Aaaah, so many parts I could have quoted Paulie.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulie“Who’s your leader?” Andrew asks sharply.
“Who’s your daddy?” Rupert replies.
“Have you guys found any fish in this barren, lifeless part of the ocean?” Osten asks.
“We eat twigs and rocks,” Rupert growls.
“Wot wuz eeyin the trayzher ba’ox?” a female voice inquires from the darkness.
Rupert’s composure restored, he folds his arms again and stares contemptuously at Ryan. “A jack-in-the-box,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “And more sand. And...” He leans toward Ryan with a conspiratorial look in his eye. “...your mama.”
The party cha-chas its way back up the beach, drinking wine and wolfing down bon-bons.
The tribe ignores him, focusing instead on the cowering figure of Jon, who is trying to hide behind Rupert on the Morgan mat. “Ah, there you are, Jon,” Christa says in a bored, matter-of-fact voice. “We thought you were dead.”
She points at the tiny plume of blond hair poking out from behind Rupert’s waist.
Sandra steps up and delivers a perfect strike to the top of Jon’s head. The ball ricochets off his skull with a hollow-sounding pwock! sound. “Yow!” Jon yells, rubbing his head. “Why doesn’t this thing have one of those protective screens?!”
“Don’t know,” Jeff says. “Oversight, I guess. All right. One point each for Morgan and Drake. Rupert, you’re next.”
“Hey!” Jon yells again. “Why did they get a point?! OW!” Rupert’s wooden ball whistles into the tank and pelts Jon in the stomach. “Come on!”
“Two points, Morgan.”
The tribes alternate with their throws, sometimes going for the bullseye, sometimes going after Jon directly. Ultimately, it’s down to Osten and Michelle with Morgan clinging to a one-point lead.
“All right, Osten,” Jeff says. “You can put this thing away. Let’s see what you can do.”
“It’s my old dress,” Rupert says, dumping the dirty floral mound of material on the sand. “I figured Osten could use it. His teeth chatter at night. Gotta run.
When it completely disappears, Osten bends down and scoops up Rupert’s dress. “Maybe if I took it in a little bit,” he suggests, holding it up to his waist.