crime. Sure, his methods of thinking are… unorthodox, but journalism in the modern era thrives on exaggeration. Just look at BumbleFeed.”

Back in the living room, Rhett is in the midst of yet another (or potentially still the first) keg stand, while Roald continues to cheer and Whitney looks on in horror.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” whoops Roald, and Rhett grunts again.

The others glance at him as his legs start to wobble until he suddenly collapses onto the ground, unconscious. A loud dinging sound is heard, and the two team logos appear on the top of the screen with a “7” next to the Cheeses and an “8” next to the Wildcats.

Nobody says anything for a bit until a door swings open upstairs. Sure enough, only seconds later, Chris walks down with a cup of coffee.

“The hell is he doing here?” grumbles Kaitlin, who’s apparently conscious again.

“I see we’ve had our first victim!” laughs Chris. “You guys didn’t really think I’d let you off the hook that easy, did you? Nope, this is our first challenge!”

“So you’re telling us that five-mile ass haul was for nothing, dude?” asks Christian. “...Sick.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re familiar with Total Drama’s iconic first season, then you’re familiar with the Awake-A-Thon,” says Chris, and most of the contestants groan. “The goal is simple, stay awake as long as you can, and whoever can dodge sleeping for the longest wins the challenge for their team! We figured the running, the partying, and the beer would just loosen you guys up a bit, and it sure has! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an episode of Catching Up With the Carcrashians to finish, so I’ll be upstairs. Nighty-night!” He smiles smugly, then leaves.

Artemis attempts to drag Rhett’s unconscious body onto the couch. “There, there,” she says. “You’ll be back and ruggedly handsome as ever in just a few.”

“Whoa, guys, Rhett went down swingin’!” says Roald. “I gotta break his record, someone hold me up!”

“Wait, no, that’s the worst idea you could possibly—” shouts Whitney.

Kingsley rushes over, grabs his legs, and Roald starts to chug. After not even five seconds, he falls backwards onto Kingsley and is knocked out cold.

“Had to snatch that opportunity,” says Kingsley, crawling out from under the fainted Roald. “Sorry not sorry!”

Over by the kitchen, the three non-Frances female members of the Artisanal Cheeses are standing awkwardly by each other and all seemingly avoiding a conversation.

“Okay, I don’t really want to engage with you two again, but we do have to stick together,” says Whitney, who’s reading a fashion magazine.

“Yeah, half our guys are down for the count, huh?” a once-again-drunk Kaitlin says. “Pfft. Pathetic. You’d think they could hold their beer better.”

“I’m not drinking tonight,” shrugs Artemis. “Gotta keep the mind and body fresh.”

“This party’s pretty lame anyway,” says Kaitlin. “Nothing interesting! No studs, nothing illegal going on, so I don’t care.”

“Mm, it certainly needs some spicing up,” says Artemis. “Guess I’ll take off my bra, blast my nips—”

“Okay, let’s hold off on that,” says Kaitlin. “Let’s just try to look cool, let the people come to us, you know?”

“I suppose,” responds Artemis, then she jerks her head violently and gasps. “Ooooh, hottie alert at 11 o’clock.”

Graham, holding the Wildcats’ cup of coffee, awkwardly walks up to Whitney as Kaitlin tries to avert her eyes and Artemis stares him down.

“Hey,” he says to Whitney. “I needed to get away from it all, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” she responds, and starts to walk in the opposite direction.

Graham starts to follow her as she keeps walking. “I’m sorry, I really just wanted to chat!” he calls out. “Shoot the breeze, you know?”

“Listen, dude, have we even talked before? Aren’t you on the other team?” Whitney asks skeptically.

“You do know me… kinda,” he says, blushing. “Earlier you asked me what was wrong with my mustache, then said I looked like an octogenarian. I wouldn’t forget that.”

“That’s an issue, because I already did forget it,” says Whitney. “I’m sorry, I’m not really gaining anything from this conversation.”

“Oh, I-I-I understand!” stutters Graham. “I guess I’ll go talk with… my teammates.” He winces. “See you around, I suppose?”

Whitney grunts slightly, then walks towards the bathroom. Suddenly, the bathroom door bursts open and a curtain of smoke comes billowing out. Boris, fully nude except for a towel wrapped around his waist, steps out and breathes a satisfied sigh.

“Ah, that was refreshing!” he proclaims. “My body has been given a 1up!”

As Whitney takes one look at the near-nude Boris, her eyes widen and she collapses onto the ground. A nearby Graham facepalms and walks away.

“Do I have a crush on Whitney?” he asks himself in the confessional. “Well, it’d be silly to say yes since I’ve known her for less than 12 hours and have traded maybe five sentences with her, but she’s wonderful! I know I come off as some sort of weirdo when I talk to her, so maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and write some poetry. She’s so beautiful in the abstract…”

The four female Killer Wildcats are visiting on the couch, each holding a red cup filled to the brim with beer.

“So guys, tell me about yourselves,” says Isabella. “Any boys here you think are cute?”

“Um, I actually have a boyfriend,” says Erica.

“Do you?!” exclaims Isabella, touching Erica’s shoulder. “That’s soooo romantic! Have you guys been dating for like five years? Did he get you a promise ring?”

Erica looks at Isabella, confused. “We’ve been dating for a year and a half. Ugh, he’s such a sweetie. I never really thought I was into guys like him, but I guess… I am.”

“Wow, a year and a half?” gasps Rachel. “That’s intense! I’m more of a one-to-two-month type of gal.”

“Oh, I totally get it,” says Erica. “I know tons of girls like that. Nothing but respect.”

“Mmmm, good,” nods Rachel. “I just… don’t like to be tied down, you know? I prefer to drift along with the wind. And usually I date angsty musicians, like that Miles guy.”

“Ew, you’re into Miles?” says Isabella. “He’s… weird.”

“Noooo, I never said I was INTO him, I just have experience with a lot of boys like that,” says Rachel. “They’re sweet. Misguided, but sweet.”

“Okay, I think that Christian guy is suuuuper cute,” chirps Isabella.

“Christian, really? He’s one of those classic athletic boys,” says Erica. “See, that’s the type of guy I used to like, but… not anymore.”

“So you guys all have experience, I take it?” Kelsey pipes in. “Ha, I don’t. Sometimes I wish I could go out there and date, but I do so much with my free time already. It’d be the straw that broke the camel’s back for sure.”

“You poor soul,” says Rachel. “Having someone to take in the regal majesty of the world with is always worth it.”

“Okay, like, no need to feel sorry for me,” laughs Kelsey. “It's a conscious choice. I’ll go to club formals with guys, but otherwise I wouldn’t want to put anyone through… me.”

“Yeah, drinking isn’t my favorite because it makes my emotions just spill out,” says Kelsey. “But I guess there are worse ways I could be spending my time. Like, I could be having a full-on sobbing breakdown in the library at 3:30 in the afternoon again.” She blinks. “Did I say again? I didn’t mean again. I meant… wow, that’d be a lot worse than getting drunk, wouldn’t it?”

“Kelsey, uh…” says Isabella. “I just wanted to know if you thought any boys here were cute. Didn’t want to talk about all those emotions and stuff.”

Kelsey looks at Isabella with an eyebrow raised, then Rachel pipes up. “Who wants to see my tattoos?” Rachel rolls up her jacket sleeve and shows off a tattoo of a giant purple feather on her shoulder. “I got this one last year. I just think feathers and I have so many similarities… floating around aimlessly, but carrying this serene beauty as well.”

“Love it,” says Kelsey dryly. “I’m sorry, uh… yeah, those are some cool tattoos, Rach.”

“Great! I just want us all to be as happy as possible,” says Isabella. “Don’t worry about boys, they’re not worth you. You’re so gorgeous.”

“...You two want to go for a walk or something?” Erica asks, unsubtly eyeing Rachel and Kelsey. The two nod, and begin to stand up.

“Wait! Guys!” says Isabella, rushing over to the TV. “Check out this karaoke! Want to do a round?”

Rachel is about to say something until Isabella turns on the machine, a ‘70s Europop number starts playing, and she begins to belt. “OHHHHHHH, YOOOOOOU CAN DAAAAAANCE—”

The other three leave quickly, and Isabella continues to sing. A wasted Christian carrying three empty red cups staggers up to her, and she turns around and gasps.

“Christian! Oh no, did you hear my singing?!” she yelps.

“Yeahhhhh baby, I did,” he says. “Yo, you and me, let’s leave this room. C’mon baby, let’s go get to know each other upstairs.”

Isabella’s face turns red and she nods excitedly. “Okay!”

“Hahahahaha,” says Christian in the confessional. “She’s hot, man.”

He puts his arm around her, and the two dart upstairs and open up a random door. To their shock, the room is already occupied… by Chris McLean, wearing a red velvet bathrobe and watching TV, and Chef, who’s in nothing but boxers and reading his mystery novel.

“HEY!” yells Chris, jumping up. “This is a contestant-free zone!”

Christian rapidly closes the door and the two start hyperventilating. “Uhhh, let’s relocate,” he says.

“I’m so glad to see you! I love my girl gang and all, but they’re kinda… downers,” says Isabella. “They gotta learn to appreciate la dolce vita, you know? That’s my motto!”

“Yeah, life, it’s sweet…” slurs Christian. “Super sweet. Hey, y’know what else is sweet? You.” She blushes again. “Wanna make out or something?”

“Hahaha, of course I do!” purrs Isabella.

The two open up another door, this one to an empty room, and instantly shut it. Seconds later, Miles trudges up the stairs with his guitar and opens up the same door. He sees the two canoodling on the bed, turns around with a look of terror, then slams the door shut.

“Of course there’s already love connections forming on my team…” says Miles. “I just don’t understand why it happens to everyone except me. The worst thing is, walking in on that reminded me of the time my brother walked in on me and Jackie three years ago in the back seat of my dad’s Prius… I’ll never have memories that precious again.”

Miles starts to walk back down the stairs, and runs into the other three girls from his team opening the door up from outside and walking in.

“Oh, it’s Miles,” says Rachel, smiling slightly. “Hi! Do you want to see my tattoo? I think if my whole team sees it, we’ll become harmonized.”

She lifts up her jacket sleeve again and shows Miles her feather tattoo. He stares at it, his eyes begin to water, then he gulps.

“I’m, uh, gonna go to sleep,” he says. “It’s fine if we lose… Just vote me out or something.” He walks away and slumps onto the ground.

Erica looks like she’s about to say something, but Kelsey interrupts. “You know, it’s cool. We still have seven… right?”

“Two of them are upstairs, exploring each other,” says Rachel cheerfully.

Kingsley then walks up to the three in a velvet purple robe that’s not too different from Chris’s and a pair of bunny slippers.

“Hey babes, I need my beauty sleep,” he yawns. “Nothing personal! Y’all are strong, you got this. Oh, and Graham’s out cold over there.” He points in a vague direction.

“This is totally fine,” says Erica, who doesn’t look fine. “If they’re… doing it, they’ll be up for a while.”

Rachel walks up to the snoring Graham, waves her hand in his face, and gets no response. She shrugs and lies down on the couch right next to him.

“I’ve heard that if you, like, sleep next to someone, there’s a chance you’ll have the same dreams!” she says, before yawning and closing her eyes.

“Are they seriously just letting us lose?” Kelsey asks. “I can’t belie… wait, I guess I’m a little tired too.”

“Sadly, I didn’t share any dreams with Graham, but he was snoring suuuper loud,” states Rachel. “I got a hint of his breath, and it smelled like those hard candies the elderly keep in decorative tins. I think his whole look is so beautifully postmodern.”

Right outside, Suvir and Frances are watching the drama unfold from the front porch window.

“Whoa, this is waaaay too suspicious!” Suvir says. “They’ve gotta be making some sort of nefarious plot to throw the challenge!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” gasps Frances. “Astute observation. I mean, I’m fine with winning, but this kinda cheapens it, huh?”

“It’s all good, I’m gonna win fair and square! I ain’t trying to sleep at ALL tonight!” says Suvir. “My average is three hours, but lately I’ve been pulling two and a half.”

Frances nods. “Hmm, I see. I assume it’s because you’re too wary of potential threats to be unconscious during the most crucial moments of the night?”

“You got it!” says Suvir. “I mean, I used to sleep like a dang baby. That was back when I was younger and more optimistic, and my mind hadn’t been expanded. It was only recently when I—” He turns over to look at Frances, and she’s asleep sitting up. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Many hours later, it’s sunrise. An undead-looking Chris, still in his velvet robe, walks downstairs with a steaming cup of coffee to see most contestants asleep in various corners of the room.

“You’re still up?!” asks Chris, looking at Artemis who’s sitting perfectly still right next to a passed-out Kaitlin.

“Sure I am,” she shrugs. “A true actress never succumbs to the pressure of the elements.”

“Okay, well…” he continues, walking to the door. “All the Wildcats are down, I think? I don’t want to venture into that room upstairs, I think everyone knows what I’m talking about.” He opens the door to see Suvir, who’s shivering in fear and right next to the still-asleep Frances. “Whoa! Dude! You’re awake too?”

“Yeah, man, how could I not be?!” he answers. “Franny’s incapacitated! The pod people got her!”

Chris nudges Frances with his foot, and she stirs a little bit. “Nah, she’s fine,” he says, and he takes out a megaphone from his back pocket. “Prepare your ears!”

Minutes later, everyone is back in the common room of the director’s pad, looking very tired and grumpy and some even rubbing their ears in pain.

“Well, I don’t know how you guys did it, but Cheeses,” announces Chris. “You win our very first challenge!” The Artisanal Cheeses erupt into cheers. “Head back to your dorm, you’re safe tonight.”

As the Cheeses walk away, Roald approaches Boris. “Hey, buddy! I see you did pretty well last night,” he says.

“Why yes, I did,” says Boris. “I was in the midst of a very important anime! It was only my 17th time watching it, I had no time for sleep!”

“Haha, anime, cool and stuff!” says Roald. “Hey, listen. Y’wanna go to the gym with me tomorrow?” Boris looks at him, stone-faced. “C’mon! It’ll be a great time!” Boris continues to say nothing. “Uhhhh, maybe you’ll be able to beat up that preppy guy!”

“Fine! I am in,” says Boris. “But only this once. If I suffer any physical mishaps, I will never utter a word to you again.”

“Heh, that’s totally fine with me, bro!” says Roald. “Lezzdothis!”

“On the other hand…” continues Chris, standing by the losing team. “Wildcats, you’re not looking too killer tonight. Vote someone out relatively soon, then meet me at the bandshell by the water!”

Most of the Killer Wildcats gulp. “I mean, we tried… kinda,” shrugs Kelsey.

“I’m not surprised we won the challenge,” says Artemis frankly. “I may or may not have been on stimulants all night. What? It’s method acting.”

The atmosphere is tense in the Wildcats’ cabin, as everyone seems to be dodging the elephant in the room. Miles is sitting on his bed, tuning his guitar and repeatedly sighing.

“Hey man, stop playing. I’m trying to concentrate,” says Christian.

“I would if someone else asked me to, but as it stands, no,” retorts Miles. “Go hang out with your new girlfriend if it bothers you so much…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, how’d you know about that?!” Christian exclaims. “I mean, it’s good that you do. It was some quality puss. But that was confidential!”

“It was written in the stars from the start,” says Graham. “Your personalities melded so naturally, and so…”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Christian raises an eyebrow. “You wanna go, Abe Lincoln?”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you at all!” Graham says, shaking his head. “Plus, Abe Lincoln didn’t have a mustache, right?”

“Man, I’m outta here, you guys are the worst,” says Christian, taking out his vape and walking to the girls’ room.

“You know, I’d vote him out, but he’s nice to look at,” says Kingsley from the bed, taking out an earbud. “Plus, like—”

Kingsley is interrupted by Christian coming back into the room, this time with his arms around Isabella.

“Hello!” says Isabella happily. “Oh wow, Kingsley, you’re really working that pose.” She pulls out her phone and snaps a photo of him lying near-motionless on his bed. “Wait, where’s my sisterhood?”

Right on cue, the three remaining girls walk into the room. “We’re strategizing!” says Rachel, flashing a peace sign.

“Rachel, don’t SAY that,” hisses Erica.

“I mean, it’s true, is it not?” says Kelsey. “We’re going to have to vote out somebody. I’m personally undecided, but if you guys have any compelling arguments, hit me.”

Isabella frowns. “Can’t we just vote for Chris or something? That’d be funny! I don’t like drama.”

“Kelsey, I’ve got an argument,” says Erica. “It requires some privacy, of course.” The three girls leave the room.

An awkward silence ensues, and after a few seconds Miles starts tuning his guitar again. Christian shouts several bleeped profanities.

“I can’t in good conscience vote for anyone else except that turd Christian…” mutters Miles. “He reminds me deeply of the man my ex cheated on me with… Just some blonde slimeball who thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“I don’t want to vote for anyone,” says Isabella. “They’re all so sweet. I mean, most of them are… Graham and Miles kinda make me uncomfortable. They’re always talking about their feelings and stuff, and I thought guys were a lot more chill than that?”

“Hey fans, welcome back to another installment of ‘What Is She Wearing?,’” says Kingsley in the confessional. “Today’s victim? Isabella. What is she wearing? A plain black long-sleeved crop top, isn’t that a little impractical? And those grimy blue jeans? Horrendous. Ugh, she’s like the worst local I’ve ever met. Soooo yeah, I’m voting for her.”

Rachel is intensely eyeing the voting ballot. “Wow, this is so cool,” she says. “I wonder what it’s made out of? Recycled paper? If so, Chris, you have my respect.”

Night falls, and Chris meets the Killer Wildcats at the elimination ceremony, this season taking place at a large bandshell on a rocky outcropping overlooking the lake.

“Well, here we are,” he says. “Now, I’m not going to critique your skills just yet, but… come on, guys, that was pathetic. I mean, seriously?! You lost to the team that had two guys pass out within seconds? Anyway, let’s get right to it, huh? This time around we’re back to marshmallows, and that’s not because our budget wouldn’t allow for anything else. Trust me, I just like the nostalgia. But the rules are pretty simple: the person who does not receive a marshmallow has to walk down the Beach Trail of Shame, catch the Yacht of Losers, and fade back into irrelevancy. Oh, and you can’t come back, EVER.”

“With all due respect, Chris, can we hurry this up?” asks Kelsey. “I’ve got a Skype interview with my advisor in…” She checks her phone. “15.”

“Gosh! Fine!” says Chris. “You know, Kelsey, I’d eject you just for that, but unfortunately you didn’t get any votes. Marshmallows for you, Erica, Kingsley, and Graham!”

The four catch their tossed marshmallows, and Kingsley swallows his whole.

“Rachel and Christian, don’t ask me how, but you’re safe as well,” says Chris.

As the two grab their respective marshmallows, Miles and Isabella share a glance. Miles weakly sighs, while Isabella looks slightly terrified but is still grinning wide.

“Lady and gentleman,” says Chris. “There’s one marshmallow left on this plate. Miles, I think your fashion sense alone is grounds for an elimination, and Isabella… maybe you were too happy? Heck if I know. The final marshmallow goes to…”

“...Miles.”

Isabella stands up. “Wait, what? Me?” she says in shock. “Aw, you guys… I’m sorry if I did anything wrong.”

“Yeah, c’mon, this is BS!” says Christian. “Psst, babe, I know you gotta bounce and all, but one more kiss?”

“Uhhhhh,” she says, sweating. “Sorry, that was just a casual affair. It was really fun though!”

“I’m dreadfully confused as to why any of that happened, but regardless, I hope your life is fruitful!” says Graham, extending his arm for her to shake.

Isabella looks at Graham and shivers, then walks over to her female teammates. “I’ll never forget my girl squad,” she says.

“Bye,” says Erica curtly.

“Um…” continues Isabella. “One last selfie with everyone before I go? You guys can all get in… I guess! Even Chris, if you want!”

“Nah, I’d rather n—” begins Chris, but Isabella rushes up right next to him with her phone out. The majority of the other Killer Wildcats crowd in behind Chris, and Isabella takes about 10 selfies, then stuffs her phone back in her pocket while smiling wide.

“That was so presh,” she says, admiring her photo as she walks to the Yacht of Losers and begins to board. “See you later, everyone!”

The boat sails away as the Killer Wildcats walk back to their dorm room, most of them with relatively indifferent facial expressions.

“I know Isabella seemed all nice and sweet and everything,” says Erica. “But I didn’t buy that for one second. She’s just like the girls I used to be best friends with in high school, all goody-goody to your face but vapid and superficial and obsessed with the dumbest things. I’ve moved past that point in my life, and she was dragging me down. She had to go. One more thing? Christian was waaaaay too good for her.” She swoons. “Don’t tell my boyfriend!”

“Wow, uh…” says Chris, closing out the episode with Chef by the lake. “Chick’s got some baggage, huh? How will the Killer Wildcats deal with the wrath of a frat boy? Will they manage to pull it together for the next challenge? Will the Artisanal Cheeses recover from their non-alcoholic beer-induced hangover? Find out next time on—”

“Uhh…” says Chef, looking down at the ground.

“What now?!” snaps Chris. “Ruined my outro!”

“You, um, never specifically told me to get non-alcoholic beer,” says Chef. Chris looks at him in horror. "I'm sorry, I was jus' all engrossed in that mystery book, and..."

Chris stares at Chef, a gigantic fake smile plastered on his face. “Let’s talk about this later tonight, shall we?” he says through gritted teeth. “Tune in next time on Total Drama Lakeside, and just so you all know, all 16 of our contestants are well over 21! See ya later!”