There may be some content not for younger kids. However, there is nothing here they wouldn't say on the Total Drama series.
Tdiandrockmusic here, or TDIRM with my latest story. We all know the contestants, but what if they were forced to lie about who the really were for ratings. Even their names were changed. I'll show the true colors of all the contestants plus Chris and Chef. I've decided to let other people do some of the short stories. Just say who you are though. If a character is already used, you can just make another story with that character. Oh, and if there are any spelling or grammatical mistakes, I'll fix them to the best of my ability. And most importantly, YOU DO NOT NEED TO ASK ME TO DO A STORY. JUST DO IT, AND YOU DON't NEED TO USE A CURRENTLY UNUSED CHARACTER.
Italics are thoughts, bolded text is lyrics.
All eyes in the school cafeteria are on two rivals as their latest bit of childish bickering begins.
"What do you mean 'I tried out too'?! You did it just to irk me Samantha!"
"Oh quit the whole drama queen act. So I tried out, get over it Crystal!"
The two girls even seem like enemies. They look totally opposite each other. One is tanned, skinny and tall, and the other is short, chubby,and pale.
"You just won't admit your jealous that I'll be on TV!"
"Well somebody needs to deflate your ego the size of this state!"
"Ohhh you did not just go there."
"Ohhh yes I did."
"Well now there on to us and look how there gonna make us act!"
"I know that but... oh skip it. What are they gonna call call you instead of Crystal Jacobs?"
"Sadie. And what will they call you instead of Samantha Travers"
"Katie. Now let's act like BFwhatevers. Don't worry, I'll despise it too."
The two grumble and walk out of the cafeteria, leaving only relieved schoolmates.
The latest photoshoot has ended. One disgrutled model takes off his jacket almost immedialy.Another model, an incredibly pretty brunette speaks to him.
"So Ray, heard you tried out for some lame reality show."
"Yup, it's true Melissa. Least it's at a resort," Ray replies.
"Why are you so bummed? This is 100,000 dollars we're talkin' 'bout. That's a lot of clothes, makeup, shoes...wonderous shoes," Melissa counters.
"Yeah, I know, but I'll be stuck on an island for eight weeks with 21 losers," Ray says.
"But your the incredibly strong, incrdibly hot Ray Somers the Great!" Melissa shouts attracting the stares of more than a few people.
"I know, but they want me to be a totally different person," Ray points out.
"But you're an actor too. No biggie."
"But you haven't seen this character. It's going to be disturbing for those beautiful eyes in your possesion,"Ray says."Now I'm going to change out of this dorksuit and then I'll talk."
"Wait, what will your name be?"Melissa asks.
Ray kisses Melissa's cheek, and leaves.
A Volkswagen Camper moves across the New Mexico desert kicking up a raging maelstrom of red dust. A girl with long waist-length brown hair meditates in the back while her mother drives. The mother speaks
"Lily, why are you insisting me to drive you to the hair salon on today of all days? Why did you buy all those clothes? Are you not happy with your life? Please tell me your not conforming!"
Lily does not reply at first. A normal mother would raise her voice and repeat the question, but Loretta Hansen isn't normal.
"Is the earth speaking to you?" The hippie mother asks.This question makes sense. The Earth would most likely speak to you in a place like Ciela Vista, New Mexico. (Made up the town.I'm pretty sure it means Sky View in Spanish.)
"No mom," Lily finally replies,"I'm getting my hair cut, then I need you to take me to the airport."
"What's inspiring to do this?!"
"I'm set to be on a reality television show. I tried out to spread our message, but they want me to be a new person."Lily answers.
"Why?" her mom asks.
"They only have ratings in mind.Don't worry, one day Karma will catch up to them," Lily says still calm,"I'm nervous because I'm scared to part with most of my hair. And my favorite skirt." Lily points to the long skirt that is billowing around her.
"Well, we're almost there," Loretta says.
A minute later, the old Volkswagen pulls up to a dingy hair salon and Lily steps out. As she opens the door her mother cries out.
"Will they change your name?!"
"Yes," Lily answers,"It'll be Courtney."
A young man shuffles slowly across his room. Once again, it's raining.It's unusually warm for December. In Seattle, the weather always matches his state of mind. He puts a pair of earbuds on and listens to the song that comes out of them.
This is my December,
This is my time of the year.
This is my December,
This is all so clear
Funny how some stupid song could fit so well
This is my December,
This is my snow covered home.
This is my December,
This is me alone.'
Yes, this song does fit. My mom and sister avoid me, and Dad left us all on those stupid "business trips"
Just wish I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed
Take back all the things I said
To make you feel like that
'Just wish I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed
Take back all the things I said to you''''
I had acted stupid to my family, and now they want me away from them. Why can't they forgive?
'And I'd give it all away
'Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
Just to have someone to come home to''''
Why can't anyone be home? Do they dislike me that much? Why does Jess seem so perfect to "Mom and "Dad"
This is my December,
'These are my snow covered dreams.
This is me pretending,
This is all I need.''''
The young man turns off the song. He's listened to enough.
Jake McFarrell doesn't exist anymore. There's only "Trent" now. I'm ready for the show
Note From the Author:
The song I used was My December by Linkin Park. I do not own it, and here's a link to the band profile on some site, just type in my december at the bar at the top
In a crowded auditorium, a girl finishes a particually interesting and intelligent speech. As she exits, the principal stops her,
"Ms.Crowley, amazing speech. You have a gift. But Kristin, we don't allow those," the principal points to her hat."Please take it off."
"Ok, I guess," Kristin says shakily. She takes off her hat. Instead of her chocolate brown hair, long blond hair tumbles out of her hat,"This is why I was wearing it."
"Why did you dye your hair?" her principal asks.
"I tried out for a reality TV show, but they want me to be somebody the total opposite of what I am. Now I don't want to go, but my family needs this money. What should I do Mr. Anderson?"
"Kristin, you'll have to do what you can for your family I guess. I know you probably want to hear something different, but I don't know what to say."
"They want me to be a dumb blonde though. It's tough, but I can act. I been practicing for months," Kristin says,"And by the way, it isn't Kristin anymore. It's Lindsay."
A young man opens a door and walks into a room. His mother is laying on a bed. She looks pale and withered, like a plant that was determined enough to try and grow under a board. That likening also descibes her personality.The young man places a tray in front of her.
"Mom, I brought breakfast in bed."
"Oh honey, you shouldn't have. I was going to take you and your father to IHOP." His mother says cheerfully.
The boy cringes at the thought of his slightly crazy, terminally ill mother taking him out in her vintage 79' Pontiac Firebird.
"That isn't neccesary Mom."
"Oh nonsense Tommy. I have to repay you for your kindness."
"But I'm family mom."
Tommy's mother hesitates to say anything, knowing that Tommy has a point. But she speaks anyway.
"But in the end, I'm your mother. Whatever I say, goes."
Now Tommy hesitates, knowing that his mother has a point. His mother goes on,
"Tommy, you do know that I'm sick and that soon all you know of me is a tombstone reading Jill Webster, so enjoy the time you have left with me," Mrs. Webster continues.
Tommy speaks " Ummmmmm Mom," he is unable to speak as his mom has cut him off.
"Thomas Webster, you get in the car. No ifs,ands, or buts."
"But, Mom," Tommy begins to speak really fast "I'm going on a reality show, they want me to be a completly new person, and their calling me "Ezekial".
His mother stares at him, then starts to laugh.
"Ezekial! What kind of a dork name is that? When do you have to get to the airport?"
"Right now.I'm already packed though."
"Well then come on, we'll get something to eat at the airport. Let's go!"
A nerd with thick glasses unlocks the door to his house and runs up the stairs to his
bathroom. He picks up an electric razor, but is unable to bring it to his curly hair. He
knows he has to hurry up as in an hour and a half, his mom will come home and then things
wouldn't be good. He's already left a note on the kitchen table.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm sorry that I have to leave like this. When you told me to cancel my audition for that reality show, I didn't know that I couldn't. The producers want me in or else. What the else is is a detail that I don't like to think about. Again, I'm sorry. I'll have a different identity, so you won't recognize me. I'll see you at the end of summer.-Joey Grisson.
He goes back to the bathroom, he takes the electric razor and cuts off most of the hair on the sides of his head. He leaves the hair in the middle intact he looks down at the bottle of hairspray and dye on the counter."Green mohawk it is," he thought.
A girl with long brown hair is speaking on her cell phone while driving her red convertible.
"I know, Addison. He has the cutest butt, ever. Oh, just a minute. I'm getting another call."
The girl switches to the other caller.
"Hello? This is Olivia. I got on? Woohoo! That's so uber awesome! You want me to cut my hair how? If it means getting on TV, I'm so over it. TTYL! Oh... I mean, bye, I guess."
She goes back to her previous phone call.
"Hey, Addison. You know that reality show I tried out for, or whatev? I totally got on! They said my personality was already covered on the show, though, and I need a new look. But I could win $100,000. I can buy four totally fetch designer hand bags. I just pulled up to the salon. Gotta go, girl. No, from now on my name is 'Gwen'. Weird, huh? Anyway, seeya when I get back."
A teenage boy is sitting on a couch. A man is sitting in a chair next to him taking notes.
"I'd like you to try and express your feelings, Luke," the man says.
The boy looks frustrated and says, "That's just it, doctor. That's why I'm here. I feel completely unable to express my feelings into words. Does that make sense?"
"Of course, Luke," the psychiatrist says, "It would comfort you to know that I have many patients who are unable to open up about themselves., not because of shyness, but because they have a social disorder."
"You think I have a," the boy hesitates at his next word, "disorder?"
The psychiatrist nods and says, "We'll run some more tests, but I'm pretty certain."
The boy looks sad and says, "I don't want to be labeled as different."
"Luke, it's nothing to be ashamed of," the psychiatrist says. "Many people who have similar problems with communicating are able to lead completely normal, happy lives."
"They do?" Luke asks.
"Of course, Luke," the psychiatrist assures. "Look, I heard about this television show that was looking for an outgoing young man."
Luke says, "That doesn't sound like me, at all."
"Exactly," the psychiatrist says. "They're casting for a television show, they're looking for certain manufactured personalities. I think it would be a good chance for you to be around other teens in sort of a role not your own. I think it will help you to express yourself better, and help you interact with other young people, if you imagined yourself as someone else."
"If you think it will help me, doctor," Luke says, "I'll do it."
"I think it's entirely healthy for you to make a major step like this, in order to break out of your shell," the psychiatrist says.
"Thank you, doctor," the teen says, "I hope you're right."
"Here is a form for the show," the psychiatrist hands the boy the paper. "It should list the things you need to know. Oh, and one more thing you should know. The character I want you to apply for is named 'Owen'."
The most popular girl in school Kathy sits at her lunch table.
"Kathy did you get the part?" asked her best friend Isabell.
"Yes but I hate my character." Kathy responded.
"Why? What's your character like?"
"Ouch, that's sad. What's her name?"
"But it's for a million dollars!" Isabell said.
"Still but I wanted to be the hot girl!" Kathy shot back.
"Sorry I was just trying to be nice."
"Well your doing a crappy job of it!"
"Oh, It's time for cheer leading practice, that should make you feel better." Isabell said.
"Whatever get my books from my locker while on the way." Kathy ordered.
"Yes Kathy." Isabell said quietly.
Both girls got up and left the table.
Mrs. Starch's math class is in full session when a girl bursts through the door so quickly, her sillouette wasn't seen through the frosted glass window in the door.
"I got in, everybody. Feel free to admire me."
"Anna," Mrs. Starch replies, "Why are you arriving late and talking about this acceptance nonsense?"
" I got accepted into a reality show where I could get 100 grand by surviving on an island for eight weeks with 21 unintelligent freaks. And for the arriving late part, I got interviewed by the producers. It's not as if I'm not a prodigy." Anna counters.
The class groans at Anna's comment. So what if she skipped a grade. Must she continually rub it in their perfectly average minds?
"Oh,and also," Anna continues, "The answers are 1,062 and 14 squared."
The class groans even more. When Anna purposely says the answers,all it does is make Mrs. Starch give them new questions for Anna to give the answers to.
"Anyway," Anna continues while flipping her hair, "I'll have a new identity for the show. If anyone wants to envy me, I'll be Bridgette."
Three teens are sitting together at a table in their school's cafeteria. A sweet looking blonde girl is talking, "So, I talked to the producers of that new reality show, they totally want me on."
A black haired girl says, "They'll totally let you on. You would make for awesome television, Heather."
Heather says, "Thanks, Ashley. What do you think, Kelly? If you were casting for the show, would you put me on?"
"Are you insane, girl?" Kelly says. "Of course they'll put you on, you are so the wickedest girl I know."
"You're just saying that," Heather says. "I'll see you guys later. I have to go break up with Joey."
Ashley says, "I thought you said that Joey was your soul mate?"
Kelly says, "Not to mention how cute he is."
"You guys can't be serious," Heather says, "Did you see his new hair cut? Ew! Anyway, bye for now!"
After Heather left the area, Ashley says to Kelly, "Do you really think Heather has a chance?"
"No way," Kelly says. "I have something to tell you."
"What is it?" Ashley asks.
Kelly smiles and says, "I auditioned for the show, too. The producers called me earlier today to tell me I got on!"
"Oh, wow!" Ashley says. "That's so awesome! Did you tell Heather?"
"Are you kidding?" Kelly says, "It would kill her! I asked the producers if she got on, and they said she didn't have the look they were going for."
Ashley says, "You're right, that would kill her. Can I tell her?"
The teens giggle, and Kelly says, "Sure. There is something weird about the show, though."
Ashley asks, "What is it?"
Kelly says, "They want me to act like someone else."
"That is so wrong," Ashley says.
Kelly says "I know, right? They said they wanted someone with an athletic body type."
"That sounds like you," Ashley says.
"Yeah," Kelly says, "Heather doesn't let anyone with an ounce of fat in her little clique. But, like, who's complaining? We're the most popular kids in school."
"Hanging with Heather," Ashley says, "At least has that going for it. When do you leave for the show?"
"Tonight," Kelly says.
Ashley says, "Good luck, then, Kelly."
"Thanks," Kelly says. "Another weird part of the show, though, is that they want me to change my name. They thought Kelly was too 'girly'."
Ashley says, "That's totally shallow of them. Anyway, what name are you going to go by, for future reference?"
Kelly smiles and says, "Tyler."
"Mr. Donovan Ryder, please come up to my desk," Said a strict looking teacher.
A boy wearing a striped sweatjacket and baggy cargo pants walked up to the teacher's desk.
"I told you already, Mr. Stevenson. I'm not Donovan. I'm Bullet," said Donovan.
"I'll call you Bullet if you ever pass my class, which we both know won't be very soon," Mr. Stevenson said as he handed Donovan a test.
"You gave me an F?!? That's lower than usual!" Donovan complained.
"You didn't even get your name right," Mr. Stevenson explained, pointing to the sloppy handwriting in the corner, reading Bullet.
Donovan sighed, and left the classrom.
"Yo, Bullet! Wanna head down to the skate park after school?" asked a boy dressed similar to Donovan.
"I already told you, Greg! I'm gonna be going away to be on a reality show tonight," Donovan said.
"They let you on? Awwwwwwwwesome!" said Greg.
"Yeah. But they want me to change my entire personality," Donovan said.
"Who do they want you to be?" asked Greg.
"They want me to be some straight-A, nerdy, sarcastic, know-it-all dude named Noah," said Donovan sadly.
"But, dude! You're a straight-D student! How are you gonna pull this off?" asked Greg.
"I don't know, but I'll try. See ya later, dude," Donovan said as he left his friend.
Author: DJ Spenstar
Two guys skate down the road, cops chasing after them for reckless driving.
"Hey Luke, forgot to tel you, I got onto that show!" said a guy with short black hair and pale skin.
"Really, Greg? I wanted to tell you the same! I'm on it too! Thing is, I have to be someone completely different from who I am." said the second guy, a dude with short blond hair, a baseball cap, and a shirt riddled with skulls.
"Same here. I have to be some looks-obsessed freak. I'll also need some fake tanner. Now where am I going to get that?" asked Greg.
"Sucks for you. You can use my sister's, she won't mind. I'm going to have to trade my cool cap for a weird hat, and wear a pink jacket instead of my skull shirt! How embarrassing! I gotta be a party freak..." said Luke.
"Well," said Greg, "At least we're in this together. Now we better get to your place be fore the cops catch up. Maybe they won't recognize me."
"Here's hopin'" said Luke back. "Anyway, my name is even more messed up! It's Geoff, how stupid is that? I thought it wouldn't be spelled so stupidly. I'm gonna be a freak."
"Don't worry," said Greg with reassurance. "I'm gonna be called Justin. And after the megaphone incident today, I think I'm gonna have to rest my voice most of the time. Oh well, it's that or nothing."
Dylan Karnach walks into his mother's office stiffly, carrying a long, white briefcase and wearing a suit. His firm black hair now no longer short, but long and curly, makes him look practically like a different person. At least it hadn't been dyed yet.
Mindy Karnach turns around in her loose blue swivel chair and greets him. "Salutations, Danielle. Say, what are you doing here? Dylan's not here yet--"
"This IS Dylan, mom." Dylan hoped his mom was just kidding around, but it really didn't look like she was.
"Oh! Sorry, Dylan." Mindy looks at her son quizzically. "But what's with the long hair? You getting a wig for a new play?"
"No, mom. Remember that show application I found for Total Drama Island?"
"...I had to go on with it. Turns out since I got the application, I can't back out. What's even worse is they're making us have new personalities. I even did my audition tape at Bill's house to make sure I didn't disturb the rest of the house. I was soaked when it was done."
"And?" Dylan's older brother, Bob, who was seated next to Mindy, asked as if he was bored.
"You won't believe this. I have to leave tonight. Soon I've got to go back, style my hair right, dye my hair and change my clothes into the dorky costume I have. It's too wild."
"Yeah, right," Bob snorts. "You've just got another suit in there, trying to fool us. You're trying to show off, like the schmazzy fancy little sixteen-year-old you are."
"Come on, can't you be nice now?" Dylan rolls his eyes. "This is serious. I got to have tickets for that plane by ten. It's horrible but true."
"Uh, Dylan," Mindy speaks up, "Bob could be right. If you weren't fooling, why didn't you tell all of us this before?"
"That doesn't matter anymore!" Dylan yells sharply. Mindy jumps. "Sorry, just having to get in my stupid new personality. I'm not trying to impersonate Weird Al Yankovic with this curly hair. I have to be a girl."
"Where's your proof?" Bob sneers.
"Right here." Dylan snaps open the briefcase and pulls out a life-size photo of a fierce-looking woman. At the top-right corner of the paper it says Izzy.
I'm really scared, right now. But I'm okay, momma, I just didn't want to come home. I know you said Ramon was bad news, momma, but I didn't want to hear it. You never aprove of my friends. But Momma, you were right. Ramon is a bad guy. I kind of got involved in something, momma. We were at a convenience store, and Ramon told me to stay in the car. I heard... gunshots, momma. Ramon came out of the store with all sorts of money, momma. I knew what happened, I thought about you warning me about him, momma. I drove away. He shot at the car, but missed. I drove to the police station and told them what happened. I wanted to make you proud for once, momma. But... They still haven't found him, momma. I've been hiding out, I don't want to lead him to our apartment, I never brought him there, before, because I didn't want you to know I was hanging out with him. So I figured if he found out where we lived, he'd come for us, and then maybe... I'm rambling. I've been a nervous wreck since this happened.
I asked the police about some witness protection thing, but they didn't think my case was serious enough, or something, and they said all kinds of paperwork would have to be filled out... I don't think I have enough time to wait for that, momma. I heard about this reality show. If I join it, I'd be sequestered and safe. I met with the producers, I didn't tell them about what happened, but they seemed to love me. They wanted some tough looking guy who's afraid of everything... They didn't pressure me to tell them why I was so scared all the time, and I didn't volunteer the info. I wish I could stay with you, momma, but I think the safest thing is for me to go away for awhile. Maybe they'll find Ramon while I'm gone. It should be plenty of time before the show even airs.
You should probably dispose of this letter, momma, just to be safe. I won't use my real name on the show, just my initials. Also, I've had a little makeover. Nothing major, though, momma, just new clothes and I grew out a little beard. I love you, momma. I want you to know that, and I want you to know that I'll see you soon. Don't be scared for me, momma. I'll be alright.
I moved out of where I was living. I moved from the Bronx to New Jersey. (Yes, crappy, old, New Jersey.) I moved their because my aunt Lucy lived down their. At first I thought it was a great decision, but my mind had mislead me.
When I first moved down to the Jersey Shore, I did not know many people, but many people knew me. One day, I went to a local diner to get some lunch. I met this guy named Hamilton, Hamilton George. I though that it was a peculiar name, but that's just me. I met him at the counter. He had short, dark brown hair. His shirt was tight, but he was also muscular. Then there was this blond woman that was sitting next to him. She had short blond hair, a low-cut shirt.
Back to my story, he was sitting with her when he introduced his self to me. I greeted him warmly. He shook my hand and it was very cold. His skin was very pale. He looked odd to me. Then Hamilton turned to me. He asked me if i'd been on a reality show. I told him that I had been on a reality show.
He kept asking questions like "How was it?" , "Are you famous for being on T.V?" and "Did you win money?" I felt like I was being interviewed. The waitress brought me my coffee and I drank it as he was questioning me. "Did you like it?" The questions came non-stop. Finally, I gulped down my coffee, paid, then hurried out the door. I went over to the side of the diner to call my aunt and ask her if she could picke me up. (I didn't feel like walking.) That Hamilton guy followed me. He asked where I lived. I just told him a random adress, hoping for him to get lost.
My aunt came up in her car and I got into the car. As my aunt was driving away, he was staring at me. When we were almost down the hill, a car was right behind us. We drove to the house and the car parked right next to ours. (Well, not really next to the car but like on the street.) Me and my aunt walked into our house. I went to my room, sat down on my bed and opened up my laptop. As my bestfriend, Jasmine posted something on my wall, on Facebook, I saw a dark shadow move across the window. I thought it was a bird of some sort. Then I heard a tap. It was faint, but clear. I walked up to my window, opened it and looked around. Nobody was there.
I went out into the living room to find my aunt and tell her. Little did I know that she was out. The note she left read that she was going to leave me with the house for a week. Oh goody! I thought. It was around eleven-ish that I heard another tap on the window. This time it wasn't a tap. It was more like a punch. Or a loud thud. I walked outside win my pajamas. I saw a shadow run across the main road. I investigated the window. There was a mud stain. As if a hand put mud there. I walked back inside, closed the door and heard a big smash coming from my room. I didn't want to open the door to my room because I was to afraid to. That night I slept on the couch.
This morning I woke up on the couch. I didn't hear any fussing in my room so I figured that I could go in. I grabbed a butcher knife and slowly walked towards the door. I equpped the knife close to me. I turned the knob with one hand and kicked the door open with my foot. The door slammed open and I was stunned. My bed sheets were falling off of the bed, my jewerly was around on the floor. There was piles of dirt on my bed, the window was broken. My dresser drawers were emptied out on my bed. I moved to clothes. I found a wallet. It had a drivers license and all. It was all wet and muddy. I tried to read the license. The only part of it that I could make out was the "lton" on the last part of the name. I felt entirely creeped out. Nothing major happened that day becides rocks falling down from the chimney. That night I stayed up waiting to the "lton" guy to come. I invited Jasmine to help me catch the guy. In the middle of the night we both heard the noise coming from my room. Thus time we went in when the noise was going on. We bursted open the door and this person charged at us. Me and Jasmine ran. The door was locked so we had to unlock it. But the key was oddly missing.
This is Jasmine in LeShawna's diary, LeShawna...I don't know where she went! When we saw that guy, we both ran and she went missing, please find her!
This story was posted in the Eaton Town News Daily. Jasmine still hoped to find her missing bestfriend. Officers searched all around the tri-state area. No sign of LeShawna had shown up. Shortly after LeShawna's disappearance, her aunt went missing also.
"ug why me huh just please tell me,why me?"Said a grown up man
"W-why did I get myself into this."He said"I just got out from prison?"
"My Name is Miles Hachet ex-DJ,VJ,Rap,army man,and now criminal"
I walked away from the prison hoping the guards don't find me until i say this person He had black hair,blue vest,and some Khaki pants.
I said Hello for some reason and he said this"Hello my name is Christan Matheny McCleanI am Hosting a show called Total Drama Something and I am looking for a Chef
I said to him I am a bad Chef and he said perfect and said "well we need a bad chef so I will hire you and drop everything in your record that is bad.
I would be an idout if i said no so i said yes and i went with him to delete my criminal record
“Hey, Mandi!” My best friend, Norma, said to me as we were walking to homeroom.
“Hey, what’s up?” Before Norma could answer, however, I tripped, sending my textbooks spiraling across the tiled floor. “Ack!” I lamented. “I’m such a klutz!”
“Don’t worry, Mandi, it’s OK.” Norma assured me as she helped me with my books.
“Yeah…I’m just nervous…I got on a reality show.”
“Really? Oh my gosh, that’s awesome! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Norma squealed as we continued to walk down the hall.
“Yeah…but they want me to be a freak-o girl with anger issues.”
“Oh…well, THAT’S not good. I mean, you’re the nicest person I know!”
“Thanks…but they also want me to be insanely athletic, and I have a D- in gym! I’m gonna have to work out 24/7…”
“Ouch…well, what’re you calling yourself, so I can root for you, at least?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it…how about Eva?”
Withdrawn for revision
Jennifer knocked on the dooor of her best friend, Alice's home. "Hi Jennifer." Alice greeted Jennifer.
"Alice, guess what, you know that one guy who wanted our autographs last night at the theater?" Jennifer asked.
"Yeah." Alice answered.
"Well, we really signed contracts to be on Total Drama Island!" Jennifer complained.
"WHAT!?" Alice yelled in shock.
"And the worst part is I have to be a goth, and you have to be a mean girl, who only wants to win, and.." Jennifer paused.
"What?" Alice asked.
"We have to hate each other!" Jennifer screamed.
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" The two screamed swo loud, that the windows of Alice's house broke. .
Chapter Twenty-Two: Rise of the Dragon Queen
AUTHOR’S NOTE: After producing TDI, Fresh TV produced a dubbed French-language version for the Quebec market. This version included French text in the titles.
The French version changed most of the character names. Some of the French names were simple transliterations (e.g. Katie and Sadie became Katrina and Sandrine), while others were completely different (e.g. Owen became Gontran and Duncan became Hugo). For more French character names, visit Teletoon’s French-language website.
The following vignette reverses the show’s production history, treating the French version as the original and the English version as the dub, because no one has done that yet and it sets up a couple of in-jokes.
Brianna’s cell phone clamored for attention. The distinctive ringtone identified the caller as her BFF, Kelsey.
Brianna flipped open her phone. "Hey, Kels, what's up?"
Kelsey, the excitement audible in her voice, came right to the point. “Guess what, Bree? I scored a spot on that reality show!”
“I am so jealous,” Brianna admitted. “Maybe we could have been on it together if I’d met the requirements. Why they only wanted people who can speak French is beyond me.” Brianna was rehashing, as she had told Kelsey of that bitter disappointment when it first struck.
I guess the show’s going to air in Quebec,” Kelsey speculated.
“Yeah, but if that’s the case, why didn’t they just hire a bunch of Quebecois?” Brianna pressed. “They could have gotten all the French speakers they wanted, with a lot less trouble. Plus, they’d have people who speak French as their first language, instead of their second or third.” Brianna was getting exercised about her disappointment, and not for the first time. “I mean, come on! Why on earth are they trolling for Francophones in B.C.?”
“I dunno,” Kelsey confessed. “Maybe they didn’t want everyone to have the same accent.
“Anywho,” Kelsey added, changing the subject, “it’s not going to be quite what we expected. I thought the point of reality shows was for people to be themselves, but the producers want me to be something completely different.”
“How so?” Brianna asked, her curiosity piqued and her disappointment forgotten for the nonce.
“The person they want me to be is a real piece of work,” Kelsey explained. “A real queenie, totally full of herself and slimy to boot. But, hey, for a shot at a hundred grand, I’m willing to be Marie Antoinette for eight weeks, as long as I don’t have to date Monsieur Guillotine. Who knows, it might still be fun.”
Brianna was feeling much better about not having gotten her proverbial chance at bat. She would have loved to be on a reality show, but as herself. She had no aspirations to an acting career, but she knew that Kelsey did. Kelsey had had significant roles in several school plays, including the most recent musical; and, although she had just finished her sophomore year, she was widely regarded as the best actress at their school. No longer envious, Brianna was now feeling unreservedly happy for her BFF.
“Well, I heard somewhere that most actors like to play villains,” Brianna suggested. Y’know, maybe the real purpose of this ‘reality show’ is to check out wannabe actors. I mean, that’s pretty much what Survivor turned into, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Kelsey allowed. “The more I think about it, the more this feels like a regular scripted TV show, only without the script. Maybe they are looking for improv actors.
“Anyway, there’s more,” Kelsey continued. “They’re giving me a fetch makeover. I’m going to have an array of cosmetics you wouldn’t believe.”
Now Brianna was confused. “But you never wear makeup,” she pointed out. Kelsey was known for a well-scrubbed, unpretentious look. T-shirts or tank tops, jeans and sneakers were her usual attire.
“The reason I never wear makeup,” Kelsey answered, “is that I was never any good at applying it. I always came out looking like a painted cat.” Kelsey virtually spat those last words, so thick was her distaste for that ill-fated experimentation in her middle school years. “But the producers assure me,” she continued, “that they’re going to teach me how to do it right. If this were a regular show, they’d just have somebody apply it for me; but since I’m going to be on camera pretty much 24/7, I need to know how to do it for myself.”
“Wow. You’re going to have to teach me when you get back,” Brianna pleaded. Unlike Kelsey, Brianna did use makeup regularly, but her skill in applying it was average at best.
“Of course,” Kelsey replied, with the air of one stating the obvious.
Kelsey continued her litany of perks. “I’m also going to get a major wardrobe upgrade. It seems my ‘Queen of France’ persona is going to be very fashion-conscious. It’s going to be designer everything, but mostly on the skimpy side.”
“Well, you’ve got the body for it,” Brianna observed. Indeed, her friend was tall, slim and leggy, with skin that would be at home in a moisturizer commercial; and her chest, while not exceptional, was worthy of her other features.
Brianna, while still happy for her friend, was starting to feel envious again. Kelsey was already pretty, and it was starting to sound like the promised makeover could turn her into a genuine traffic-stopper. Brianna had to remind herself that these perks were coming at a price—a complete personality change—that she would not have been willing to pay.
“So,” Brianna continued, “is there anything about you that they’re not changing?”
“Well,” Kelsey replied, pondering for a moment, “they’re not making me change my hair color, but they’re giving me 30-centimeter extensions.”
This just gets better and better, Brianna thought. Kelsey’s hair was a bit on the long side now, and adding another 30 cm would bring it roughly to her waist.
In her mind’s eye, the image-conscious Brianna was getting a clear picture of her friend post-makeover. Kelsey was of mixed race, inheriting a fair complexion from her father’s Germanic lineage, with almond eyes and jet-black hair courtesy of her mother’s Asian stock.
“Sounds like they’re going for a ‘dragon lady’ look,” Brianna pronounced, “or maybe a comic book femme fatale.”
“That’s kind of what I gathered,” Kelsey replied. “Oh, and people won’t be calling me ‘Kelsey’ on the show. We’re all getting French names, or at least French-sounding, and so," she continued, now adopting an exaggeratedly formal tone and an equally exaggerated French accent, "you may address me as ‘Marilou’.”
After taking a moment to consider her response, Brianna declaimed, as if making an announcement to a crowd, “Presenting Marilou, Dragon Queen of…France.” In a normal tone, she added, “That just sounds so wrong.
“Anyway,” Brianna continued, changing the subject, “when do you start?”
“Pretty much right away,” Kelsey revealed. “I’m at the airport now. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say proper goodbyes, but the producers probably didn’t want us talking about it too much beforehand. It’s kind of cloak-and-dagger, really. In fact, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about it now, but they didn’t come right out and say I couldn’t, and I couldn’t resist.
“Oh, and there’s something else you’re not going to believe,” Kelsey added mysteriously. “One of the other contestants is from this area, and I actually know her. She doesn’t go to our school, but the French club sometimes does things with the clubs at other schools. That’s how we met. We’re not all that close, but we chat once in awhile and we occasionally hang together.
“Her name’s Jenna, but her French name will be ‘Joelle’. She's so sweet, you have no idea.”
“So, naturally,” Brianna suggested, “she’s going to be a nasty street punk or something.”
“Close,” Kelsey confirmed. “She’s actually going to be a surly Goth.”
Is there any other kind? Brianna thought, but she said only, “well, at least she’ll have a pretty name,” with the air of one making a major concession. Neither Brianna nor Kelsey cared much for either the Goth aesthetic or the Goth worldview.
“Do you know what kinds of perks she’s getting?” Brianna inquired.
“Well, she’s getting some nice clothes, too,” Kelsey began. “Of course, her outfits have to be things that a Goth would wear, but they apparently won’t be too extreme. Jenna, er, Joelle does like dark color schemes well enough, so she’ll be able to wear her stuff after the show’s done shooting.
“She’s getting one other nice perk. She has an interest in art—drawing and suchlike—and she has some talent. The producers apparently decided to play up that aspect, because she’s going to get some high-powered tutoring on her technique.
“Anyway, I ran into her here at the airport. Turns out we have the same flight. I’m sure the producers would never have done that if they’d known we were acquainted.”
“You know,” Brianna suggested thoughtfully, “to keep ratings up, the producers of these elimination games like to keep the villain and the villain’s main enemy around for as long as possible. It sounds like you’re already slated to be the villain, or a least a villain, but if you and ‘Joelle’ behave like mortal enemies, that might be the best way to insure that you both get deep into the game.”
“We’re way ahead of you,” Kelsey declared with a smirk that Brianna, perforce, was unable to see. “We did a little horse trading with some other passengers so we could sit together on the flight. That will give us a chance to practice a little ‘enemies’ role-playing, not to mention practicing our immersion French.
“Well, gotta run. Our flight just announced pre-boarding. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck, ‘Marilou’. Bye.”
“Marilou Antoinette” did indeed score a date with “Monsieur Guillotine”, after a fashion. It wasn’t a guillotine, exactly, and her head wasn’t the part she lost, but…well, the hair extensions were nice while they lasted. Oh, how she suffered for the Craft.
I sat in the cold of my bedroom. I live in a modern house, my family is normal, except for me.
I am a sad soul, a loner if you will. “Why?” I said.
Me a tall, slender, and beautiful woman, yet I was disliked. “My family, my friends.” I said in a hushed tone.
I had become an outcast; my life had taken a turn. “From happy to sad.” I frowned.
All at once my mind crashed, the color drained from my face. “Oh no.” I looked at the caller I.D. of my ringing phone.
“Hello” I picked up the ringing black and purple phone.
“Hey, Chris Mclean here was calling to let you know that you are now on our show.” The voice of the man known for his sadistic ways said.
“Thanks, I guess.” I said disliking every moment of that conversation.
“Be happy, you wont be like this on the show right?” he said.
“I am being myself. Right?” I was so confused.
“No Rochelle, you are now Sierra a peppy uber fan of the show I sent a guide of every detail of the show.” He said while I was disgusted.
I hung up the phone sad at my new life, then I heard the hard chirp of my mom “Rochelle honey there are twenty-six boxes here from a Chris Mclean.” She continued, but I just toned her out, “Goodbye.”
I removed my lip piercing. My past black hair was now purple. My light skin was now tan. I waved as I walked in to the tunnel leading to the plane soon to take me to Chris’ cronies. “Hey” I said in a high pitch voice that I was had but never used to a tan sad looking guy with a red shirt.
“Hi” he whimpered.
“I am R… Sierra.” I said leaving my past life behind.
The place is a small, run down building in a small town in Nova Scotia, Canada. Painted on the front of the building in faded black letters are the words “Animal Shelter”. Inside, the walls are lined with dozens and dozens of carriers and cages, containing everything from puppies and kittens to lizards and parrots. Some look rather well-off and healthy, while others seem to have been barely rescued from the streets, bone-thin with matted fur.
On an examination table in the center of the room, a tiny, pathetic excuse for a yellow lab puppy, its ribs clearly visible beneath its fur and its left front leg wrapped in a bandage, is being looked over. The man examining it wears a light blue veterinary jacket over a grey t-shirt and worn-out jeans with tears in the knees. He is a clean-shaven man with long, sandy blonde hair tied neatly back in a ponytail and light blue eyes that sparkle with compassion and enthusiasm. “It looks like you’re gonna be okay, little guy,” he assures the puppy in a quiet, soothing voice, gently petting the little creature. As if in thanks, the yellow lab responds with a slight wag of its tail.
Another man, also in a veterinary jacket, enters the room. “How’s that one looking, Jim?” He questions.
“He’s a bit malnourished and dehydrated, plus the injured paw,” the blonde-haired man, Jim, reports. “But it looks like with a little care, he’s going to be fine.”
“Lucky dog,” the second man laughs, patting the creature’s head affectionately. “Y’know, Jim, we’re really lucky to have you volunteering here. You’ve got more experience than the rest of the team combined… we really should pay you.”
“I couldn’t accept money,” Jim insists, scooping up the puppy and returning it to its carrier. “Especially since the shelter’s having so much financial trouble lately… it’s just great to know I can help.”
The second man shakes his head, grinning at his friend’s generosity. “Really, Jim,” he laughs, “the shelter would be lost without you.”
As he closes the door of the carrier, Jim glances away from the other man and bites his bottom lip. “…about that…”
The man raises an eyebrow in concern. “What is it?”
Rubbing his arm awkwardly, Jim turns to his friend. “Remember that show I was telling you about? Well, they kinda… gave me the job.”
The man’s eyes widen. “You’re gonna be on TV? Jim, that’s great!” After a moment, however, realization sets in. “…oh… so you won’t be able to work at the shelter.”
“It’s just for a few months,” Jim explains. “I was gonna turn down the offer, but because they want me for the host role, they’re offering big bucks just for showing up. I did some calculations, and my total paycheck should be more than enough to get the shelter out of its debt, and do some renovations.”
The man’s eyes grow even wider, and his jaw drops. “Jim… you don’t have to do that,” he assures his friend. “I mean, you’re living on bread crumbs as it is. You should use the money on yourself.”
“I couldn’t,” Jim replies, glancing at the various animals around him with a grin. “The shelter’s way more important. I can take care of myself.”
The man sighs and shakes his head. “Jim, you’re too generous for your own good,” he comments. “But congratulations. You must be really excited. I know you really loved acting back in high school; this’ll be your first big break!”
“Well… that’s another thing,” Jim responds, looking away again. “See, they wanted certain manufactured personalities for the show. They want me to act like a generic reality show host- really vain and sadistic and uncaring. And, I mean… that’s really just not me.”
“You kidding? That’s the complete opposite of your personality!” The man retorts. Seeing that this isn’t helping his friend’s spirits, he quickly adds, “but hey, if you’re able to pull it off, that could open a lot of doors for you. I mean, directors like actors who can portray all sorts of different personalities, right?”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Jim admits, a hint of a grin appearing on his face. “But they want me to look different, too. I mean, I have to grow beard stubble, and I have to cut my hair and dye it! I haven’t changed my hair since ninth grade!”
“Actually, it was eight grade, remember?” The other man laughs. Jim chuckles and nods in reply. “Hey, cheer up, it’ll grow back. So, when do you have to leave?”
Jim bites his lip. “Tonight. I’m sorry it’s so short notice, they only told me yesterday that I’d gotten the role.”
“It’s fine. We’ll find a way to survive without you,” the man assures him, patting his friend’s shoulder. “But if you’re leaving tonight, you better head home and get ready, right?” Jim reluctantly nods, taking one last look around the shelter, saying his goodbyes to his animal friends. Just before he walks out the door, his friend approaches him and asks, “Hey, what’s the character you’re playing called, anyways? I want to see how you do in your first big acting gig.”
Jim gives his friend one last grin. “They’re calling me Chris. Chris McClean.”
This chapter is written by: Thebiggesttdifan
"It's something unpredictable,
but in the end it's right,
I hope you have the time of your life."
The last chord from Zac Wilkers' acoustic guitar was followed by a brief millisecond of silence. Then the crowd of nearly thirty thousand erupted into cheers for the sixteen-year-old musician and his shy drummer and bassist. Zac flashed his dazzling teeth, beamed by sunlight, into the stands, only making the crowd clap harder. Zac looked embarrased about all the attention--or maybe it was just his makeup--but he knew the rule that the show must go on, and therefore grabbed the microphone.
"Well, thanks, everybody, for coming," he shouted, his voice partly obstructed by the cheers, "and make sure you tune in to see our next band." Flashing one last embarrased smile, the adolescent pop star picked up his guitar, slipped off the huge stage with his band, and the soundperson flipped on a recording of an old Weezer song.
As Zac headed to the backstage area for performers, he saw one of his grade school buddies, Jon. Jon rushed up to the kid and hugged him. Zac didn't mind the affection.
"Zac," Jon shouted breathlessly, "that was completely amazing! Everything was--the ballad at the end was beautiful, the guitar lines were awesome, and of course the drum solos"--the drummer blushed at this remark, and walked away with the bassist--"were positively AMAZING!"
"Thanks, Jon." Jon held out his Aeropostale T-shirt to be signed, and Zac accepted the job. There was no doubt that Jon was his greatest supporter and fan. He even did so much as to sell some of Zac's CDs in the summertime to little kids.
"So what's the news about that reality show thingy, Zac?" the hopeless fanboy asked curiously. Zac stopped in the middle of writing his last name. His heart sank, and his face must've expressed sadness because Jon looked at him with sympathy and said, "What's wrong, dude?"
"Jon," Zac muttered sadly, "I'm afraid it's not gonna be as easy as we thought. Turns out I'm gonna have to dye my hair, wear new makeup, get contacts...everything I have to do is for the business and the ratings and the channel. It's just like my old record label. All they wanted from me was new fashion, new everything after one little song failed to get on the charts."
"I remember that," Jon said, shivering of memories of tall men in tuxedos yelling on cell phones. "I hope you have fun with it, though."
"I doubt it," Zac muttered. "To make matters worse, I gotta change my personality, too! I have to be some computer geek." He groaned. "I'm sorry, Jon. I was tricked."
"I understand," Jon sighed. "We should hold a going-away party for you, y'know, since you're going to Canada for about two and a half months.
"You won't have the time, I'm afraid," Zac said. "I have to leave tomorrow. I guess this'll be your last sight of Zac Wilkers for a while. They want me to be some kid called--" Zac strained to remember the name. Finally he mumbled something.
"What?" Jon said. "I couldn't really hear you that well. The crowd is obnoxious."
"It's all right. I said"--Zac gritted his teeth, trying not to cry as he said his new name--"Renford. Cody Renford." And from the shock on Jon's face, Zac could tell it was definitely not going to be easy being Cody Renford for the next few months.
At the Le Specialty, a tall, muscular, African man with a soul patch wearing general chef close, stirred the ingredients into a wonderful looking dish.
“Chef Roland?” a blonde haired girl wearing yet another chef suit walked into the kitchen.
“Yes Vendetta?” Roland asked firmly.
“I just got a letter saying that you have been picked to be the famous chef on Total Drama,” Vendetta informed Roland.
“Yea! I’m going Hollywood!” Roland smiled, obviously grieving money he knew he would get.
“Yea, but there’s a catch.” Vendetta said, Roland positioned his bushy unibrow in a questioning way.
“What catch?” he asked.
“Well, first, you have to be Chef Hatchet...” Vendetta began.
“What?” Roland’s jaw dcropped. “I won’t get any credit for the food I cook?”
“Not that you want it, it says here you have to cook horrible disgusting food.” Vendetta had the letter ripped out of her hands by Roland.
“You, Chef Roland, will not mention your Roland name, but instead be Chef Hatchet, a cruel cook who only cooks disgusting food, being paid a haypenny every week?!?!” Roland tore the letter into shreds, I ain’t doing it!”
“But,” Vendetta said. “They said they had you under contract since you tried out. Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Roland said. “I have to pack.”
“But look on this bright side,” Vendetta told Roland. “I have to be a psycho crazy girl, we could battle sometimes!”
“Now that, I like, Venny.” Roland and Vendetta left the restaurant, walking toward what horror awaited them on Total Drama.
Author -- CrystalNeonSummerSnow
" I have to change my name? Really?" Sarah-Grace asked sternly.
" Uhh, yeah, otherwise, you can't be on the show." said the intern.
Sarah-Grace simply rolled her eyes and wrote down "Heather", and also scoffed at the other names. Crystal calling herself Gwen and Tammy calling herself LeShawna? Great, goth and ghetto have to be on the show, too, she thought furiously. But the one thing that got her extremely enraged was one name that wasn't on the list.
" Hey, what about Robert? Isn't he suppose to be on the audition list?"
" No, sorry, only 33 people can audition and by the time you signed up, he couldn't fit his name on the list."
She frowned and walked away.
Not only did she have to be "Heather", she had to be a witch that everyone hated and she hated them, too. She wasn't mean to everyone, just Crystal and Tammy; goth and ghetto just doesn't do it for her.
She was actually a pretty kind soul; she got along with her family (even Damien), but now they had to pretend they didn't miss her... how sad.
Plus, Charlotte and July (Lindsay and Beth) were her BFFs, and now they have to be her "allies" that she'll eliminate.
But the worst was who won't be on the show....
" Hello again, Angel." Robert sighed.
" I'm real sorry that you won't be on the show."
" Oh, it's alright. I'll probably get a chance when the third season comes around; they said newbies get a chance to come on the show."
" Awesome. So, what character do you want to be?"
" Alejandro, a guy who's only romantic just to win."
" Perfect. Evil plus wicked will totally equal love."
" But just remember, no matter how long it takes or how many girls I might use, you'll always be my love."
Before kissing him, Sarah-Grace smiled and cooed,
" I love you too, darling."
With her eyes wide open, and can't even sleep, Grace's alarm clock was saying in big red letters, '1:27 a.m.'.
"UGH! I can't take this anymore!" Grace said, as she went into her mother's, the dentist, office, and grabbed sleeping gas. She brought it to her room, and said "This outta do it." The sleeping gas put her sound asleep.
Her mother awoke, "What is that smell?"
Her father, the business-man, said '"I don't know. It could be G—." He fell asleep, due to the gas.
"Uggh...," her mother said, as she stepped into Grace's room. As she turned on the lights, she found her sleeping gas on Grace's bed. She grabbed it, sheepishly grinned at Grace, turned off the lights, and left.
As she closed the door, some dude came into her window. He shook Grace awake, "Graaaaace!?"
Grace awoke. "Wha—," Grace's eyes were wide open, "Who are you!?" Grace panicked.
"An intern from Total Drama," said the intern.
"What do you want?" asked Grace.
"I'm here to tell you that you've been accepted to our show," the intern smiled.
"You couldn't use—oh, I don't know—a mailbox?" Grace sighed.
"The host is too cheap," the intern looked both ways, "don't tell him I said that." Grace nodded. "Now, wear this fat suit in a mon—."
"Woah, woah, woah. Hold your horses," Grace said. "A fat suit?"
"Yes, this dude named 'Owen'—which is you, in a month, by the way—is like ratings TNT! Now, where this suit in a month, and you go by Owen." The intern finished.
"You couldn't have made a boy be Owen?" Grace sighed.
"Sorry," the intern said. "No, not really. Now, if you don't where that fat suit in a month, and don't go by 'Owen', you'll be sued." Grace sighed. "Now go to bed." The intern climbed out of the window.
"At least my dream of being on TV is sort of coming true," Grace sighed.
Author -- CrystalNeonSummerSnow
Staring at the sing-up sheet, Layla was reluctant.
She had to change her name? And her personalitly?
Well, the opposite of her personalitly would probably be a crazy, free-spirited, orange-haired phsyco hose beast. You see, the reason that it would be opposite is because Layla was actually quiet, sane, and a follower.
She wouldn't really be called a phsyco 'cause she hates horror movies, she thought Jarred (Owen) was a complete waste of her time, and her hair was cropped and jet black instead of wild orange morning hair.
But she figured that maybe with a wig and acting lessons, she could bring the ratings up and maybe even win.
" Hey, lady! Hurry up and sign the sheet already, there are people who want to audition too!"
She simply nodded and wrote her cursive name. As she passed by obese Jarred trying to be clean till the camera rolls, Layla squeaked to herself,
" I bet he'll be just as annoying as he is now."
This chapter is brought to you by: Thebiggesttdifan
Fifteen children and teens are seated at a rectangular table in a small well underground. A thirtysomething adult is standing at the head of the table, pacing around. “All right!” the adult shouts. “Let us begin the weekly meeting of the How to Make TV Personality’s Lives Miserable Convention!” He hits the head of the table with a yardstick. “Continuing from our last discussion Brian has been sent off to the Survivor Auditions to pose as a man named Russell Hantz. He’s in the audition process now. Anyway, I have a suggestion for a new mission. This one will involve Jessica.” A chorus of whining fills the well. “Children, you’ll get your turn next time.”
The man produces a laptop and sets it on the head of the table, projecting it at the front of the room so that everyone can see. “Now, Jessica, we’ve discovered a teenager who attempts to be extremely flirty. He fails to seduce the females on his show, often annoying them to no end, and we feel he needs…a lesson learned.”
Jessica smirks. “I love teaching lessons to the evil!”
“This teenager, despite failing at his antics to impress people who he is attracted to, is very popular amongst fans…especially female fans. We want you to disguise as an extremely obsessed fangirl of this teenager to give him a taste of his own medicine.” The man grins evilly. “I’ll present you a video of this teen’s antics, just so you can be properly informed of him and the show he’s on just like any fangirl.” He types into the laptop and a video of a brown-haired man with shades dancing in a blue suit in a prison yard. Music begins to play.
Jessica winces. “Oh, yuck! I have to fall in love with some creepy singer dude?” She screams. “NOOOO! You can forget about this! I wouldn’t do this for a batrillion dollars!” She begins to run out.
“Aw, crap, I got rickrolled again!” the man complains. “Third time this week. Anyway, forget the video.” He puts the laptop in his pocket. “All right, Jessica. I know you don’t like jobs that revolve around infatuation, and I know you hate technology and the Internet, but you’re the only one off-the-wall enough to be capable to do this. But trust me, you will not have to fall in love with a creepy singer dude.” Jessica sits back in her seat. “All right, everyone, no homework this week.” The fifteen children erupt into cheers. “Just use the Antagonist Generator every night and you’ll be fine. And of course, message me if you have any ideas. Oh, and Jessica?”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“Because we can’t face the risk of getting caught with this, you’ll have to change your name and get a bit of a makeover.”
“Is my name gonna be a good one or a crappy one?”
“Your pick. I’ve talked to the other adults, and they’ve agreed that the perfect name for you would be Sierra.”
Chapter Thirty-One: Desperate Measures
Rebecca McAllister, special agent of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, needed a change. Her once-promising career with the RCMP—indeed, pretty much her whole life—was collapsing into ruin.
After graduating from the Police Academy, Rebecca had quickly gained a reputation as a rising star on the force. Specializing in undercover work, and with a youthful look, she had spent most of her career in Canada’s high schools. There she made a name for herself among the RCMP brass by posing as a student to expose school-based drug rings, fencing operations, and the like.
Because she could not carry weapons on these assignments without tipping her hand, she had trained extensively in unarmed combat techniques. She could hold her own against—even get the better of, on a good day—a less-trained man thrice her size.
With Becky now pushing 30, her days of looking young enough to pass as a teenager were drawing to a close. Soon, she would be doing other work for the force—if she could get it, for her past was catching up to her. Her ancestry, to be precise.
When she was growing up, and even through her Academy days, Becky had seemed normal enough, and she had high hopes that she would be spared the mental instability that had plagued her parents’ lines since time immemorial. In recent years, however, she had seen increasingly persistent signs that this was not to be. First, she had developed a motormouth habit, and was increasingly inclined to ramble at breakneck speed and excruciating length on matters only tangentially related to the subject at hand. That quirk, while annoying, was harmless enough. More disturbing was her emerging pyromania.
Becky had always been attracted to fire, but for many years her pyrophilia had caused no serious problems. In recent years, however, it had been morphing into something worse, and her ability to function normally when fire was involved was becoming increasingly shaky. She was also becoming schizophrenic, and it didn’t help that her emerging alternate personality was even more pyrophilic than her primary—not merely attracted to fire and blast, but preoccupied with them.
Becky’s deterioration had led to an unfortunate accident at a Marine base that she had been touring as part of an excursion group. That mishap, which only by sheer luck hadn’t killed or maimed anyone, had led to her current “vacation”. Her higher-ups in the RCMP had placed her on administrative leave whilst they investigated the incident.
The results of the investigation wouldn’t be known for several weeks yet, but Becky could guess the outcome: she would be dismissed from the force, probably with criminal charges into the bargain. Granted, she could probably beat any charges with an insanity defense, but that might be “a cure worse than the disease”.
To make matters worse, that wasn’t likely to be her biggest problem. Her mental deterioration was in that terrifying stage where she could see what was happening and where it was leading, but she was not yet so far gone that she had ceased to care. She was already becoming a danger to others, and it might not be long before she became a danger to herself as well. Nor could she see any way to stop her descent into the abyss, for she had tried both psychotherapy and medication, and neither had been effective.
Desperate times, she decided, called for desperate measures.
Despite her growing instability, she was undeniably brilliant, and she had devised a plan. Sadly, carrying it out meant that she would have to turn her back on everything she had ever known. Her home, her family, her friends, her cats—everything.
That would be hardest on her fiancé. She had accepted Hank’s engagement ring only ten days ago, after she had already begun to implement her plan. She felt terrible that she was, in effect, stealing that expensive diamond ring, but there was no help for it. She did not dare tell Hank anything about her plan or behave in any way differently than she normally would, and that meant accepting his marriage proposal when he made it. When she was reported missing and the RCMP investigated her disappearance, everything had to look like she had expected to return soon.
Her plan consisted of three parts. The first part, preparing a new identity, was already taken care of. She had submitted an audition tape for a new reality TV show to be produced that summer. The start date was now barely a month off, and Rebecca was reasonably certain that pawning her ring would raise enough cash to cover basic living expenses until then. The contestants were supposed to be 16 years old, and Rebecca was 28, but she didn’t see that as an obstacle. She would pose as a teenager one last time.
When Becky was preparing her application for the show, she had pondered the question of what to call herself. Obviously, it wouldn’t do to use her real name, if for no other reason than because a routine background check would quickly reveal that she wasn’t a teenager.
She finally decided on the Purloined Letter principle: hiding in plain sight. If the RCMP ever came to realize that she had assumed a new identity, it would expect her, in light of her undercover skills, to adopt an elaborate, meticulously disguised alter ego. She would therefore do something much simpler to throw them off the scent. She would go by the codename that the RCMP had given her for her undercover work. So it was that Capt. Rebecca McAllister, a.k.a. Agent Izzy, set the wheels in motion to become a reality TV star.
Likewise, she would make only simple alterations to her appearance. Changing the style and color of her hair should do. Her hair was long, but she normally wore it in a bun, so people did not tend to think of her as a longhaired woman. When the time was right, she would color her dishwater blonde hair a Scotch orange—the color of fire—to match the wig she’d had the foresight to wear for her audition tape.
In addition to her undercover skills, Rebecca had talents that even the RCMP did not suspect. Most importantly to her current situation, she was a hacker of no small ability. It turned out that the studio that would be producing the show was not particularly security-conscious; so after the studio had received her audition tape, it was a simple matter for her to hack into the studio’s network. Once in, Becky altered certain company records to insure that her application would be accepted.
The second part was also done, expedited by another judicious hack into another low-security, non-sensitive system. Under an assumed name, Becky had applied for, and been granted, a homestead permit in a remote and heavily forested corner of the Northwest Territories. When all else was done, and she had rebuilt her finances with the aid of the media fame that would soon be hers, she would retire to that bolthole. There, she could burn things to her heart’s content with reasonable assurance that she wouldn’t endanger others—until the day when, whether by accident or by design, she inevitably perished by her own Promethian hand. Ah, well, she thought, better that than spending her life in a padded room, which seemed the only realistic alternative.
In the third phase of her plan, she would die. Apparently.
This was the trickiest part of the plan. Given her proclivities and the need for the body to be unidentifiable, fire seemed the logical choice. She would check into a bed-and-breakfast place where she occasionally went for weekend getaways, sometimes with Hank and sometimes alone. In this case, she had chosen a weekend where Hank had other commitments, so he had agreed to look after her cats—named Eve and Noah, after figures from the Book of Genesis—whilst she was gone.
When Becky checked into the B&B, she would pay with a credit card to leave a paper trail. On the second night of her stay, she would cause a gas leak, which she hoped would induce the proprietor and any other guests to evacuate, and then the place would burn to the ground. She would flee the scene on foot, leaving her car behind as evidence that she had been present on the night of the fire.
There had to be human remains, so her first stop had been the local medical school. Several nights before, she had broken into the school’s storage and stolen a cadaver—an unknown woman of roughly Becky’s height and build. Becky had stashed the body in a place where it wasn’t likely to be stumbled upon before she needed it.
When it came time to “die”, Becky would use a trick she knew that would not only ignite the gas fire, but would also amp up the fire around the cadaver to the level of a commercial crematorium. That would be enough to incinerate bones and even teeth, so a dental records check—the usual method of identifying a badly burned body—would not expose the deception. Nor would a DNA check do so, because any mismatches (if there was even enough DNA left to analyze) would be ascribed to damage from the fire. The investigators would conclude that she had been asleep in her bed, that she had been kept asleep by either the gas or the carbon monoxide, and that she had known nothing but peace.
The sun was setting on the last day of Rebecca McAllister’s life as she had known it. As she sat in her rocking chair, going over the details of her impending “death” one more time, Noah came into the room.
Noah, so named because Becky had found him clinging to a piece of driftwood after the creek flooded a few years ago, had the curious habit of sucking on people’s earlobes. Now, Becky found her contemplation rudely interrupted as the large Russian Blue jumped onto her and sought his “pacifier”.
As Noah sucked away, purring loudly, the finality of what Becky was about to do struck her as if for the first time. She clutched Noah to her and wept.
When Becky was herself again, darkness had fallen, and it was time to fetch her cadaver. With a heavy heart, but with fresh resolve, Agent Izzy of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police exited her apartment, locked the door, and left her old life behind without a backward glance.
- The trick for producing a crematorium-scale fire has been used by murderers to dispose of their victims’ bodies, and has been suggested as a possible explanation for certain deaths that some people have ascribed to “spontaneous human combustion”.
- Noah’s habit of sucking earlobes is based on a cat the author had as a child. The name was not intended as a reference to the infamous NoCo scene in TDI episode #3, “The Big Sleep”, although it certainly fits. The intended reference of naming Becky’s cats “Eve” and “Noah” was actually to Izzy’s teammates in TDDDDI—Eva and Noah.
- This vignette expands upon on an idea originally conceived for The Legend of Total Drama Island.
Calum ran down Sublane Street for the third time today. He hoped of getting into the provincial tournament for track. But ever since the man called, he didn't think he'd have much time.
The man had called two days ago. He was told he'll be in a reality show for teens. "Oh, cool!" was his reply. "One by one, they'll all go down," he said enthusiastically.
"Not so fast," said the man. "You'll have to pretend to be someone else for the show."
"So... no antagonist runner," said Calum, as he rubbed his black hair.
"No way. What colour is your hair?" asked the man.
"Um... black," Calum cautiously replied.
"No can do, you'll have to dye it brown," said the man. "You'll play a nerd who has 'skills'. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah! My tinted sunglasses will work, right?" said Calum.
"Sure," the man said. He then prepared Calum a little more before hanging up.
Calum decided that this run, he'll go to the store, and buy some hair dye, then go back home. "If I'm running over there, no need to run two more laps," guessed Calum.
At the store, he reached for the brown hair dye. He froze, and looked at another dye container. Picking it up, he said "I think orange hair is better for a Harold."
"Alright kids," Ms. Crystal said to her Kindergarten class. "Summer starts next month, so it time for our final show-n'-tell."
Jeremy beamed out of his seat on the floor and picked his nose, "You see this booger? It looks like Santa."
"Thank you, Jeremy," Ms. Crystal sarcastically said. "Anyone else?"
"I would, Ms. Crystal," Rebecca said, while holding a certificate.
"Where you accepted into college?" Jamie asked.
"Did you become a lawyer?" Butch asked.
"Did you get find the booger monster?" Joey asked.
"Did you become the president?" Samantha asked.
"Rebecca, please tell us what that certificate is for," Ms. Crystal said.
"Sure thing," Rebecca said. "I've been accepted into a reality show this Summer!! Eeeee!!"
"Which one? Survivor?" Jay asked.
"No, Total Drama. I'm competing for one-hundred-thousand dollars!!" Rebecca stated.
"Rebecca, may I see that certificate?" Ms. Crystal asked, as Rebecca handed her the document. "It says in small words: 'You will have to be a really dumb person named Lindsay. We will send you her outfit, and hair dye next week.'"
Rebecca took the certificate back, "What!?!? No! I thought I was gonna be on TV!" Rebecca started crying.
"Well, you sort of are. You're just playing a character," Ms. Crystal said.
"It's still not me!" Rebecca said.
"Don't worry, Rebecca," Ms. Crystal said. "You're still on TV." Ms. Crystal and Rebecca smiled.
Chapter Thirty Four
Written By: Reddude
Melanie Daniels walked through the halls of the Science Hall, a famous museum of scientific discoveries in Toronto, Canada. She went through a door labeled “Lab 6” and quietly shut the door. Scientists were scattered about, testing DNA samples and whatnot. A body frame was seen under a white sheet on an experimental table. Melanie wasn’t a high ranking official in the hall, but she knew enough about the project to not be completely confused.
Melanie strutted over to her partner, Paul Richardson’s work area. “Are the tests all positive?”
“Well,” Paul began, “We’ve got enough of a pulse to sustain minimum life, about five minutes off the charger.”
Melanie nodded, her stern expression not changing at all. The lab was on the verge of a truly dramatic breakthrough in Science, but the head of the operation had warned all crew members to not get their hopes up.
“You know,” Paul turned to face Melanie, “If this works, we’d all get paid fifty thousand dollars each for our efforts. Didn’t I hear you talking about visiting Hollywood sometime?”
Melanie’s eyes widened at Paul’s statement. Was Paul, the person no one would dare ask out in high school, flirting with her? “Yes. But, I have more important matters before that takes place.”
“Like what?” Paul asked.
“Code H! Code H!” Some one exclaimed before Melanie could reply. They both rushed over to the rest of the scientists as a flexi glass wall came down between them and the experimental table.
“Go for it.” The head of the operation (HOP) signaled the person as the controls. The controller nodded and flipped a green switch.
Suddenly, a surge of electricity shot down to the table. The scientists looked on in desperation as the table remained motionless. The body under the frame sat up on the table, revealing a scrawny, shirtless boy with auburn hair. He sat their, not saying or doing anything.
“Order it to stand and wave to us.” HOP ordered the controller. The controller nodded and spoke into the microphone.
“Stand and wave.”
The boy on the table stood and waved in the direction of the scientists.
“Speak.” The controller ordered after direction from HOP.
“L-l-life…” the teen slowly uttered. The flexi glass wall rolled up and the group all cheered.
“We’ve done it!” HOP exclaimed, “We have created artificial life! A fake soul!”
Three months later, Melanie was in a secure chamber with the scrawny artificial boy. The hall had dubbed the teen Harold, short for Heroically Artificial Ranger Of Life Daily. Melanie had been assigned to teach Harold how to act normally in society.
“Great work Harold!” Melanie complimented Harold as he received an A+ on the algebra test she had given him.
“Thanks, Mel.” Harold said in a deep voice.
“I think you’re finally ready!” Melanie smiles as HOP walks in.
“Miss Melanie, a word please.” HOP said. Melanie nodded and followed HOP out of the camber.
“Yes?” Melanie asked.
“You know Total Drama Island?” HOP asked.
“Oh! That premieres in like three months!” Melanie exclaimed estatically. She had a fondness for reality shows.
“Well, they are looking for people to play fake character roles,” HOP said, “And they were wondering, since Harold is artificial, if they could use him.”
“Why are you asking me this? You’re the head official!” Melanie playfully teased.
“I guess your right…” HOP and Melanie both glanced at Harold, one last time…
Harold went on to become infamous for rigging Courtney in Total Drama Island, placing fifth in Total Drama Action (ironically in the space episode), and quitting in Total Drama World Tour. Canada was truly fond of their creation, and the hall went on to winning the peace award later that year…
Chapter Thirty Five
Danny Delorrel stepped into the Toronto Casino one cold winter night. He had a bundle of money in one of his hands, and a pack of cards in the other. He sat at a table with another man. It was just the two of them.
“Welcome,” the other man extended his hand to Danny. Danny ignored this.
“What’s the bet?” Danny asked.
“Wow, you get engaged into these things fast,” the man said, “But before that, the name’s McLean. Chris McLean.”
“Delorrel, and that’s all you need to know.” Danny said the the man, who pulled out a few sheets of paper from his coat. “What are those?”
“Papers for a contract,” Chris replied, “You lose, you sign them, and I get your anti.”
“What are they for?”
“You won’t know until and if you lose.” Chris said.
“That’s crazy talk. You expect me to take the chance?”
“You take chances all the time. And from word on the street, I hear you’re pretty good.”
“Fine…” Danny laid down his stack of money and cards. “If I win, I get your anti and you have to stay away from this casino.”
“Fair enough.” Chris smirked.
The two started playing their little gamble. It went on for hours over hours, until Danny realized his defeat.
“What? I never lose…” Danny said quietly. Chris harshly swiped Danny’s anti and held out the contract, which Danny reluctantly signed. “Now what the hells is this for?”
“Delorrel, forget that name. You’re going to be one of the actors for Total Drama Island.” Chris grinned evilly.
“What? No way!” Danny screamed.
“Too late. You have to, or else you’ll end up in a legal battle you can’t win…”
Danny sighed, and from the moment forward, he would forever be seen as Cody of Total Drama. In the first season he got mauled by a bear because of Chris and his conflict, and in season three Danny was the lucky recipient of a crazed stalker for his character.
Chapter Thirty Six
Author: Iml908 00:05, October 24, 2010 (UTC)
A brown haired woman walks into an orphanage and is greeted by several kids
"Rachel!!!!!" said some orphans
"Hello my little kids" said Rachel sadly
"Whats wrong?" said Jeff the orphan
"Remember the reality show I told you guys about" said Rachel
"Oh yeah, wasent it called Total Drama" said Kaitlen the orphan
"Yes, I got on, but I have to leave you kids" said Rachel
"Thats ok, we will try and live, afterall you are only a volonteer" said Jeff
"Yes, but they want me to be some some sort of blonde diva named Blaineley" said Rachel
"Oh well, atleast you will be having fun" said Kaitlen
Rachel goes home to be greeted by her husband, Josh
"Hay Rach... I mean Blaineley" said Josh
"Hey Josh, im ready to pack" said Rachel
"I love you" said Josh
"Goodbye honey" said Rachel
I wait in line to get my new application. I think to myself, this is totally worth it.
After all, I needed the cash. If not, my mom would send my brother and I to a foster home. She just couldn't take care of us anymore. Then she herself would have to move. To an unknown place, she had told me. But she said she will visit me again if we did move, and she hoped I was happy with my foster parents.
There is no way I wanted foster parents. I was desperate to stay with my mom until I moved. I cried about it, despite the fact that I hate crying about anything. Then my mom told me there was one possibility. The she went online for a really long time, say thirty minutes. I tried to figure out what she was doing.
When she finished, she handed over four sheets of paper. There is no way a good job could get us out of the poverty we're almost living, she said. But this is a really easy one. It's close to where we live, and there is a thirty percent chance you may get $800,000 in cash for one year with this guy.
I went upstairs to what was left of my room. I sat on my bed and read over the four sheets of paper. This guy named Chris McClean wanted me to work as a cameraman. I was excited for a moment. I am really good at using a camera, even got to be president of the yearbook club back in school. I paused over the next couple sentences, though.
This Chris guy said I needed to change a couple things about my appearance and the way I act. I first thought to myself, who the world would want to do that?
First of all, the sheet said I'd needed to be abnormally wide so I can be 'appealing' to the people watching the show I'm on. I remembered at my own weight, 150. I had to be at least a 200 to be part of the staff. How was I going to do that? Eat McDonald's every day? Our family can barely afford gum! I'd read on. The sheet said I should be eating McDonald's every day. Go figure.
Second of all, the sheet said I should have compassion for animals, butterflies, that kind of stuff. That took a lot to get used to. I'd ripped grass, stomped on butterflies, and shot animals with rubber bands with jealousy that they don't get put in a foster home. As soon as I'd read that, there was a grasshopper on the creaked ceiling on my head. I'd shot a rubber band at it, but missed. I'd decided to leave it alone.
As I read on through this mini-packet, this Chris guy listed a whole lot of other things I had to change in order to be a part of this new reality show. My favorite color needed to be red, though I like black the best. I had to like wearing a backwards cap. And I had to have a short temper on humans. That one would be easy. But most crucial of all, I had to change my name. From Miles to Bozo. I'd shuddered.
But most important of all, was the prize. Eight hundered thousand dollars if I did everything right. I could've listed how vital that would be to my family's life. We would be able to afford furniture and groceries without going into more debt. I would be able to quit my five jobs and go back to school. I would be able to stay with my mom and brother and not get dumped in a foster home.
It was completely worth it. I'd finished reading, went over to my mom and agreed. And for that last month, me, Bozo, had practiced everything those sheet told me to do.
And I wait in line to get my new application.
Author -- CrystalNeonSummerSnow
I rolled my eyes as I passed by the Total Drama convention.
Who care about fandom? All it is is just a bunch of lifeless monsters who fanasize over stuck-up losers. The only thing that made me step in the building was because my BFF Willow was in there.
It's hard to see a girl like me in a fan club convention 'cause I'm mostly known as an emo, but intelligent Gothic. While the other girls would wear heels and tube dresses, what I wear is casually a plaid mini skirt with a studded belt, torn-up stockings, lacey longsleeves, platinum blonde and flame red highlights in my jet black hair, and a lip and eyebrow piercing.
Some people even thought I was Avril Lavigne. "Suck it" was all I responded with.
" Hey Madline!" Willow greeted happily. For a spunky, R&B-loving social butterfly, she understands me a little.
" Whatcha been doin', lately?"
" Y'know, the usual. Watching macabre theater and listening to Evanescence. Lemme guess, you've been watching Jersey Shore and listening to Justin Bieber?"
" Am I that predictable?" she joked. I sipped some of my soda and saw a clipboard on the table.
" What's this?"
" A sign up sheet for the 3rd season of Total Drama. Bradley signed up." she teased. I absolutely loathed him, just because he was more popular that me.
" Well, then why did he write 'Cody'?"
" Oh, well, here's the catch: you have to fake your name and your personality." I rolled my eyes and smirked. I remembered her trying to audition as Jasemine, but with no avail, obviously. My mind went blank when I tried to think of a name, but Willow stared at my soda can and snapped her fingers.
" I got it! How 'bout Sierra? Minus the Mist and you'll be good to go."
I laughed. Good thing I didn't have a Coke with me. The personality wasn't hard to come up with. Since I hate fandom from deviantART to fanfiction, I thought that maybe I could be an obsessive fan girl that's, dare I say it, hopelessly in love with Bradley, I mean, Cody.
" Now, all you probably need is a purple wig, loose the lip piercing for some lip gloss, and this outfit here."
" I said I wanted to be a fan girl, not Nicki Minaj."
We laughed for a moment, then I signed the paper with purple ink, took the material in order to become Sierra, thanked my friend, and headed home, practicing my obsessive giggle.
Author -- Izzynsierrafan12
I walked out of my room and switched on the tv.
"Jayden, Come here!" her mom called.
She sighed and walked over to her mothers room slouching.
"Yes?" she answered.
"Come with me and stop being so lazy!" she said.
Jayden, rubbed her back and followed her mom to her black car.
"Now get in" she said to her.
Jayden obeyed her and got into the car putting on the seatbelt.
"Is you seatbelt one Jayden?" her mother asked.
She nodded as her mother reversed out of the driveway.
"Where are we going?" Jayden asked in curiosity.
"Signing you up for the third season of Total Drama!" she answered.
"Do have to sign up for the stupid name of Izzy and act all crazy?"
"But come one! Izzy is a sucky name!"
"No it is not. It is a beautiful name with a lovely meaning!"
"Well what is that?"
Chapter Forty: Sin Never Dies
There is some language or violence that may not be appropriate for people under thirteen years of age.
A/N: You know the deal -- I don't own TDI, I'm not making money off of this, and there's nothing said about Bridgette that's in vain. Okay, thanks!
Warning: Contains disturbing past including child abuse, alcoholism, and moderate violence.
Sin never dies.
I knew of that well as the snow fell in steady streams, only burning my skin more. What burned my skin was the irony that I prayed would never be mine. Never did I even think that there'd be a day when I'd actually kill my own mother. That only made me gnaw into the pink flesh of my lips more, blood staining my front teeth.
Confused? Well, maybe you need a little background.
The terror started when I was born. Being a daughter that was only conceived from rape, Mother didn't think highly of me. She even thought I was a product of Satan, explaining why she made the haunting scars on my arms and back. She'd use whatever she wanted from an empty beer bottle or a broken leg from the coffee table to chastise me. Booze always hung heavy in her voice as she scolded me to no end. I'd try my best not to cry; that would only make her hit harder.
At night, my bedroom door would never be opened. Mother never tucked me to bed; she didn't need to. The last thing I needed to put me to sleep was another object or fist connecting to my face. In those nights, while I was tending to my still bleeding wounds, I heard her crying, as if she was reliving the awful moment again. Hearing those shirll sounds made cringe at the thought of some sleazy man taking the old woman's soul with every thrust. That nightmare would always become mine as I drifted away from the world that was made of only prejudice.
One day, out of all the days, it was a quite Friday morning. I didn't find anything wrong with Fridays since those were the only days I never had my hair yanked once. Mother sat their in the kitchen as usual, dressed in an ugly pink sundress and clutching a tequila bottle in her hand. I never talked to her on Fridays; those were the days I'd just spend my time by reading my favorite poems. However, I heard glass shatter in the kitchen. A shiver darted down my spine. Whatever was going on in there, it wasn't pretty. Perhaps that was why I didn't miss the opportunity to go downstairs and see what was happening.
A man fell to his knees in the kitchen, thrown into a fit of coughing as I stared at the mangled flesh of his neck. Some blood leaked out, and that wasn't surprising considering Mother had the claws of a cat. She glared down at him, readying herself to strike at him again. I knew from the look in her eyes that this wasn't a moderate beating; this was beating him to death. While I never saw the man before, I couldn't help but defend him. I grabbed her arm and threw her into the living room. Surprisingly, the blow to the floor had injured her more that I had hoped. An ugly green bruise marked her head as she staggered while trying to get up. She looked upon me in shock as I did to her. I never had the intention to hurt her before. Well, apparently, that angered her since I was disowned that day, too. The man took me home and that Friday in the rainy month called April, I was actually treated with love and care.
However, before tucking me to bed, the man that I accidentally called Father sat on one side of the bed. Judging by the sad look in his eye, a very emotional story was coming up soon. I nodded, readying myself in case I would start crying. I was always such a softie when it came to these sad tales. However, in the irony that I never thought would be mine, everything stopped once he said it.
Father was the man that raped Mother.
It was very surprising since he seemed far too nice to be a rapist. Well, luckily, he wasn't. With tears in his eyes, he said that the power of alcohol took over his mind again while common sense flew out the window. Even before he said that, I knew he was an alcoholic considering that I could smell the Jack Whiskey in his breath. He continued on reluctantly, saying that he came to my house to apologize. How he could find our house, I never bothered to ask, but what did matter was that I finally had a parent with a heart that beated for me. For once, I actually felt like a daughter; for once, I actually felt... loved.
Sadly, that fate wasn't mine or Father's as I heard that familiar voice in the middle of the night. Glass shattered; screams rang out louder than gunfire. Mother hissed such profanity towards Father's lifeless body. A tear finally one it's freedom to escape. A tear hadn't escaped in 15 years, and that made that contorted grin disappear. She took me into her arms and said she'd forgiven me. While I was crying quite pathetically, I noticed she left the knife unattended. While I never had anyone else guide me through life longer than her, I had had enough. Grabbing the hilt reluctantly, the knife plunged into Mother's back. Her breath stopped, she fell to the floor as the warm blood stained her dress. Soon all those years showed themselves to me again. All those years of bruises and misery that were mine had finally payed off as the knife kept raking away her dress and flesh, being pulled out with no such gentle force. I stared at Mother, her fate attained in blood. Only one last sentence dripped out, her icy blue eyes staring at me fiercly before fading away.
"Sin never dies."
Now there I was, sitting underneath a tree in the usually deserted park, downpours of frozen terror blissfully covering the grass. I could still taste blood, whether it was Mother's blood that stained my hollowed cheeks or my blood from gnawing my lip too much. The pale hazel in my eyes sparkled from held-back tears. My choppy brown hair billowed in the wind's direction as I cried. I was all alone, no one to save me or hold me. I was alone, and I deserved it.
That was until my iPhone rang. When I picked up, a deep voice came through the speakers.
"Vera? Vera Swanson, is that you?" I replied with a faint 'yes'. A chuckle came from him, as if he was staring at the newspaper that had a picture of my parents' bloodied corpses on the front cover. It turned out that he was as he repeated some of the quotes.
"While we may never know who killed these innocent people..." his voice trailed off into an obnoxious chuckle. I rolled my eyes.
"We never knew you had it in you."
"What do you want already?!" I barked angrily. My eyes widened at what I said. I've never been one to yell before. A response didn't come instantly, almost as if he was ready to hang up. My angered silence dared him to continue, and that he did.
"You don't even know who you're talking to, do you? It's me, Chris McLean, the guy you met in the interview." My eyebrows went up in shock. I had completely forgotten that I auditioned for Total Drama. Yet, with the way he was acting towards this whole fiasco, I almost wished I didn't audition. Drumming my nails on my knee, I then replied before he could.
"Did I get the part?"
"To be honest, I almost didn't want to pick you. No offense, sweetheart, but the quiet ones like you aren't ones to bring on the drama well enough. But when I read the paper today, I knew instantly I would've been screwed not to let you on the show."
An awkward nod came from me. Who knew that one brutal act could get you landed in the spotlight?
"D'you remember the rule from auditioning?"
"Yes, Chris," I said, too surprised to be annoyed, "I remember. I have to fake my name and personality. Hmm, how about Bridgette?"
"Perfect. That's the name for happy people, which apparently you're not," he cracked up laughing as I gritted my teeth. Fighting with him wouldn't be worth it; not if I was going to become a TV star. The last thing he told me was the catch a bus to Toronto and meem him at the McLean Inn, a hotel named after him. Figures.
I stared down at my phone as we hung up. This was it. Soon, I was going to be living my dream and best of all, I could change my looks. Maybe with a blonde wig and some surfer-like clothing to hide my scars, I'll be the perfect Bridgette. The only downside is that I'll probably have to be a bit naive, but that never mattered to me. What mattered was that the proud name Vera Swanson would never be my name again; just Bridgette. Yet, as the bus soon came arond the corner, this little fact was a fact I could never get rid of.
Sin never dies.
I walked down the street with my best friends Chase and Bianca by my side, “Hey guys…” I started not knowing how to say it.
“Yeah Brock?” Bianca asked worried.
“You know the game show or whatever I signed up for, like a year ago…” I continued.
Chase looked at me oddly, “You didn’t.”
“I got recruited, even after I sent in a removal of entry,” I said.
“You should fight this, you can't just sit there and be taken by a show that wants you to become some half-wit,” Bianca said as we stopped in front of my house.
“Your right but, they said if I don’t I will be thrown in jail, my family will be living on the streets,” I said knowing it was true.
“So, if you have to do this…” Chase started, “Who will you be?”
“According to the ‘Character Motion Draft’ I will be playing some eye candy background character named Justin,” I never really thought I looked good to be true.
“Well I guess we won’t see you at school tomorrow,” Chase said.
“Plane leaves tonight,” I said.
Bianca gave me a kiss on the cheek and Chase gave me a bear hug, “Have as much fun as possible.”
I began walking to my front door, “See ya,” I yelled back to them, even though I questioned if I would see them again…
Chapter Forty-Two (42)
-- from JERealize
Two teenagers, both male, were sitting on a large enough rock settled within a mountain range. One was clearly an endomorph (wide-bodied, for those who don't know their vocabulary), the other an exomorph (skinny-bodied), and both eyed an aircraft flying miles above them.
"So, Beverly," the exomorph said as he saw the aircraft slowly pass by, "I'm going to miss you while you're gone. We always had good adventures while we were together, so I don't know how I'm going to pass the time." He turned his head towards Beverly. "How long would you be gone?"
"Don't know," Beverly stated. "They say, it depends on what they can do for my character."
"Remember, they day that they'll allow you to develop your own character before shooting," the first person reminded Beverly. "Honestly, I don't think anyone will take you seriously under your current name."
"What's wrong with it?" Beverly shrugged.
"Seriously?" the first person remarked. "People may give you respect here because of the projects you undertake, but no one will know you in Muskoka. You'll get mocked right out of the competition."
"Now, that's a bit of an exaggeration, Liam," Beverly added. "It may not sound manly, but it's not downright girly."
"Trust me on this," Liam commented. "When you're over there, get them to change your name, just enough so people can tolerate you."
Beverly chuckled. "Anything else?" he suggested lightly.
"I heard about this television show on one of those cable channels," Liam explained, "and there was this kid who partnered with his brother to make all kinds of contraptions."
"Oh, come on," Beverly remarked, "you actually watch that stuff?"
"I swear, I only heard of it," Liam assured. "Anyway, they say he doesn't talk much, but makes up for it with everything else he does. That got me thinking. Try not to talk much. That way, you don't say the wrong thing."
"Liam," Beverly began. "I know you're trying to look out for me, and you have the right intentions, but I don't know? A vow of silence?"
"It doesn't have to be a vow," Liam added. "Just don't talk in front of the cameras so you don't break character. They should allow off-camera time for the contestants, you know, set thing up for the next scenes. Besides that, just show them who you really mean to be. Got it?"
"I still don't know about this," Beverly warned.
"I'll take up janitor duties for a month if you don't get the Top 5," Liam offered.
"Deal." The two shaked hands, then let go just as they saw something metallic attached to three parachutes glide toward the ground.
"I guess the 12-pack of re-entry grilled sandwiches are ready," Liam concluded.
Beverly nodded as the two got up, and both of them ran into the forest in which the package was about to land.
Just a very short story starring Sadie and Heather (mentioned/flashback)
Our story starts with five Total Drama Island ex-campers, Justin, Beth, Ezekiel, Katie, and Sadie. They are known as The Drama Losers, due to the fact that they haven't won any TD season, even at the finale. Except for Beth, she has been in the final two, along with another ex-camper, named Duncan.
The Drama Losers are going to Camp Wawanakwa. Just to collect exciting, beautiful, and dramatic memories.
"Can you remember when I was voted out?" Ezekiel, "Zeke", as the others call him know, says while arriving to the island.
"Oh! Yeah! You were the first one out!" Beth screams excited.
"Or when I was voted out," Katie says.
"And the next challenge I was too!" Sadie replies.
"I remember that b*tch, Heather." Justin says angrily.
"We are here to think about good times, not to talk about the baddest girl in the whole world! Now, help me with the table." Ezekiel says and he, with Justin, take a table from the boat. They assemble it, and the group starts eating.
After that, they visit all the island. It was abadonaded a couple of years ago, so there is not problem. Sadie goes to the cabin were she lived during lot of days. She ducks her head under the bed, takes a note, and start reading.
- I'm very nervous with the semi-final. Gwen and Owen are very strong, even than me. I can't still with all this lie. I'm not as bad as I seem. But how can I tell the truth to everyone? I don't know. I hope to see you soon.
With all my love,
Then Justin appears. He tells Sadie to leave the place, and she replies "Give a minute,". He leaves the cabin and join the others. In the cabin, she takes out a big pink suitcase, open it, and there are a lot of letters from Heather to her.
She close the suitcase and whispers "I'll miss you, my love.". She returns and join the others. Ezekiel turns on the car and they leave the island.