Bridgette

Chk!

Brrrrrr…..

A blonde haired, cornrows wearing teen lights up a green techno colored bong, smoking out the end of it in a messy, dark room with lava lamps and zero natural lighting in sight. She's wearing low cut jeans, sandals and a tube top, and although her eyes are closed, they flutter open with an expression of surprised confusion when the man behind the camera whispers, "Psst, Melanie, we're on!"

She goes into a coughing fit, smoke blowing out of her mouth and filling the room with herbs. She puts a fist to her chest before clearing her throat. "Yoooooo, Bridgettteeeee. Those producer people told your mom we could make a video message for you now that you're like.. Eliminated. That must suck, huh? But hey, now that you're all famous, your resume will be totally off the charts. The surf shack is always welcome to you, babe."

She lights up again. The camera man flips the camera, showing off his long, brown beard, sunglasses and slick stylized brunette hair. "What Mel-Mel means is that we love ya, babe. We're proud of you for landing such a cool dude, and we can't wait to meet him or your friends from the show. Big love!" He waves, just before taking a drag off a blunt, ending the tape.

Trent

A dashingly beautiful woman who could be a super model if she only applied herself stands in front of the camera in what looks like a modern, high end kitchen. Her hair is blonde and flowing like a waterfall kissed by the sun. Her skin is pale, freckles adorning her cheeks and shoulders. Her face is make-up defined, and her nails a cute pastel pink. She looks like she's been preparing for this.

"Trenton Montgomery Smith! Oh my goodness gracious, I cannot believe you! Signing up for a trashy reality show, breaking some poor girl's heart, and looking damn good doing it too? My sweet, handsome boy! You know, we always said you'd be a little heartbreaker, and I guess now it's true!" She giggles, her anger fading fast.

"How have you been, sweetie? I hear sad. Your father wanted to send a video of his own, but I told him that if he made you any sadder than you already are, I'd take even more cash out of his bank account than I already do. So he just told me to tell you off about wasting your life and being a disappointment and blah blah blah. Listen, sweetie: you have a gift. A true gift nobody can take away: you are famous. You can do anything you want now. I was at the store the other day, and everybody was asking me all about my little star. 'How do you feel about his relationship with that Gwen girl?' 'They're so cute together!' 'Is his real name really Grohl?' Hell, now I walk outside and expect to hear someone catcall you instead of me."

She looks into the lens with her perfect green eyes. "Trent, when you come home, you can come and live with me. I've already discussed it with your father. If you manage to save your relationship, you can bring that Gwen girl over too for dinner! I'm sure she'd be delighted to get to know your family. Well, I have to go, I have a date with an executive over at G-Man Records, soooooo write to me, baby! I'll make sure to keep my P.O. box open. Mwah!" She blows a kiss at the camera, waving her son goodbye.

LeShawna

A skinny brown girl with short, brown hair wearing a blue cap on her head, jean shorts, a pair of trendy sneakers and a green shirt sits on her pretty pink bed, Bratz and Stoked posters covering the walls. "Hi, I'm Jazzmine, and I'm with the McGillis talent agency!" The girl grabs her pink, fluffy pillow from behind her, squeezing it before closing her eyes and proceeding to act. "Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo? Hehe, or something like that.." She tosses the pillow.

"Why should I be on season 2? I play this game! But because of where I live, it's really more like a Total Drama peninsula." She checks her nails, pink and glossy as her words.

"Psst, Jazzmine.. You know you can say something nice about your friend LeShawna, right?" A voice, probably her dad, points out.

"Ooooh, right, her.." She pulls out her headshot and smiles. "You think she'd want this signed 8 '10?"

Lindsay

A tan girl with long, pink hair and blonde highlights, wearing a two-piece red swimsuit at a swimming pool slathers sunscreen all over her leg, looking up at the camera after a few more motions of her hands. There's a mole above her right breast and she has the same eyes as her sister.

"Hi, Linds! It's Kimberly! Oh my gosh, you'll never guess what happened! Just guess!" She sits there like a puppy dog waiting for Lindsay to guess. "Come on, guess!"

"Um.. I think she said I don't know, Kimmy." Her mom behind the camera says.

"Okay, well.. You were in Vogue magazine!" Kim flashes a page, which had a photo of Lindsay wearing a red tank top and her usual skirt underneath. It looks like a photo taken on the island, without her knowledge. Paparazzi, cameramen trying to make a few extra bucks, or maybe just the producers marketing the show? Who knows. "This means my sister is officially famous! Eeeeeehh!" She kicks her feet into the water, accidentally splashing an elderly man.

"Hey!"

"Oops! Sorry! What a cute old man. Anyway, we're really sorry you got booted the way you did! That Heather bitch is gonna get what's coming to her, promise big sis." She crosses her fingers. "Hugs and kisses! Oh, and before I forget, tell that cutie boyfriend of yours we said hi!" They both giggle at that moment. See you in Toronto, we miss you, byeee!"

DJ

A woman sits on a green couch covered in plastic wrap. We've seen this woman before, in a picture from DJ's audition tape. It's none other than his thick hipped, middle aged, curly haired and dark skinned Momma. She flips her hair before speaking, her voice just as squeaky as her sons.

"Devon Joseph! How you doing, baby? It has been far too long since I last seen you. Your bed's getting all even now that there ain't no big imprint in it. I've had to lift all kinds of heavy stuff on my own, and get calls from all my friends as they watch the TV and tell me about what you did this episode or that. I want you to know, son, that I ain't disappointed that you lost. All I ever wanted was for you to have a nice summer, and it looks like you did just that. I hope I can see you again soon, baby. Bye now. Momma loves you."

The wholesome clip ends with a zoomed in picture of baby DJ being held in his momma's arms shortly after child birth, with his skinny, lanky dad watching from a chair next to her.

Izzy

A live studio audience applauds as Izzy pours a beaver shaped metal bottle filled with fluid maple syrup into a mug. "Yeah, it was like this miracle! I was escaping the RCMP on a felony charge when I came across this abandoned barge off the shores of lake Heron! Inside was a cargo of maple syrup, and these cheap, plastic souvenir beavers made in China! One look at them and presto! Izzy's happy-sack was born. You can buy 'em anywhere! I'm a zillionaire! He's a model, you know? Buuut we broke up at the Playa because I found out he's a liar! And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a liar!" She snaps a picture of Justin in half with ease.

"Oh, I know what you mean, Iz. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's phonies and liars." Chris states, grinning knowingly at the camera. He could smell bullshit a mile away when it came to Izzy.

"That's two things! Here's to being famous!" She clicks her beaver bottle and his mug together before they both sip their drinks.

Geoff

A man in a full santa outfit (yet too skinny and malnourished to actually be Mr. Claus himself) has Geoff's friend Brody sat on his lap. "Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas in July, son! I-I mean, Geoff!" Okay, so it's Geoff's dad. He tugs at his white beard nervously.

"Santa! Dude! Tell Geoff what he's getting for Christmas in July when he comes home!"

"Well, Geoffrey, we're planning a huge shindig just for your welcome home party! School is going to be rough this year, it's your senior year, and we want to make positively absolutely sure that whatever happens, you have one wicked party before it all goes down! Hohoho!" He coughs, the voice too taxing to perform for too long. "A-and son? I mean, Geoff? Your father is very, very proud of you." He smiles sweetly at the camera, his blue eyes shining through.

"I'll save some milk and cookies for you bro! Miss ya, see you real soon!" Brody exclaims goofily, waving his friend goodbye.

Duncan

Three figures sit on a couch in a very traditional green living room. A blonde woman with a curvy figure and a red sweater over her sits next to a police officer wearing a tie with brown slicked back hair and a sharp jawline. Beside him is Duncan's exact copy, if he was around forty years old and had really bad graying hair, as well as a bushier unibrow and a pair of working glasses.

"Your parole officer here said we could tell you we love you." His mom genuinely states.

"Despite your arrests for the Happy Nude Years stunt." His father says.

"William.." Susan Nelson warns. Duncan's parole officer looks between them, opening a suitcase full of case files.

"Or the time you sold my hairpiece as a pet." William growls more grumpily.

"Ehehe, this is supposed to be a nice video. He could win the whole show." She whispers.

"Or the time you held a pool party in the mayor's public fountain! Come to think of it, do we love you?" William questions, looking at the camera with genuine question.

Mrs. Nelson gasps. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"Well the boys a criminal!"

"That hairpiece is what's criminal." Susan fires back. William hides his hair, offended.

"Wait, what pool party?" The parole officer asks.

"Uh oh." William mutters.

Susan stands up. "Look, Duncan, we believe in you! You've done some.. Unorthodox things to get this far, but as long as you win the money, your college fund will be okay and you'll be able to pay off your lawyers fees."

"Yeah, and if you're still hellbent on leaving the house, you can do that too." Mr. Nelson states.

"Okay, you know what?" Susan sighs, grabbing the camera off the tripod to focus on herself. "Just.. know that we love you and miss you, regardless of what your father says. Michael says hi."

Owen

Two large folks sit on a couch, one side completely lopsided due to the male's incredible mass. The woman is a cute blonde with big sweet eyes. Owen's parents, no doubt.

"Hey, Owen, this is your folks. Well, you uh, you know it's your folks.. Ah geez, can we start over?" Mr. Mccord asks his wife nervously. He's already sweating.

She ignores him, taking the pressure off by speaking her mind. "They say the camera adds ten pounds, but I say you look terrific! When you up and went missing, sweetie, we were sooo worried. But when we realized you were on television, we were sure you had made the right choice. All the successful people's made it on television."

"Oh yeah, like Chris Farlie, Jack Black, Norm MacDonald, even that Chris guy you're under! Er.. that brings us to our next point.." The two parents look at each other concerningly before holding hands.

"Owen, honey, if we ever made you feel like you couldn't be yourself around us.. I need you to know that I am so, so sorry that we made you feel that way." Mrs. Mccord sniffles, grabbing a tissue to blow into it.

Mr. Mccord rubs her back comfortingly. "We know you're bisexual now, son, and though it's an adjustment to be sure, we're not giving up on you. You're still my boy. Heck, when you burped the entire ABC's in that talent episode, I've never felt prouder to be your father."

"Not even as proud as when you played the boulder in your Indiana Jones musical!" Mrs. Mccord peaks, whimpering into her tissue in reminisce.

"You really showed old Indy what for! Anywho, you got a real chance of winning this thing, kiddo, so make us proud, eh?"

"Oh, and be on the lookout, baby! I sent you a care package full of gravy~!" Momma Owen baby talks.

"That should make bath time a little more fun, huh buddy?" Mr. Mccord nudges his giggling wife, just before the footage cuts out.

Gwen

A skinny teenage boy who couldn't be any older than fourteen wearing a beanie and a Papa Roach shirt sits next to his curly haired brunette mother, a pale woman in a pink skirt and blouse. The living room looks remarkably normal for a goth's house.

"Oh, Gwen where do we start?" Ms. Fahlenbock, divorcee, wonders.

"You had sex on live TV!" Her little brother laughs, pointing at the camera in amusement.

"Andy!" She smacks her son upside the head.

"Owww.. Mom!"

"He doesn't mean it. This is a no judgment zone. Just like we don't judge your brother for his little naughty habit."

"H-hey, everyone at my school is gonna see this." He whispers into her ear.

"They already know, sweetie! She mentioned it in one of the episodes."

"Ugh…" He buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, yes, I wanted to say that you've been through so much in your life, honey, and even though I can't be there to support you like a mother should, I can cheer you on from the sidelines and tell you that you don't need a Trent in your life to win. You're a Fahlenbock. We persevere! No matter what anybody says." Her mom valiantly states.

"Yeah, also, can you buy me a PS5 when you win? That would make you even cooler than you already are." Andy asks, lights in his eyes like a star.

"Okay, sweetie, love you, kick Heather's butt for me! Buh bye!" She waves merrily, Andy following suit with a toothy smile.

Heather

Two adults in their late thirties, one white blonde preppy looking man wearing a pink button up and cargo shorts, dances hand-in-hand with his short haired Japanese wife, who wears yoga pants that really show off her butt, and a striped sweater. Mr. Vandervelde smacks said booty as the lights flash pink and purple rave colors. A mover carries a large supply of shoes out the door.

That's when a cameraman goes "Psht!" alerting both parents to the recording. They sit down.

"Oh, uh, we're rolling? Oopsie!" They put their party hats away as the lights turn back to normal. "Hi, Heather feather! It's moomsie and poopsie! We miss you so much! My golf game has really been off since you've been gone.." He scratches his head as a mover passes by, a chair with Heather's portrait on it carried outside.

"The house is starting to feel… quieter, without you." Her mom says carefully.

"Right, right! So when you win that money, you can invest.. Are you ready, should I tell her?" Mr. Vandervelde asks excitedly.

"Oh, I'll do it! You can buy your own house! We're giving you permission to move out." Mrs. Vandervelde reveals enthusiastically.

"Yup, total permission!"

"Hey, where do ya want me to put her bed?" A gravelly voiced mover asks from the side. Both parents go wide eyed.

"Gotta go! Love you!" Her dad waves, a fake smile on his face and her moms as the footage fades to black.