(Shake's Steakhouse; Toronto, Ontario, Canada; June 2nd, 2016).
Shake's Steakhouse is a famous restaurant in Toronto, Ontario, Canada that brings people from different walks of life together. From the rich to middle class, citizens to tourists, and everymen to celebrities, the place is more than happy to serve high quality food. On top of the top notch service, the aesthetic is pleasing for the eyes.
Sitting outside, where the atmosphere is as appealing, are Chris McLean and Chef Hatchet. Handsome for the former and rugged for the latter, to best describe them. Seated across from each other, the beauty is in the midst of telling the muscle a tale.
"…So that's why I had to dump her." Chris narrates. It seems like he's almost done with his story. Both men's plates sit there, waiting to be finished. His is a quarter way finished while Chef's is almost done. "You know the old saying: it's not me, it's you." He sighs, shaking his head. "Such a shame, man. She could've been perfect for me."
Chef has an unamused expression the entire time. The more he listens, the angrier he gets. Once Chris finishes speaking, he takes his chance to respond before he can drag out the story or go on a nonsensical rant. "Boy, you must be next level stupid!" He berates him, crossing his arms. "How could you dump her over that?"
Chris takes a fry and bites it in half. "Imagine this, Chef. You wake up in bed with this woman. Life's great up to that point; you have someone by your side, you've slept well, and you're ready for the day." His smile turns into a frown. "Then you see a teeth gap right in the center of her smile." He points at his mouth before eating the half-fry. "Morning ruined."
Chef blinks, trying to comprehend the logic. "…So what's the problem?"
"It's a teeth gap." Chris almost rolls his eyes. "C'mon Chef, I know you haven't dated since high school, but even you understand it looks horrifying, right?"
"What does that have to do with anything-" Chef pauses. He knows asking about the high school dating part will lead him down an unnecessary rabbit hole. The muscle shakes his head and sighs. "Dammit, you've lost it, man."
"Lost it?" Chris raises a brow in amusement. "Dude, I'm as fine as I was and will be." He pauses to drink his soda. "If anything, between me and you, you're the one who needs a therapist." A teasing grin forms. "You're always so angry."
Chef's eye twitches. A vein of his is about to pop. "Because… you always drag me into your shit." He's gritting his teeth the whole time. "And every single damn time, I have to pull your ass out of it!" His voice grows louder, and by the end, it becomes a shout, catching the attention of nearby diners. But he doesn't care. "You're a goddamn 38 year old man who keeps acting like a brat!" Chris, as expected, now looks terrified.
"D-Dude, dude, keep your voice down!" Chris tells him in a hushed voice, looking around to see some watching with concern, some with amusement, and the rest with indifferent curiosity. "People are watching us!" When he notices Chef's expression not changing, he becomes more nervous. "I'm kidding! You should know me by now! It's all banter!" He tries to calm him down, forcing a chuckle out.
Chef leans forward. "Do I look like I care?" He can hear Chris gulping. "It's always the same crappy excuse from you! Every time you piss somebody off, you're 'joking' or tell them 'it's not that serious'!" Some of the spectators pull out their phones to record them.
"B-But I am!" Chris counters. He takes a quiet deep breath. No. He's not going to keep staying on the defensive. His terrified expression changes to a glare, albeit not as menacing as Chef's. "Maybe if you lightened up once in a while, then we'd have less arguments! Instead, you choose to walk around 24-7, looking like you want to kill someone!"
"Well maybe if you took life more seriously, I would smile more!" Chef leans closer to his face. "We're supposed to be friends, but ever since you and Mildred broke up, I became more of a babysitter!" By this point, he's risen from his chair.
"Oh great, you're bringing this back up!" Chris rolls his eyes, having risen from his chair as well. "It's always Mildred this, or Mildred that, or Mildred that turned me into a 'manchild'!" He also leans closer, and the two are inches away from touching faces. "It happened years ago! I've moved on, dude!" There is emphasis on the last sentence.
Chef narrows his eyes. "I don't think you've moved on." His voice softens a bit, but still has the menacing tone. Almost like a threatening whisper. "It's nothing but one big fat lie-"
All of a sudden, Chris slams his hands on the table. "I am not in love with that woman anymore!" Some of the spectators are startled and even Chef is caught off-guard a bit. Now it's the beauty who's on the verge of snapping. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Raging will ruin his reputation since he's aware of the people recording. "Whatever, dude." Just like that, he's almost as calm as before.
But instead of sitting back down, he reaches inside the left pocket of his pants to pull out his wallet. Two 20 dollar bills are extracted from it. "If you think I'm 'childish' because of her, then keep thinking that. I'm done trying to change your mind." He places them on the table, near his plate. "Here. For my part of the order." Then he starts walking away, but not before saying something to the big man. "I'll be waiting in the car."
Silence follows as Chef watches him enter the building. He watches on, not with an expression of guilt, but rather sympathy. The muscle sighs and shakes his head before turning to see the audience looking at him. At least some of them put their phones away. Nonetheless, he gives them his signature glare. "The show's over!" Only a couple of them don't comply, causing him to say more. "Don't make me repeat myself!"
Just like that, everyone has gone back to their business. Chef mumbles to himself, including some obscenities. "…Damn punks sticking their noses in everything." He eyes Chris's plate and the 40 dollars. Another sigh and head shake. "Goddammit, pretty boy…"
Several seconds later, a waitress comes out to his table. "Everything okay here, sir?" She asks. Chef isn't sure if she witnessed the argument or not, but he forces a small smile, regardless. Maybe she's simply doing her job by checking up on her customers.
"Uh, yeah." Chef nods. He tries not to think about the argument. "Everything's all good. Let me get two takeout boxes." The waitress nods in compliance before heading back into the restaurant to fetch the to-go boxes, leaving him alone once more to think…
To think about the argument and their deteriorating relationship.
(Camp Wawanakwa; Muskoka, Ontario, Canada; June 9th, 2016).
Camp Wawanakwa. A summer camp on an island in the middle of nowhere. Away from the Canadian mainland. It's the 9th of June, 2016. The hour is approaching noon yet the sun is out as if it's the afternoon. An aura of peace surrounds the environment; the waves splash against the shore, the seagulls chirp as they fight over crumbs inside a littered chip bag, and a light breeze continuously blows against nature, to compensate for the eventual heat.
Chris is near a dock, making final adjustments to his hair and clothes. He has to look good for the cameras. Look good for the audience. Especially as a first impression. The dock itself seems to be worn and unstable. Once the main cameraman gives him the green light, he flashes the camera in front of him his signature grin.
"Sup! We're coming at you live from Camp Wawanakwa, somewhere on a remote island in Muskoka, Ontario!" Chris speaks with great enthusiasm and an appropriate level of gesticulation. "Once a popular summer camp in the 80s and early 90s, this abandoned place will be the designated location of season one of the hottest new reality show on television! Hosted by yours truly, Chris McLean!" He points at himself before giving the camera a wink.
"Here's the deal: 18 campers have signed up to spend the summer right here at this crummy old camp." Chris walks down the dock to the right, stopping next to a worn sign with the camp's name on it. "They'll compete in challenges against each other while adapting to a new environment. Easy for some, a nightmare for the others."
"After each challenge, one team or individual will win a reward and immunity from being voted out. The others will be at risk of walking down the Dock of Shame, taking a ride on the Boat of Losers, and leaving the competition for good." As if on cue, a worn red boat passes by and docks near him. It emits a horn blast that sounds as old as the watercraft.
"Their fate will be decided here, at the dramatic campfire ceremony." Chris narrates from off-screen. The new location seems to be a clearing, surrounded by large rocks. In the center is a fire pit, nine wooden stumps located near it for the purpose of seating; four are in the front and five are in the back. To the right of the bonfire ring is an upright metal oil drum. He approaches it, dropping a stack of cash and magazine on the top. "Where each time, all but one camper will receive… a marshmallow."
After pulling one out of his pocket and eating it, he continues. "In the end, only one will remain. That camper will be rewarded with fame and a small fortune of one million dollars!" Chris shows off the magazine, which has him on the front cover, then the stack of cash, each bill being 20 dollars. He proceeds to discard them. "To survive, they'll have to battle the infestation." A large amount of bugs can be seen in a dark boathouse, comprised of fishing rods, hooks, bait, canoes, paddles, and equipment related to the aforementioned.
"The wildlife." Next seen is a grizzly bear, somewhere in a forest. It seems to be swiping at a swarm of black flies. Once it notices the camera in front of it, the creature roars menacingly at it. Needless to say, over a hundred dollars has been wasted.
"And the camp food, among other things." Last but not least, a bowl of white slop, placed on a wooden picnic table in a cafeteria. The food doesn't look appetizing at all.
On a tree branch, a nest containing two birds and a camera can be seen. It's pointing at the parent bird, as it feeds its hatchling some worms. "As reality TV goes, every moment will be caught on one of the hundreds of cameras, situated all over the camp."
Back to Chris, once again at the edge of the dock. "Who will crumble under the pressure? Who will come out on top? Who will you be rooting for?" Emphasis on the "you" as he points at the camera upon asking the last question. "Find out here, right now on… Total!" The camera zooms out. "Drama!" Again. "Island!" By the end, the island, from a frontal perspective, can be seen in all of its glory. As for the host, he's now a small figure.
Dear Mom and Dad, I'm doing fine!
You guys are on my mind!
You asked me what I wanted to be, and now I think the answer is plain to see!
I wanna be… famous!
I wanna live close to the sun!
Well pack your bags, cos I've already won!
Everything to prove, nothing in my way, I'll get there one day!
Cos I wanna be… famous!
Na-na nananana, nanana-nana, na-nanananana!
I wanna be! I wanna be! I wanna be famous!
I wanna be! I wanna be! I wanna be famous!
(Camp Wawanakwa).
"Welcome back to Total Drama Island!" Chris exclaims as the camera returns to him standing at the dock. "Alright! It's time to meet our campers. At the moment, they're on a boat ride to this island. We've divided the cast into nine groups of two! Just so you can get a distinctive first impression of each contestant."
"So, let's see what they're up to, shall we?" He winks at the camera.
(Boat #01).
Somewhere out at sea, a speedboat can be seen drifting across the water. Aside from the custom designed Total Drama logo on both sides, it seems to be a standard white watercraft. About moderate size, more than enough to carry three people. Said three people are the boat driver and two contestants.
Beth seems to be working on putting together a bracelet using green beads. A colorful collection of them lay on her lap, from the bright aqua and yellow, to the dark purple, to even a rainbow variation. She has the appearance of a dork, given her short frame, glasses, and a rather strange fashion sense.
"Oh my gosh! I'm finally done!" She holds up her creation, admiring the final result. Beth squeals, revealing her braces. "I hope everyone will love these friendship bracelets!"
"I'd love to be the first one in line." Another voice catches her off-guard, making her almost drop the green bracelet. She looks up to see a man with a near-similar frame like her. Cody is giving her what he believes is a charming smile. He's built like a geek and most likely behaves like one. "Oh, um, sorry-" He goes from sheepish to his "charming" self again. "I mean, my bad. I wanted to see what a hot chick like you was doing." Even his attempt at making his voice deeper doesn't work. It comes off as cringe.
"Oh!" Beth doesn't cringe at his failed attempt, but she doesn't look too comfortable either. A small tint of red can be seen on her cheeks. "I, um, I'm making friendship bracelets!" She gestures to the ones on her lap. "I'm planning on giving everyone one, so… yeah! You can have one!" The first of seventeen given away is the brown one.
"Cool." Cody admires the brown bracelet before putting it on. He maintains that "charming" smile. "Maybe once we get to know each other better, we can make ourselves a relationship bracelet. Matching colors with our initials on it and an 'x' in the middle." The geek gives her a simultaneous wink, tongue click, and finger gun.
"Um…" Beth isn't sure what to respond with or even how to react. It's as if this is all new and foreign to her. "I wouldn't-" She shakes her head. "I-I mean, no. No no no no." The dork waves her hands in front of her while continuing to shake her head. "Play hard to get, play hard to get…" She's muttering to herself now.
Cody takes a step back, not sure how to go about this either. "Uh, you okay-" He clears his throat. "I mean, you good?" A beat and no response. The geek scratches the back of his head, offering an assuring smile. "If you're not interested, then that's fine."
Beth shakes her head again. "No no no! I'm interested- no wait, I'm not- I-I don't know!" She clutches her hair in distress, as if her brain malfunctioned. The dork takes a moment to calm down, taking deep breaths. After a moment of silence, she looks at him. "Um, have you ever seen something that looked cool, wanted to try it in real life, and then failed at it because it was more difficult than you thought?" Her fingers twirl as she struggles to maintain eye contact with the geek.
"I…" Cody has a tense expression. He's struggling to formulate an answer. "I can't say I've failed before. But I know what you're talking about. A homie-" Even he has to cringe at that. He clears his throat. "A friend of mine wanted to be cool. He tried anything and everything to achieve that…" A saddened look takes over him. "To this day, he's still trying, hoping to finally be part of the cool, popular kids."
"Wow…" Is all Beth could say. She gives him a comforting smile. "I hope he achieves that goal! I've always wanted to fit in with the popular kids… all of the girls in that group look pretty and all of the boys look handsome…" The dork sighs dreamily. "Wouldn't it be amazing if we were part of that clique?"
"Yeah, it would be nice." Cody nods, also having content thoughts. But then he realizes what she said and widens his eyes. The gasp from her confirms his suspicions. "Wait-" His cheeks turn red a little. "I meant it would be nice if you were part of the popular crowd!" He puts emphasis on the "you". Seeing her grin makes him more embarrassed. "I'm already part of the cool kids club!" No point in trying to defend himself anymore.
"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" Beth squeals. "You aren't cool after all!" The remark stings him, but she does notice his pained look, assuming it's because she caught him. "It's okay, I'm in the same boat as you. We both wanna be popular." She gasps in excitement. "I have an idea! Let's do a pinky promise to help each other become famous! Even if we've only met, having someone on your side is better than doing something alone, right?"
Cody stares at her held-out pinky, contemplating it for a brief moment. He nods. "True. Two heads are better than one." Fuck it. She seems trustworthy enough. The geek smiles and accepts the pinky promise. "Alright, it's a promise then!" Then the two chat more as the boat continues cruising along the ocean, closer and closer to the island…
Closer to becoming famous and changing their social lives for the better.
(Boat #02).
Not too far from them is another speedboat. Same appearance, same cruising speed, the only difference between the two are the people onboard.
Just like Beth, this contestant - Duncan, seems to be in the middle of something. He's a carving a wooden skull using a pocket knife. A simple glance at him and an easy assumption can be made: he's a punk. The green fauxhawk, large skull design on his shirt, spiked choke collar, and multiple face piercings are some examples of evidence. He takes his time cutting, the wooden scraps falling onto the ground, which are then blown into the water.
Then, he hears heavy breathing. He doesn't need to look up to sense that someone is near, staring at him. His suspicions are confirmed. Looking at him from across is Harold. The two couldn't be any more different in appearance. The beanpole is built like, and dresses like a nerd. Unlike Cody, he gives the vibe of someone embracing the geek lifestyle.
As expected, Duncan doesn't look pleased. "What're you looking at, dork?" His tone is threatening, causing Harold to back up a bit in fear. "You better not be one of those uptight snitches who's scared of a pocket knife." It doesn't help that he's holding a pocket knife. At least he's not pointing it at him.
Harold holds up his hands in defense, as if to indicate that he comes in peace. "I'm not, I'm not. I'm only wondering what you're carving." He gestures to the wooden skull, eyeing the knife all the while. Then he crosses his arms, keeping a finger raised. "Also, a better word to use for snitch is tattletale. They both mean the same thing-"
"Yeah yeah, shut up." Duncan waves his hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes. "We're not in school, so keep that smartass talk out of my face." Needless to say, Harold refrains from annoying him any further. Then he shows him the wooden skull. "Anyway, it's just a skull. Found some wood at the dock and held on to it, in case I wanted to kill some time." He smiles a bit, twirling it on his index finger. "Boring boat rides, am I right?"
Harold takes the skull and inspects it closely. His head moves and twists in all directions, even in directions that should've broke his neck. "Wicked…" He murmurs with interest. "The hollow eye sockets have that intense, judgmental stare. The crown of the skull appears to be smooth, not a single crack spotted. The mouth seems to be in the shape of a grin, perhaps a mocking smirk." Once he finishes looking at it from all angles, he nods. "I'd recommend adding cheekbones to give the aesthetic more realism. Other than that, it's an A minus skull to me." The nerd smiles a bit, albeit sincerely.
Duncan blinks. He has to take a moment to process everything Harold said. "Dude…" Is the only thing he can say. One can't tell if he's smiling because he's genuinely impressed or because he's forcing it so he doesn't throttle him. "Are you an artist or something?"
Harold shakes his head, yet gives him a proud smile. "Nope. I learned this from Steve's Skull 'Splaining camp!" Just like that, Duncan's smile falters and is replaced with a deadpan look. A bruh moment. "They taught me how to describe every type of skull in intricate detail!" He elaborates, leaving the delinquent with more questions than answers.
"…I shouldn't have asked." Duncan simply replies.
Then, a moment of silence. Harold is able to pick up on the fact that the conversation is over and turns his body. His back now facing Duncan, he stares at the ocean from afar. He admires the environment and how beautiful summer's nature can be. At the same time, the punk grins to himself. A moment of opportunity. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a black tarantula and carefully drops it into the nerd's pants.
Harold wiggles a bit. He's able to sense something in his ass. "My gluteus maximus is tingling…" He reaches in and pulls out the tarantula. "Huh? What the-" It only takes about a second for him to note the creature he's holding before screaming like a girl. "Get it off! Get it off!" In the midst of his panic, he chucks the spider into the water. Rest in pieces.
Duncan cackles at all of this. He's laughing his ass off. "Holy shit, dude, I knew I'd get a good reaction, but the chick screaming made it better!" He sees Harold's glare and calms down a bit while maintaining an amused grin. "Relax, it's not real. Lighten up a bit and get rid of the long face." His advice doesn't help in the slightest.
"Don't tell me you wouldn't act the same." Harold retorts, crossing his arms. Despite his serious attempt to fight back, Duncan couldn't take him seriously.
He shrugs, unfazed. "Depends on the prank and my mood." Duncan twirls the handle of his pocket knife on his index finger before gripping it. "Something as weak as a fake spider prank wouldn't faze me, even if I was pissed." His expression becomes serious. "Life's too short to be soft and cry over some harmless fun. I'd take that advice if I were you." After patting him on the shoulder in a condescending manner, he walks away.
This leaves Harold by himself. He doesn't have to deal with him anymore for the time being, but holy shit did the interaction leave him sour. The nerd sits back down and stares up at the clear bright sky. Staring at the ocean would put him at risk of being a victim of a spider prank again, even if the tarantula was fake.
"Gosh…" He sighs, looking sad and disappointed. "I thought it would be different here…" The nerd hopes that the rest aren't as bad as Duncan…
After all, one bad apple means sixteen good apples.
(Boat #03).
Same deal as the previous speedboat. White colored, custom Total Drama logo on the side, carrying a boat driver and two passengers, cruising at moderate speed to the island, one should know the drill by now. Said two passengers are both male.
On the left is a tall muscleman, about the same height as Chef Hatchet, if not a bit shorter. He has the appearance and vibe of a gentle giant, indicated by him caressing a bunny's head. It seems to be attempting to rest, unable to do so because of the boat's speed, most likely. Yet it's DJ's goal to make sure it goes to sleep comfortably on his lap.
"It's alright, Bunny." He tells his pet soothingly. His hand slowly and gently runs down its fur in a looping manner. Bunny squeaks worryingly. DJ gives it a gentle kiss. "Daddy's gonna make sure you're safe." Unlike the previously shown contestants, his getup doesn't cater to a specific genre or gimmick. It's the standard green t-shirt - with a large "D" insignia in the center - and shorts. Also notable is his white skullcap.
"Naming an animal after themselves?" A light chuckle comes out of another man's mouth. In particular, the man sitting on the right. Exceptionally handsome is the best way to describe him. From his skin, to his clothes, to his hair, to his grin that shows off his dazzling pearly white teeth. Justin is the name. "Not the first time I've seen it happen." Clutched in his right hand is a golden handheld mirror.
DJ shakes his head in disagreement. "I don't think there's anything wrong with naming a bunny, Bunny." He smiles a bit, intent on not starting an argument. "I have homies who named their fish, Fish, and their dog, Dog." Another squeak from Bunny and he chuckles down. The gentle giant lightly pats its head. "Don't worry, he's not gonna hurt you."
Justin raises a brow in slight confusion. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm only pointing something out." He gestures to DJ's pet. "Starting a conversation, if you will." Then he puts his mirror down and his arms behind his head. The model smiles. "No bad vibes. That would be bad for my skin." As if to prove a point, he gestures to his rather flawless skin.
DJ nods and widens his smile. "Fo-sho. I'm always down for a good talk. I'm guessing you're a model?" He asks, having seen the mirror and noticing how much his crewmate pays close attention to his own appearance. A good question to get the ball rolling too.
Justin nods in confirmation. "Yup. Been one since I was a kid. I've done well so far, and I plan on keeping it that way." He holds up the mirror again and gives it a confident grin. DJ can't help but raise a brow at this. But then he shakes his head; no need to overthink and make assumptions. The model puts his mirror down and stares at him, observing him for a quick moment. "Now, if I had to guess, you're an athlete."
DJ shakes his head, frowning a bit. "Nah, I'm not. I know I got the body for it, but I've always thought sports were too dangerous. You've seen how nasty the injuries can be." He winces from even thinking about those gruesome bruises and wounds.
Justin can't help but do the same. "Fair point. What about modeling?" He takes a quick moment to analyze DJ's face from a few different angles. "With a few trims and touch-ups, you should be able to survive in the industry."
Another headshake from the gentle giant. "Not that either. It's too toxic for me, man." To his surprise, not that he's complaining, Justin doesn't laugh or give him an amused look. It makes him feel more at ease, even if the model never made him uncomfortable. "People get bullied over the smallest stuff. I'd rather be a veterinarian or a culinarian." A genuine grin appears on his face as he says that. "All I gotta do is conquer my fear of some animals. Sharks, snakes, eels, just to name a few."
"I can't blame you for being afraid of eels, man." Justin gives him a sympathetic look, as if he had personal experience with them. "They're slimy and disgusting." He shudders; once he even thinks about the high amount of stickiness coating his face for a second, he feels absolutely regretful for letting his mind go there.
"What about the painful electric shocks?" DJ raises a brow, asking the obvious.
"Oh." Justin blinks. "Yeah, that too."
Silence follows suit before the two ultimately decide to go back to doing their own thing. DJ goes back to tending to his pet, who has fallen asleep. Justin goes back to admiring himself in his mirror. During their chill conversation, both men can conclude one same thing…
Their personalities and lifestyles are very different from each other's.
(Boat #04).
No need to restate the obvious, so onto the contestants of the fourth boat. Here, a male and female are onboard, with the male in the middle of telling a tale. His choice of attire is unique; a cowboy hat and an unbuttoned pink shirt gives party animal vibes. As if he's set on throwing a party and having as much fun as possible at the island.
Then sitting across from him is an arguably attractive woman. A bombshell. From the hair, to the clothes, to the attentive smile on her face as she listens, everything about her looks seems to be flawless. Even the giggle that escapes her sounds like angelic bells.
"…So then my buddy Brody chugged down an entire liter of banana soda!" A lot of enthusiasm can be sensed in Geoff's voice. He laughs to himself. "It was gnarly! I saw tears in his eyes as he drank the world's worst flavored soda! He couldn't even look at soda for an entire week after that!" Then he calms down. "But I couldn't be any more proud of my bro!"
"Wow…" Is the only thing Lindsay could say, in awe of his tale. Then her face scrunches up in confusion. "Wait, isn't Bowie your friend? You called him 'bro'. I know that's short for brother. But isn't it weird to call your friend a sibling?"
Geoff shakes his head, maintaining a grin. "Of course not! You care about your friend, you care about your sibling, that means you can call your friend a bro and your bro a friend!" He tries to logically explain. Once he finishes, he realizes what he just said and does a poggers expression. "Whoa… that's deep."
"You're like, so smart!" Lindsay praises him, as if his explanation is life-changing. "Is that why you wear a cowboy hat? To hold your big brain?" Geoff now looks confused, in which she gladly elaborates. "My friend said the smarter you are, the bigger your brain is."
Geoff takes off his cowboy hat, revealing his luscious, long blond hair. He places a hand on top of his head, feeling around for his brain. "Huh. I can't feel my brain in my hair. Maybe it doesn't like hair." The party animal concludes before thinking for a bit. Then he snaps his fingers, figuring out an idea. "What if I go bald-"
"No no no, please don't go bald!" Lindsay suddenly freaks out, startling him to the point of almost dropping his hat, which most likely would've been blown away into the ocean. "No offense, but you wouldn't look good bald." She explains, shaking her head.
"I wouldn't?" Geoff asks before taking a moment to visualize himself being bald. He takes two long blinks. "Huh, guess you're right." His expression turns a bit gloom. "Bummer, brah. I was totally looking forward to being a monk." Then his expression changes to a small, hopeful smile. "Guess I gotta find another way to learn how to fly."
Lindsay frowns too, looking apologetic and sympathetic. "Aww, I'm sorry. I just don't think it's worth giving up your hair for." She smiles and observes his hair. "It's so blond and clean, it suits you." Then she holds her own hair. "Can you imagine if I lost all of my hair? I would never step out of my room again!" A shudder. "Even a wig wouldn't be enough."
Geoff nods in agreement and understanding. "Totally, dudette. You wouldn't look gorgeous anymore." He gives her a subtle wink, which is noticed by her.
Lindsay giggles. "Thank you! I have to make sure I look pretty at all times, especially on TV!" She gives him a rather flirtatious look. "And especially so that I can attract handsome boys like yourself." The bimbo returns a wink of her own, only less subtle.
Geoff chuckles. "Oh ho ho, then you're gonna love the party I throw at the island!" He's grinning from nearly ear to ear. He hops onto his feet in order to raise the hype. "Fresh food and drinks, awesome music, and plenty of hot dudes!"
"Woo!" Lindsay cheers, throwing her arms up. She also stands up, looking as hyped as Geoff. "I love parties! They're so fun and exciting!" The two share a high-five. "I am so coming!" One confirmed guest for the maybe-official party. Only sixteen more…
Because he wants to ensure that everyone comes and have a guaranteed blast.
(Boat #05).
Onto the fifth boat, there seems to be silence at the moment. A man appears to be deep in thought, giving the woman an occasional glance, who seems to be polishing her surfboard. Despite being nowhere near a beach, Bridgette has to make sure it's all clean and prepared once it's time. She's sure there'll be a beach at an island; it doesn't take a geologist to know that. As for Alejandro, he seems to be the embodiment of handsomeness, on the same level as Justin, if not a bit less. He gives his bull pendant a peck before approaching her.
"This is a very beautifully designed surfboard." He praises her surfboard. His sudden appearance startles her, indicated by her gasp and reactionary body movement. "Ah, my apologies if I interrupted your train of thought, I wanted to remark on the artwork of this." The Casanova gestures to her accessory, hoping to start off on the right foot.
"Oh, no no, you're fine!" Bridgette waves her arms in front of her, shaking her head to indicate that he didn't upset her. She takes one good look at him and can't help but blush a little. "I uh, didn't think you would talk about my surfboard's design first, of all topics you could've started with." The surfer widens her smile. "But thank you! I appreciate it."
"Of course." Alejandro nods. He shares a charming smile with her, which only manages to make her more flustered. "Did someone design it for you or did you design it yourself?"
Bridgette picks up her surfboard and lays it on her lap. "A friend of mine did. She's my area's local artist, from surfboard and skateboard designs to tattoos." By this point, she's back to normal - no longer blushing. She strokes her hand across the surface. "I wanted to go for a red and orange color scheme to represent a sunset."
"Nothing's more beautiful than watching a sunset at a beach." Alejandro adds, eyeing a spot near her. It's an implication of him asking if he can sit there, in which he receives a nod. He takes a seat next to her, adding to her nervous excitement.
"It's like you read my mind." Bridgette grins, revealing her flawless teeth. She turns her head to face the ocean, admiring the scene, the environmental aesthetic. "I've heard rumors that the cleaner a beach is, the prettier the sunset is. Nature is most beautiful when we take good care of it." The breeze blows against her hair and baby blue hoodie, giving Alejandro a nice, beautiful visual in front of him.
Another nod of agreement from him. "I agree. Look at the ocean." He gestures down at the water. The two see how clean and clear it is. In fact, it's so clear that they can see some fish swimming around. What sealife they're able to notice seems to be thriving. "It must be the result of a non-polluted environment."
"It makes me want to live in a beach house for the rest of my life." Bridgette smiles at him. It's a warm smile that can make someone's heart skip a beat and their stomach churn with butterflies. However, for Alejandro, that's not the case.
"I can't blame you, amiga. It's a life goal many would share, including myself." Alejandro stares out at the distance for a second before facing her again. "A million dollars should be able to cover the expenses." He imagines himself sitting atop of all that money, living in a beach house, and having a luxurious lifestyle for the rest of his life.
"Is that why you signed up?" Bridgette inquires, assuming he's here for the cash.
He nods. "Yes. That is why I thank whoever grants me good fortune for getting me onto this show." Alejandro holds out his pendant for a short moment. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for fame, fortune, and friendship." There's emphasis on the "friendship", as he gazes into her eyes, flashing her his signature charming smile.
It almost makes her melt.
She chuckles, her blush now obvious to him. "If that's your way of asking if we can be friends, then I would love to." Although she's fine with a friendship between them…
She hopes there'll be something more.
(Boat #06).
Boat number six carries another man and woman. The woman seems to be in the middle of rambling about something, most likely something she's passionate about. Judging by the look on the man's face - attentive yet on the verge of dozing off, it's implied that she's been at it for a while. One look at Sierra and it's not hard to assume that she's eccentric, given the obviously dyed purple hair and kid-in-a-candy-store eyes.
Then there's Tyler, who screams athlete. His getup is a simple red tracksuit.
"…That's why I'm super duper excited to be riding this exact type of boat!" Sierra gestures to the very boat she's riding on. "Fun fact: Chris rode a boat like this for his graduation party, one day after receiving his diploma from the University of Toronto!" For some reason, such fun fact makes her squeal with excitement, like any Chris McLean fan.
Tyler raises a brow, wondering where she learned this information. "…How do you know all of this?" He scratches his head in confusion, assuming she's a close associate of him. Yet at the same time, he feels a bit uncomfortable. "Some of this stuff seems… personal."
"Hours of research on the internet!" Sierra answers with no hesitation or shame in her voice. So much for that assumption. "Not to mention help from members of the Chris McLean fan club! It's amazing how much a dedicated community can accomplish!" She beams, making a mental note to praise her group, first thing when she gets home.
"Yeah…" Tyler does slow nods. He's trying to formulate the best response to this. He won't let it slide, but he doesn't want to be mean either. "Look, I get that Chris is cool-"
"Cool and hot!" Sierra interrupts, placing emphasis on "hot". "He's got the best of both worlds!" She points at him with a grin.
"I know, I know. He's wonderful, and I get that." Tyler chimes in before Sierra could go on a potential tangent. He has to stay composed and be civilized. Not let his emotions get the better of him. "But…" The athlete scratches his head again. "Don't you think this is doing too much?" Just as he feared, the girl's expression turns into a serious frown. But he won't stop now and turn back. "Like…" He's trying to find the right term. "Isn't this private evasion?"
A moment of silence. Tyler closes his eyes, expecting a physical or verbal attack. He's ready to be laughed at or punched in the face. But when he opens his eyes upon not feeling or hearing anything, he sees Sierra's angered expression. Yet she's not doing anything.
"It's not invasion of privacy!" Sierra finally gives him a response, getting into his face and yelling at him. Her eye is twitching, as if a nerve had been touched. "Unlike other fan clubs, mine's does not tolerate any illegal activity! Anything we find and learn about him is somewhere on the internet!" She states firmly.
Not wanting to suffer an early demise, Tyler holds his hands up in defense. "I believe you." He waits for Sierra to return to her seat, which she does, before continuing. "It's probably not my business, but I just like looking out for others. I've never met or even heard of Chris McLean until I signed up for the show. But I'm sure he's an awesome dude if he inspires people to do good." The athlete explains, praising the host in the process.
Upon hearing his explanation, Sierra calms down completely, even flashing a grateful smile. It's a small one, but it's sincere. "I'm so happy you're not another hater. I've been dealing with so many anti-Chris fans lately, and I am sick of it!" She becomes angry again, only this time, she's ranting. "Most of them are just hopping on the hate bandwagon!"
Tyler winces. "Harsh. Sorry you had to deal with that." He gives her a sympathetic look, maybe even a look of relatability.
Sierra sighs. "It's fine. It's not the first time I've had to deal with an angry horde." She has a serious expression again. "Even if the situation will die down in a few weeks, I hate that people took a small argument and made a big deal out of it! Blowing it out of proportion!" After taking a deep breath, she continues with a hopeful smile. "But like I said, it's fine. Chris and Chef will make up, just like they always do! Their bromance will never die!"
After raising her arm up, she continues talking about the bromance. All the while, Tyler listens, confused and focused on one thing from her rant. "…Someone's parents named their kid, Chef?" He scratches his head again. "But then again, Coach's name is Coach." As he thinks about unique names, he also thinks about Sierra…
And how she's a very intriguing person, an interesting case.
(Boat #07).
Three left, and the seventh boat doesn't have a passenger like Sierra. Nothing but silence, aside from the sounds of the engine and water splashing. Two women are on this one, with Katie, the tanned woman with twin pigtails and a crop top, plus hot pink shorts for her outfit, looking quite nervous. She's staring at Heather, also in a crop top and shorts, who seems to be filing her nails and living her best life.
"If you're going to check me out, at least don't stare like a creep." Heather remarks, not taking her eyes away from her nails. Katie gasps and lets out a pitiful yelp, having been caught red-handed. She wonders how the queen bee managed to do that without looking at her even once. It may not be magic, but it's cool.
"O-Oh! No no no, I'm not checking you out!" Katie doesn't know how to go about this. All she can do is blush and deny the accusation. "I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want to interrupt you filing your nails!" She gives the best excuse she can think of.
At last, Heather puts down her nail file to look at Katie. It's a serious, intimidating, and arguably coldhearted look. As if she's looking down on her. "…That's one of the worst excuses I've ever heard." Her voice is enough to make the emotional BFFFL's skin pale. Then she gestures for her to say what she wants to say. "But go on."
Katie tries to maintain eye contact with her. "S-Sorry!" She gulps, taking a second to compose herself. "I-I wanted to say your hair looks pretty! It looks so healthy and hydrated!" She's calm and back to normal, getting her point across. "How do you do it? Me and Sadie have been trying so hard to keep it moist!"
Heather glances at Katie's hair. She's not wrong; it seems to lack moisture, or is at least inferior to her own hair. "Simple. I take care of myself. I wash my hair thoroughly, eat a healthy diet, drink lots of water, and avoid associating with people who stress me out." She answers, giving an elaborate answer while leaving out some details.
Katie gives her a starstrucked look. What a life-changing answer. "That's so totally cool! You're like, a girlboss!" She misses the cringe reaction from Heather. Then, as if the queen bee asked, she elaborates. "You're a strong, confident, and independent woman! I know we've just met, but you totally give off that vibe!"
Heather is no stranger to praises, and she's not against them, but in this case, it seems to come off as annoying. Nonetheless, she forces a small smile. "Thank you. I think you have the potential to be a girlboss too." She looks Katie up and down. "You just need the right person to guide you." Then she gently takes her hand. "Who better than the person in front of you?" Confidence oozes from her voice.
Katie's hand, and her body by extension, trembles with excitement. "Oh my gosh! Yes, yes, yes!" She cheers, accepting her offer. "Can Sadie be under your watch too? We're, like, BFFFL's and if I'm part of something, then she has to be too!"
Heather doesn't hesitate to nod her head in acceptance. The more the merrier. "Of course. Two heads are better than one." A corner of her lip curves upward a bit.
Katie lets out a loud squeal, such to the point that Heather and even the boat driver have to cover their ears for the duration. "Thank you so much! I promise to make you proud! I can't wait to tell her once we get to the island! I swear this will be an amazing summer!" She throws her arms up, not relenting in enthusiasm.
"And I swear you'll be dead before the summer's over." Heather mutters to herself while giving her a death glare. Then she composes herself. "Okay, first order of advice: don't ever squeal that loud again. Damaging other people's eardrums is not girlboss." She has to avoid cringing from saying that dreaded G-word.
For a brief moment, Katie looked disappointed. "Oh…" But the blink-of-an-eye moment soon passes and she smiles again, nodding. "Got it! No more loud squealing!" Even though she and Sadie have to make a sacrifice…
It'll be all worth it once they become certified girlbosses.
(Boat #08).
Moving over to the eighth boat, all seems to be calm and chill here. No rambling, no tension, none of that bad vibes. Located here are Leshawna and Trent, both minding their own business. She seems to be wearing a casual outfit, back against the cushion seat and relaxing like she had a long day at work. As for him, his getup is also casual, but he has an accessory near him - a brown guitar case with stickers all over.
"Mm-mmh! This is something the 'Shawna needs before stepping into the game!" Leshawna hums with content, her eyes closed and letting the breeze hit her. "Hoo baby, I envy anyone who owns one of these!" She glances around, getting a good look at the boat she's on. Must be a rich person thing; she envies them.
"Same here." Trent agrees, catching her attention. He's also relaxing, arms behind his head. He gives her a cool smile. "It's nice to relax and unwind before we play for a million bucks."
Leshawna returns a grin of her own. "You got that right, sugar!" Then her eyes land upon his guitar case. "Ooo I see that guitar case! Let me know if ya need a dancer!" She places a hand on her hip, looking quite confident. "Cos this bootylicious queen can bust moves that'll get the crowd on their feet!" She'll refrain from dancing for now.
Trent chuckles. "I'll think about it." He gives his guitar case a gentle pat. "I brought my guitar so I can practice. I'm confident there'll be a talent show, and I want to make sure I'm prepared for that." Best to save the guitar playing for later.
"Fo-sho, hun." Leshawna nods in understanding. "Nothing's more painful than rust, music or anything for that matter." She gives him a warm smile. "That's why I got respect for musicians. They bring fun and peace to the table. And knowing how intense games can get, I'm sure music will make sure no one gets too stressed or wild." She's hoping that won't be the case, but she's not too confident about nobody taking it too far.
"Yeah I get it." Trent nods in understanding as well. "Give the others something to cool down from." He chuckles to himself. "It's funny, I signed up for a show called Total Drama, even though I don't like drama."
"Heh. Me neither, hun." The two exchange amused looks before she continues. "But who can pass up a chance in becoming a millionaire?"
"Or getting your name out there for big record labels." Trent adds on before looking at his guitar case. "I might be a D-tier musician, but a man can hope, dream even." He looks up at the sky; it's clear and beautiful. "Being chosen among hundreds or thousands of applicants should be a sign. A good sign."
Leshawna nods, gazing up at the sky for a brief moment too. "It's a good sign, alright." She gives him a serious yet comforting look. "This show, this game we're about to enter, we're gonna learn a lot. There'll be a lotta trials and tribulations, lessons and blessings." Then another warm and hopeful smile. "But I believe the blessings will be at the end."
Trent gives her a sincere smile. "You know, has anyone told you that you'd be a good philosopher?" He raises a brow, impressed. "If not, I'll be the first to say it. You would be a good philosopher." There's emphasis on the "you".
Leshawna chuckles. "Thank you, sugar. That's what years of experience from giving advice and wisdom does to a woman." She looks proud and appreciative. Then she becomes more confident, giving him a determined and competitive look. "But don't think I'll go easy on ya either! Just cos we cool don't mean nothing! I'm aiming for number one!"
Trent gives her a confident grin as well. "I wouldn't have it any other way." As far as the game is concerned, they are rivals…
Rivals who respect each other.
(Boat #09).
Last but not least, two women are on the final boat. Two women who couldn't be more different from each other in both appearance and most likely, personality. Gwen is in the midst of writing something in her diary. Just nonstop jotting, letting thoughts turn into words. Every now and then, she gives her crewmate, Sadie, an annoyed look. Not even less than an hour and she's looking at her like a sworn enemy.
As far as appearance goes, Gwen has the softcore goth aesthetic. Sadie has the exact same attire as Katie's; she simply has a different skin tone and build.
Gwen sighs, unable to tolerate Sadie's whining for much longer. "Just my luck to be stuck with a nuisance." She goes silent for a moment, going into deep thought before shaking her head. "…No, it would end horribly." Discard that plan.
Meanwhile, with Sadie, she seems to be worried sick about Katie. "I really hope Katie's alright." She's pacing around the boat, trying to stay calm. "It's been almost 20 minutes since we got separated. I can't be there to comfort her and make sure she's safe. For all I know, her crewmate could be picking on her, or worse, manipulating her."
Gwen takes a deep breath, closes her diary, and lets her voice be heard. "Okay. I may regret this, but who's Katie?" Forget may, she will regret this.
Sadie's mood shifts to one more cheery. "My BFFFL, best female friend for life! We've been together since we were five and we're completely inseparable!" Then she realizes what she said at the end and forms a sheepish look. "…For the most part. But none of the times we separated were by choice!" She clarifies. "We grew up together, got lost in a mall together, got the chicken pox together-"
"Okay, okay, I get it." Gwen interrupts before she loses it. No way does she have the sanity and patience to listen to an entire backstory. "Look, I now get why you're concerned, but it's not like she can't take care of herself. The way you talk about her is like talking about a child. She's an adult on a 30 minute boat ride." She gives her two cents, sensitivity be damned. Then a sigh. "Just don't worry too much."
It's obvious Gwen isn't good at comforting people, as indicated by Sadie's frown. "I don't know where you got the idea that I'm treating her like a child, but there's a difference between coddling and looking out for your best friend." She places her hands on her hips like a scolding mother. "If you didn't interrupt me, you could've known the reason why I'm acting like this." Not that she's any better at diffusing a situation.
Gwen can't resist rolling her eyes. "Yup, I definitely would've gotten a reason and not an autobiography." Sarcasm oozes from her voice.
This only manages to anger Sadie further. "Okay, the sarcasm was unnecessary." She doesn't notice Gwen's slight surprise at her understanding sarcasm. "You asked who Katie is; it's not my fault you didn't ask about my behavior. Also, I actually would've told you. But since you're being a jerk, you won't get the answer now." The logical BFFFL crosses her arms and turns away, acting like a child who didn't get what they wanted.
"Missing out on the lore of two people I don't know? How tragic." Gwen drops another sarcastic remark, unfazed by Sadie's frustration.
Sadie turns around and gives the goth the scariest glare she can muster. "You're insufferable, you know that? If you weren't interested in knowing about Katie, then you should've been direct with me. I would've moved somewhere else." She comes closer to her, but having no intention of harming her. She's simply confronting and calling her out.
"Would you?" Gwen remains unmoved, unfazed, and unimpressed, raising a brow. "Alright, maybe I shouldn't have been sarcastic, but trust me, it would've been worse if I told you directly from the start." She tells her plainly.
"You act like it's impossible to be straightforward and nice at the same time." Sadie decides to walk away and sit somewhere else, but not before giving the goth one last remark. "I really hope you're just having a bad day or going through something." At last, Gwen is left alone and no longer in the presence of an annoyance. She opens her diary…
She writes down how she met an annoying person for the umpteenth time in her life.
Author's Note: It's been a long time, but here I am again! I'm back with another project (pun intended) and this time, I'm very confident I'll see this through to the end. For those also following my SYOC story, know that it's undergoing a rewrite. More on that later.
There's not much to discuss for this chapter. It's only the prologue, which introduces the B-plot (the plot involving Chris and Chef) and the contestants. I'm really happy with this approach; it kills two birds with one stone by setting up relationships via interactions and ensures that each character stands out. Just letting you know now, no, this isn't episode one divided into two parts. There'll be one chapter per episode - 18 episodes and 3 non-episode chapters. This is one of the three.
Before I end this author's note, let me drop the cast list below. No stereotypes revealed until they're eliminated because I believe it adds an element of surprise, even if they're canon characters. Oh, and it's arranged in alphabetical order, gender be damned.
I'll see you in the next chapter!
Cast List:
01.) Alejandro.
02.) Beth.
03.) Bridgette.
04.) Cody.
05.) DJ.
06.) Duncan.
07.) Geoff.
08.) Gwen.
09.) Harold.
10.) Heather.
11.) Justin.
12.) Katie.
13.) Leshawna.
14.) Lindsay.
15.) Sadie.
16.) Sierra.
17.) Trent.
18.) Tyler.