Title: Johnny Survivor

Rating: PG

Summary: (The past 3 chapter summaries give you the gist.) Some... unexpected plot twists chapter. Stuff even I didn't see coming. I tell ya... these people are insane when grouped together on a virtually uninhabited island.

Disclaimer: Forgot to check this week; I still don't know if I own myself. Just as well, the less I own, the less liability I can be subjected to. Or that's been my reasoning.

Author's Notes: You people make me laugh and then some. Until a week goes by. If the candyettes don't tide you over, might I suggest a stress ball or some M&M's? After all... voting lasts 3-4 days. I'll make it up to you for making you wait so long. This chapter is officially the longest page and word-wise. Enjoy, my candyette chain-chewers.

Chapter 4- Go Inaga, it's your birthday...

Last time, on Johnny Survivor

--- The tribes were engaged in a chug-a-lug contest of epic proportions. A smoothie made from, among other things, maggots, fish guts, eyeballs and sweet potatoes was placed before each Survivor who had to drink up. In a surprising twist, Axel refused to touch the concoction, allowing Mort time to polish off his drink and clench a victory for Hahaga. Inaga must again fact Tribal Council.

Inaga- Tribal Council

---"Welcome back, Inaga, though I doubt very much you're happy to be back," the host smiled slightly as he watched the silent contingent that was the diminished Inaga tribe. There was a shuffle to their step and heads hung lower than normal, aside from Axel who was stubbornly trying to combat the depression hanging over the group. They filed into their seats and glanced at the host with somber expressions.

"So, tell me. What went wrong this time around? Sam?"

"It wasn't really the most... appetizing of foods... that you put in the drink. I'm sort of used to it, but it doesn't lessen the blow any. It was almost... inedible," Sam replied quietly.

"Okay, I'll probably agree with you on that one. Gilbert, you're quiet over there. What's your take on this divine comedy?"

"Well... it's becoming so much like... a soap opera. If it's not one problem, it's another. Between Spencer and-..."

"Hey, watch it!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Spencer and Ichabod and Axel and... it's just insanity. It stopped making sense awhile ago, so I've just been trying to get by."

There was an inauspicious glance of scorn directed at Gilbert for his 'Woe is me' comment.

"Okay, fair enough. I don't suppose you have any strategies for these next 3 days, Donnie?"

"Cooperation is just key. We've gotta' cooperate. It's like that Franklin quote, y'know? We all hang together and so forth. More team work and just... hope for the best. Maybe Hahaga will be crippled next time."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"With our luck? We'll need all the help we can get."

"Point taken. All right, time to vote. Axel, you're up."

Axel sighed and made the long walk to the voting table. Not that it was really a table per se, but it's still up for debate as to what someone ought to call it. He scribbled a name down, murmured into the camera, and deposited the folded ballot into The Jar. He sat down and Ichabod trudged to the private circle.

Ichabod

---"You bother me greatly. I'm still voting for you," Ichabod held Spencer's name out at arm length.

Spencer

--- "You all bother me greatly. But I'm going for Axel this time. You're the reason I'm here tonight. Since I don't have a wheelchair and an absolute peach to drive me around, I'm not having fun. When I don't have fun, someone pays. You're it, fish head."

Donnie

--- "Much as I despise Spencer, I think I've got a strategy worked out. Sorry to have to do this, you're not so bad... don't know why you insist on doing what you do, but I won't tell you what to do. I'm just playing the game and you are unfortunately in my way. Good luck, buddy, nothing personal."

Sam

--- "I... didn't... want to do this. I don't like to. I'm sorry."

Inaga- Tribal Council

--- "I'll go tally up the votes," the host's lips tightened in sympathy. Inaga was silent as the host too made the symbolic trip to the disgraceful podium of elimination. The pot was tucked neatly under his arm as he returned.

"Once the votes are read, the decision is final. The first vote-..." he buried his hand inside and began to fish for an elusive paper. "Spencer."

Spencer hid his immediate anger remarkably well. He settled for a huff and a dramatic eye roll.

"Gilbert."

Gilbert said nothing, though he looked to be pondering the circumstances as to his vote.

"Tobey."

Tobey bit his lip.

"Spencer."

Spencer's smile became even more insane under the fire's glow and the drugged glaze in his eyes.

"Tobey."

The man who wouldn't be Sancho Panza took a deep breath.

"Axel."

Axel shook his head.

"The next person voted off the island..."

This time, the name read 'T-Dawg'. Tobey gulped.

"Tobey, bring me your torch."

If it was possible, Spencer seemed concerned for someone that was not himself. He grasped Tobey's hand in a hard grip, eyes sharp but with a twinge of sympathy. With a final slap to the shoulder, Spencer sat back down and watched as Tobey took on the roll of Dead Man Walking.

"The tribe has spoken."

The putter-outter came up, and suffocated Tobey's sputtering flame. He hefted his pack, and walked away.

Tobey

--- "I... I have no idea what happened. I don't know what I did, what people were thinking. I fish! I have a thing with fish! If it has to do with my stance with Spencer, I can only hope they stop being so petty. Spencer's not pure evil... just sadistic."

Gilbert

--- "I didn't think my strategy of flying under the radar would work too long. I'd sort of hoped it'd be longer than 9 days... but what are you gonna' do?"

Axel

--- "Spencer, stop holding grudges. It's not healthy."

Spencer

--- "Humans so bother me."

Inaga- Night

--- It was another late night for Inaga as the 6 remaining Survivors made the dark walk back to camp. Nobody cared to sleep, but it was eventually agreed that a little sleep would be much appreciated over a depression-filled insomnia shift. The fire was almost out the next morning.

Hahaga- Morning

--- "You know what, you're an a-..."

"Duke glared at Fred. Fred glared back, but neglected to finish his sentence.

"I know I am. And I'm proud of it," Sands smiled lazily.

"Can't you be a little less smug about these things?" Fred was losing his cool.

"But where would the fun be in that?"

"Maybe having a chance later in the game, when it's down to the final 2. Who are you gonna' vote for: the wise guy or the friendly one?"

"Wise guy. He didn't win a popularity contest and he won by being tricksy. Good on him," Sands shrugged. This obviously wasn't the answer Dred was looking for; the furious Inspector stormed off.

"I can't believe I let you sleep next to me! Argh!"

Edward jumped at the noise. Things weren't looking good for the favored team. And to think it started with an 'innocent' comment about bananas made by the sarcastic agent.

"Perhaps... you should be a little nicer to him," Edward ventured as Sands plopped down onto a soft spot in the dirt. Instead of immediately retaliating, Sands took a moment to read Edward's pale face.

"I wouldn't concern yourself with my affairs. Fred's right, I am..." Sands broke off to glance at Duke and decided against it." I'm not the nicest of guys. Unless your name's Chicle, which I highly doubt. The best bet is for me to shut up and we all know that can't happen."

"Why not?" Edward asked in response to Sands' lopsided grin.

"Because I like to talk, savvy?"

"Savvy?"

"Entiendes? Comprende? Capiche? Can you dig it?"

"Uh..."

"Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes!" Edward nodded vigorously.

"That's good, buddy. Now all I need is a way to keep Fred off my back. Or at least less sensitive. Any ideas?"

"Just... don't yell. Don't be mean," Edward cocked his head.

"I fear you're asking the impossible, boyo."

"Boyo?"

"Sorry, my angel's been rubbing off on me. It's unimportant. I sure hope you give good advice; I don't think I'm in good standing right now."

Edward gave a half smile.

Hahaga- Afternoon

---"Wake up, sleepy head," Bon-bon giggled as he prodded Mort with a finger. Mort was sun-bathing in a pair of blue shorts, his complexion already vastly improved. Then, Bon-bon had decided that Mort had had enough alone time.

"Come on, Pooky, open up those eyes," Bon-bon persisted in his teasing. Mort slapped the dainty hand aside and cracked a cold eye open.

"Ah don't appreciate it when nosey people dictate when 'n where Ah can take a nap," he drawled softly, Southern accent very prominent. Bon-bon recoiled slightly, wondering if this was some new game.

"Well, I'm sorry you think me nosey," Bon-bon tried.

"Iffin ye'd like to stick around on this here island a bit longer, Ah'd skedaddle if I were you," Mort growled, still making no move to get up.

"But Morty-bear... I want to be with you," Bon-bon whined plaintively.

"Ah ain't this Morty-bear you speak of," 'Morty-bear' practically spat.

"But who else could you possibly be?"

"The name's Shooter."

"Shooter...?"

"Tha's right, liddle lady," Shooter drawled, death-glare still not fading.

"Oh... my..." Bon-bon glanced around, hoping someone else had caught this stunning development. The closest people were Sands and Edward who were engrossed in their own conversation. "Well... Mr. Shooter... what have done to my Morty-bear?"

"Your 'Morty-bear's no longer here right now. He's not dead-..." Shooter managed to look disappointed about this," he's just not upstairs, iddin you know what I mean."

"I don't know why I should. I just want Morton back... savvy?" Bon-bon stumbled on the unfamiliar word she'd picked up from both the pirate and agent. She had a vague idea idea abou what it meant, but it was still a new toy to be experimented with.

"Ah assure you that Morton ain't gonna be back for awhile yet."

"Oh... can you give him a message for me?"

"Ah wouldn't push my luck if I were you, missy."

"You don't have to be so rude," Bon-bon's attitude did a 180; se became feisty and angry.

"Easy there, now, Ah didn't mean nothin' by it," Shooter cowed slightly under Bon-bon's wrath.

"Then you won't mind giving him a message," Bon-bon glared.

"Ah don't seem to have a choice in the matter," Shooter looked hurt.

"No. Now tell him that when he comes back out to play that his presence is demanded on my side of the shelter. Promise to tell him?"

"He's not gonna 'pprecriate that much," Shooter warned.

"Tell him!" she hissed.

"Well you're jumpier 'n an armadillo on a hot plate. All right, Ah'll tell 'im."

"Thank you," Bon-bon glanced at him haughtily before skipping back to the beach. At the sight of the exaggerated walk and bizarre swing in her hips, Shooter felt his heart flutter just a bit.

Shooter

--- "Ah don' know what came over me... I just felt connected to her. Ah... Ah think I'm gettin' some feelin's for her!

Inaga- Afternoon

--- "Spencer, can you please just cooperate?" Donnie spat. Spencer wanted to bite back. More so than ever, in fact. But some insane part of him told his fun side to take a breather. He was in too deep to really have lasted this long, and he figured it was only a matter of time before he was voted out. Or maybe they thought they'd win if pitted against him in a Final 2 situation. The thought of that happy tidbit made his blood boil, but there was nothing he could do. Unless, of course, he started acting civil...

Spencer closed his mouth with a snap, swallowed, and nodded. Donnie found himself in Spencer's previous position: with a snappy retort all thought out that had to be bitten back, allowing his jaw to hand freely in the wind. How had that happened?

"Spence, can you please fetch the water? We've all done it once and your phobia is now moot," Donnie struggled to keep his voice emotionless. If this was a trick, Spencer was dead. The alien exhaled noisily before gathering the jugs and retrieving fresh water to be boiled.

Donnie shared a confused glance with Axel and Ichabod. Nobody was quite sure this meekness was a good thing, especially now with no one officially advocating Spencer's odd behavior. What Tobey had seen in Spencer was beyond them, but for now, it was in the past. Spencer was cooperating, and they'd take advantage of it.

Inaga- Night

---"We need to reestablish a watch. Raphael was right on that count. Last time we were lucky it was only DB. Next time? Who knows," Donnie muttered darkly.

Spencer was about to reply with something along the lines of, "Oh, stop being such a cryptic dip," but decided wisely to hold off. He'd forego wise-cracks for good standing this week. Maybe. This wannabe dictator was making it awful hard.

"So... anyone want to volunteer?" Donnie asked hopefully.

"I'll do it," Axel nodded. No one could rightly pin an ulterior motive to Axel's willingness, but no one could discredit it either. Donnie, however, smiled and clapped Axel on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Axel. I'll take second watch if you'd like, I'm just dead tired. Rest up, folks, there's another challenge tomorrow. We'll need to be in peak condition. I want to have every advantage when it comes to the next immunity challenge, and this reward one may help. We're going to beat cruddy, old Hahaga, whadduya say?"

"I'd say you needed to take a nap, General Brasco or Pistone or whatever your name is. All that pep's gone to your head," Spencer rolled his eyes and promptly curled up in a ball, back to the fire and consequentially, Donnie. "Egomaniac."

"What'd you just say?"

"Oh, nothing... General Brasco..." Spencer called cheerfully between yawns. He closed his eyes to prevent any further questions, but it didn't stop him from hearing Donnie's less than happy comment.

"Being good? What a fricken laugh!"

Inaga- Morning

--- Sam was woken up by the sounds of a quiet, but heated argument. The combatants were by now so familiar, that Sam didn't immediately leap up to prevent bodily harm. If they didn't kill each other, someone else would. Whether of not it was for the best was up for debate. Finally, sweet-natured Sam could no longer take the incessant hissing. He struggled upright from his prostrate position and hobbled over to Spencer and Donnie.

"Look... I know you two hate each other, but can't you go take care of this somewhere else? Some of us were finally sleeping on the ground without pain and I'd just appreciate it if the others didn't have to suffer the same fat I did. Now can you please resolve this or go somewhere else?"

Spencer cut short his probably insult to gape, slack-jawed at the normally mild Survivor. Donnie was equally shocked. Silence reigned for a grand total of 2 minutes before Sam reacted.

"Thank you. I'm going fishing if you need me," he allowed for a fleeting smile before grabbing the fishing gear and wandering down the trail.

Spencer quirked an eyebrow in question at Donnie who simply shrugged in reply. Their tribe was just too dysfunctional to be out of the ordinary.

Donnie

--- "That's something I'd never thought I'd see. I think it's ever worse being told off by the nicest guy in the group. It's like you've let them down, y'know? Now a good feeling.

Spencer

--- "What bug's up his chimney?"

Hahaga- Midmorning

--- Fred glanced at Raoul.

"Go check the mail."

"I'm a respectable citizen. Some other swine can do it."

"Mort, go get the mail."

"Ah ain't, Mort."

"Good Lord, Bon-bon?"

"Only truly cruel person would make a lady work when she's clearly pining for her love."

"Jack..."

"0..." he sniffed, "0 bottles of rum on the wall... 0 bottles of rum...! Ain't no more... bottles for Jack... Must get out to plunder... some more..." Jack's song dissolved into a fit of shivers and moaning. Fred simply didn't have the heart to ask the rum-deprived man to do much more than get himself under control.

"I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this," Fred muttered under his breath.

"I'll get it," Cesar placed a reassuring hand on Fred's shoulder, but looked up as Sands got to his feet and stretched.

"No, Cesar. I can see all the rest of you are all MexiCAN'T's. I'll walk that whole long way over to that freaky ancient head and get our mail. Because I'm so self-sacrificing and all," Sands smirked. "And I won't even make Fred ask me."

Fred's obvious look of displeasure looked as though he would have preferred to ask if Sands' smug grin was his other option. Before Fred could think of a suitable retort, Sands was gone, humming some mariachi tune.

"I wish I could like him, I really do," the Inspector shook his head and returned to his previous lounging in the sun. Sands didn't prolong his absence. He'd filled his daily contrariness quota already, no need to go overboard.

"You'd think they'd let well enough alone, huh? It another poem, guys, and a cryptic one at that."

Teamwork is the key

To winning a jubilee

You must think as one

Or you can think yourself done.

"Where did these people learn to write?" Duke scoffed.

"I don't know, but I don't think this is going to be an easy challenge. We don't seem to like to cooperate well," Sands remarked.

"You just can't be an optimist can you?" Fred replied sourly.

"I'm neither an optimist nor a pessimist. I'm a realist, thanks very much."

Had anyone been paying attention to Edward, they would have noticed his disappointed stare being directed at the foul-mouthed agent.

Inaga- Afternoon

--- "I still think it's a mental challenge," Spencer grumbled.

"Listen, I've told you before, I don't care. I can't be bothered. I'm not arguing with you anymore. If you're not going to let this go, you can kiss this reward goodbye," Donnie hissed as he prodded Spencer forward. He'd been hoping for a relaxed trip to the challenge site, but it didn't look as though it would really be feasible.

"Are you implying that I'm obsessed? Because that's something we call our angels, not ourselves. I'm not obsessed, I'm single-mindedly focused."

"I'm sorry, I forgot."

"You know, you're just as much to blame as I am. If you weren't such a crank, I'd be tempted to at least be civil."

"You're just saying that."

"Because you like to think of me as a seditious person. I won't stop you, but I'll just have to say, 'For shame.' "

Spencer broke away from Donnie and entered the clearing first. On either side was a giant box, one orange, the other green. It didn't look familiar, and Spencer had no idea what it could possibly be used for. He had a feeling it wouldn't be good. A curious head poked out of the trees from across the way, spotted Spencer, and drew back. Some rustling later revealed the Hahaga team (fully dressed this time) and looking carefully determined. The rest of Inaga soon followed Spencer's lead until both teams were in their respective positions.

"I see you both got your letters. Any luck trying to figure out what this clue means?" there was a twisted smile on the host's face.

"A mental challenge, of course," Spencer replied, uncaringly. Him? Obsessed? Nah.

"Something with cooperation. But we'll face it like we always have," Cesar nodded solemnly.

"That's very noble of you, Hahaga. Now, I guess I won't keep you in suspense. You challenge is indeed a mental one, and cooperative. Here's what you have to do:

"5 of you will take a place around the box and complete the maze. Only catch is, you won't be able to see what you're doing. The top of the box is completely opaque, as you can see. However, the bottom is done in plastic so your 6th member can help guide your movements. If done well, you can get your ball through the maze and out through the hole. Do that, your team wins the reward. I'd bet you'd like to know what that is, right?

"A picnic basket, full of every comestible you could ever want on a not quite deserted island. Sandwiches, chips, cookies, soda, you name it; it's probably in this basket. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I hope so," Sam whispered.

"Hahaga, 2 of you have to sit out. Who's it going to be?"

"For Fred's sake, I think I'd better," Sands spoke up. There was to evil grin or pained expression to accompany the simple statement. He shrugged and moved to lean against a tree to watch the carnage.

"I'll uh... be sitting this one too. I don't take direction well. Goes against my... body chemistry. Terrible for my heart. Need medicine," Duke tried to elaborate and failed miserably. So he too took a spot against a tree before anybody could question him otherwise.

"All right, Survivors, take your spots."

"Gilbert, you're an impartial party. Do you mind taking the bottom?" Donnie asked.

"Excuse me, but don't I get a say in this?" Spencer spoke up.

"Who were you going to suggest?" Donnie kept his voice in check.

"Well, General Brasco, I was going to say Sam as he's the only one that seems to care about us collaborating. He also seems to be able to keep us in line and... we can both trust him."

"But what if we can't hear him or-..."

"Donnie. Think about it."

"What if he doesn't want to?"

"Sam?"

Sam's head darted up in surprise. What'd the alien want now?

"Would you do us the honor of guiding our ball?"

Well... if it would prevent the two of them from biting each other's head off... Sam couldn't say no, but he would have much preferred someone like Gilbert to do it.

"Okay."

Fred was underneath for Hahaga, and Shooter beside Bon-bon who didn't seem to appreciate it. The rest were arranged symmetrically around the rest of the box.

"Good luck guys. Remember, keep a cool head and trust me, alright? I'll yell out who's side should go down. Work slow and we'll do okay," Fred's voice was muffled from under the box.

"Survivors, are you ready?"

Nobody said anything.

"Go!"

"Edward, your corner, ease it slowly!"

Edward, one scissor on top of the box, the other below, pressed down. There was a satisfying roll and thump as whatever was inside moved.

"Mort!"

"The name is Shooter."

"Whoever you are, your side!"

"You heard the man, Bon-bon. Help me push."

"Ugh, do it yourself!"

Inaga, no matter how annoyed they were with each other, were doing remarkably well. Sam was like the duct tape that kept a cranky machine working.

"Down, down, down... good, stop! Leeeeeeeeft... too far, too far, back..."

Spencer and Donnie, on opposite sides, couldn't snap at each other, and had no choice but to follow Sam's instructions.

A minute passed, where Duke and Sands both lit up. Team spirit was one thing, but a lack of anything interesting to watch was taking its toll. Besides, FF hadn't said not to smoke, had she? It was something Duke had chosen to gloss over for the time being.

"Think we're uh... going to win?"

"We've got as good a chance as the other guys. That guy... Spencer. He's a bit of a livewire that one... Did you see that look Donnie gave him?" Sands smirked at the memory.

"How's that make us even?"

"Unless you've been spacing these past few days, I'd say we're just as bad. We just hide it better."

"Pessimist."

"Realist."

"Inaga wins the reward!"

There were cheers from the orange box as several men slumped in relief. Sam crawled out from under the box, a happy smile crossing his face. Spencer and Donnie even had the grace to shake hands and clap each other on the back. Hahaga's collective features drooped. To their credit, there was no display of bad sportsmanship, just disappointment.

"Congratulations, Inaga, go enjoy your food. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Donnie

--- "It was magic. It just clicked! That was a good challenge; Sam's just awesome. What's more, Spencer agrees. I hope this is a turn for the best."

Sam

--- "I'm surprised we won. I'm not complaining but I really wonder if we can pull off something like this again."

Fred

--- "I think... maybe I stressed slow a bit too much. We'll have to try and come back and win immunity. It's true, rewards are nice, but it's the immunity that matters."

Inaga- Night

--- "Yeah, Inaga! We did well!" Axel announced happily. The whole team was in good spirits, perhaps more so than when they won the fishing gear. Perhaps it was because a picnic wasn't ominous. The general consensus was that it was the first challenge Inaga had worked like a true team.

"I missed this something fierce," Spencer nodded around a mouthful of roast beef. Donnie didn't even reprimand his atrocious manners. This was too good a feeling to lose. And Donnie felt a small twinge of guilt for being overbearing on Spencer. The alien's parting line before the challenge had stung quite a bit.

The team didn't even bother with the fish or rice that night. It was a regular pow-wow of epic proportions. The bonfire burned higher than ever and the sugar ran rampant through Inaga bloodstreams. The tribe didn't get to sleep until well after midnight.

Hahaga- Morning

--- Mort awoke with a peaceful yawn. He'd slept like the dead and couldn't remember feeling better refreshed. Until he realized he was no longer in the sand under the sun in his swimsuit.

"Oh no... you didn't..." he moaned and clutched at his hair. "Shooter!"

"I told you, you foul man, I don't like you! I want my Morty-bear back!" an indignant voice snorted from the back of the shelter.

"Bon-bon...?"

"I will not kiss you!"

"Bon-bon, wake up, you're having a bad dream," Mort nudged the bare leg of the transvestite. Bon-bon kicked out, catching Mort in the stomach.

"Ow! Okay, okay, sleep!" Mort wheezed and crawled outside. Mort vowed that that was the last time he would try to be nice to the creepy she-male.

The Hahaga fire was burnt low, not much more than live coals. However, it didn't take much to bring the fire back to a respectable size as Mort got the water ready for the rice. He wasn't a great cook, but even he couldn't really make the rice any worse than it already was.

"Morning, sleepy head. Care to explain what happened to your mental stability?" Sands sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire. His dark hair was mussed up about as bad as Mort's, but his dark gaze more than made up for the silly look his hair gave him.

"Whadduya mean?" Mort wasn't quite awake enough to bother with good enunciation.

"Well... Shooter. Mr. Southern Hick. I have no doubt that you know what I'm talking about as you're the one that woke me up with your 'Not Shooter!' carp. Spill it."

"I'm not sure how much you'd like to know," Mort was careful to be guarded. A federal agent knowing his alter ego murdered his ex-wife and her boyfriend? Not to mention several other people who would 'get in the way of business.' No, that didn't bode well at all.

"More or less how Shooter can just take over your head like that. I mean really... don't you have some control over your head?"

"You sound so casual about this. Like you're really one to talk."

"Now what's that supposed to mean? I know you people are alluding to something, but I can't for the life of me think what you can possibly be talking about. Why do you all take me for some schizophrenic, psychotic jerk?"

Mort couldn't hold back a slight laugh, "I'm... I'm sorry. I think I've been editing too much of the dynamic duo's fanfiction. It's a little too easy to lose track of reality for me."

"Somebody's going to have to point me in the direction of this fiction. Now, I trust you've got your murdering half under control for the time being?"

"You know about that?"

"Of course. We're all pretty close-knit, you know. Don't worry, I don't think any less of you. Perhaps it even makes me appreciate you a little more. But what do I know, I'm a schizophrenic, psychotic jerk."

"You're not the only one."

"I knew I liked you. I'm gonna go see if the mail's here before those other lovely tribe mates of ours wake up. We surely don't need a repeat of yesterday. Not that you remember, but it's just as well you don't. Might want to stir that rice though," Sands observed as he got to his feet to take the short walk into the bush.

"Thanks, Jeffrey."

"What'd you call me?"

"Nothing... nothing," Mort grinned into the steaming pot of rice.

Mort

--- "I dunno, I don't think he's quite so bad. He's not average by any means and could stand to learn a little humility but... I think he's kind of fun.

Inaga-Midmorning

--- Axel was the first to wake up. Instead of being productive, he opted to just sit on the beach and enjoy the still cool light. He could hear the fish out there, but decided that he'd still be better off to leave well enough alone for the time being. Fish was still a sore subject for him.

Ichabod was next to awaken, if only to answer nature's call. It was perhaps one of life's useless functions, but there were some things even a scientist couldn't stop. So he tolerated the emptying of his bladder so he could move on to bigger and better things. Like finding and retrieving the day's mail.

"I swear, they get worse every time," Ichabod grumbled, glancing at the script circling the back of the mini tiki head.

Natives of this island

Placed these heads that surround you

You will find out how

So they were going to have to move moais. How bad could it possibly be? By the time Ichabod returned to camp, Donnie and Sam were also awake and bonding over rice. Ichy relayed the gist of the clue to the 3 awake members and gave his guess on what they were expected to do.

"Move moais?" Sam's stare took on a look of confusion.

"They have to do a cultural challenge. It's almost required," Donnie's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Should we wake Spencer and Gilbert?" Ichabod asked.

"Possibly. They wouldn't appreciate cold rice."

The 2 Johnnies still asleep were promptly prodded into wakefulness, and after a lot of grumbling, set upon their bowls with something slightly less than starvation. They were filled in on the situation and offered their two cents.

"It's not going to be that easy. The largest moai is almost 72 feet tall. 165 tons of solid rock. I don't think it's going to be that hard, but even an average moai is pretty bad. 32.5 feet tall, 82 tons. We shouldn't take this too lightly," Spencer warned.

"How do you know that?" Axel asked with quiet awe.

"Well... you know how aliens supposedly did Stonehenge?"

"Yeah?"

"We told the Easter Island folk how to do the slightly more manageable moais."

"I uh... I see."

"But that's scientifically inaccurate. Ancient peoples are supposed to have built it with logs and lots of hard strength-..."

"Ichabod, really. I know these things. Trust me."

"You know I can't without proof."

"Then that whole thing about the logs and the strength will be your little secret."

Ichabod huffed.

"Let's get moving then, shall we? We'll need lots of strength today," Donnie laughed.

"And possibly even a little luck," Spencer replied.

Hahaga- Afternoon

--- "All right, guys, we really need this one. Who's going to sit out?"

"I would like to. I don't think I will be much help," Edward turned to Fred.

"I'd break a nail, I can't!" Bon-bon shook her head forcefully, yellow hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Yes, that would be tragic," Mort smiled wryly.

"What has happened to your accent?" she turned to face the figure of her Morty-bear.

"Well... I'm... I'm not that man you thought I was?" he offered.

"Pooky?"

"What?"

"Are you my pooky? My Morty-bear?"

"I uh... wasn't aware that I was," Mort began to shy away.

"Morty-bear!" Before Mort had the chance to turn tail and run, Bon-bon got him from behind and felled him to the ground. "I can't believe you're back!"

"Yeah... me neither..." Mort whispered, trying to get some oxygen back into his lungs. Bon-bon hugged him even tighter. This was about the time Hahaga began to grow uncomfortable and started muttering, "Get a room," under their breath. After a final peck on the cheek, Bon-bon let Mort up and brushed herself off.

"We will go and beat Inaga," she announced and began to walk up the trail to the now familiar clearing. Hahaga just managed to share a confused stare before starting after her.

The half hour walk seemed shorter than it had yesterday. It could have been confidence but no one could say. They met up with the dastardly Inaga tribe, ready for another showdown.

"Is this going to be an easy challenge, you think?" the host asked.

"Doubt it," Spencer shook his head.

"Could be," Sands smirked.

"Want to hear it?"

"Do we have a choice?" Fred countered.

"That's the spirit, Abberline," the host winked. "You are going to erect your own tribal moais. Lucky for you, they're already made; you don't have to worry about doing chisel work. You do, however, have to think about how you're going to get a giant stone head up that hill and standing on those ceremonial ahus stamped with your tribe's colors. The first tribe to do it wins immunity. Hahaga-..."

"Bon-bon and Edward," they announced automatically.

"Already decided, huh? All right then, Survivors, to your marks."

The 12 separate Survivors joined their respective teams around a prostrate moai lying on several logs. Beside it was a bucket of sweet potatoes, and a thick rope.

"Think they're for when we get hungry?" Axel smiled.

"Not from what I was told of it," Spencer's mouth tightened in concentration.

"Jack, I hope you're up on your knot tying skills," Cesar whispered.

"Aye, me too, mate," Jack murmured.

"Survivors... go!"

"I need someone on potato mashing detail," Spencer announced, staring at his crew. Sam nearly looked physically sick, remembering his tennis racket back at camp, Ichabod didn't relish getting dirty this late in the day, and Gilbert wasn't sure he knew what was going on.

"We're not eating them, we're stomping them to make grease to make the logs move. All you need is a foot, come on!"

"I've got it, Spencer," Donnie grabbed up the bucket and set to work.

"Alright, the rest of you, grab up some rope and follow me!"

Hahaga didn't notice that their opponents were under new management. Only that Jack was taking excellent care of the rope.

"Tha'd be that! Mates, are we ready?"

"Yeah, Jack! Come on down and help us pull!"

"Aye!"

They were the first team to try to make the moai move, and the first to realize that stone and wood don't glide over each other as well as they should.

"Wait, wait, wait, stop! Hold up! The rope's going to snap!"

Inaga was all tied up and Donnie had finished his potato dance.

"We've got to slather it over the logs as they come out from under the head. For now we can only grease the first and last logs. It'll get easier on the hill once it's all slathered. Ready? One, two, three, pull!"

There were grunts and strains as Inaga pulled against the ropes in a sort of one-sided tug of war. Even for a little moai, it was incredibly hard to move. But the sweet potatoes came through in a pinch. The head rolled forward slightly, exposing the last, already partially greased log. Donnie finished it up, and with the help of Gilbert, managed to carry it to the front of the head and place it in front of the others.

"One, two, three, pull!"

They repeated the process in a slow, arduous, but successful system. Every yell of three, the 6 members would strain at the ropes and pull the head a little farther forward. Then 4 would hold it in place as 2 ran back to grease up the last log and carried it in front of the procession. It was enough for Hahaga to stare disparagingly at their retreating forms.

"To think the key was sweet potatoes. Guys, new plan, we've gotta grease the logs up!" Fred called.

"I'd think we've already lost," Mort grumbled.

"Pessimist?" Sands asked.

"Realist."

Sands grinned.

"Duke, do you want to start mashing those potatoes?"

"You swine, why don't you?"

"Fine, but someone else had better start getting the logs ready to be greased."

There was a collective glance at the logs stuck under the moai and shrugged.

Inaga was very, very close. They were at the top of the hill (it wasn't a big one) and were contemplating how to stand the moai up. Spencer didn't have an easy answer for this, so they were reduced to 3 pulling on the ropes and 3 trying to lift from behind.

"Easy, easy... all right, lift!"

The 3 in back, Gilbert, Axel and Donnie began to try to get some leverage on the statue. Spencer, Sam and Ichabod, when the head was a couple of inches above the farthest logs, began to tug on the ropes, hoping to ease the strain on the ropes and prevent having to pull it completely up.

"Okay, stop! We've gotta' wiggle it towards the base! When I say left, the people on my left push and or pull to swing it that way. Likewise on the right! Left!" The big, stone head began to creak to the left.

"Right!"

It stopped mid-swing and went right. They repeated the process. Not too much longer, (all though long enough for Hahaga to establish Inaga's previous pulling rhythm) the head was flush against the base. Ahu. Whatever.

"One, two, three, GO!!!"

5 seconds passed, then 10, then a loud crash. Inaga's moai was on the pedestal, if a bit crookedly.

"Inaga wins immunity!"

Donnie fell to his knees, half from the strain and half from extreme happiness. They're actually won an immunity challenge. Because of Spencer!

Donnie

--- "I take it all back. You're not a bad guy. Aw, Spence, we did it!"