The Tributes (Part Two)

And lo, it did also come to pass, barely a day later, in fact, a day later, that Musings did also check his web browser after a morning's reading of the literary prowess of Lee Child and his enigmatic protagonist Jack Reacher,
and, also lo, whence Musings didst read the chapter laid out before him by the hairier, yet skinnier, of the two blognovellists, he didst LOL altogether a lot, for indeed,
the chapter was funny.
And seeing as Lark's introduction was so long, Musings was inspired to keep his relatively short, but also to add one decree,
that in honour of this being the tenth blognovel and all that was implied by such a number, namely that Karl and David don't really have lives,
it was decreed that the chapters of this tenth novel be slightly longer than usual,
just for the sake of it.

And then it was time for the tributes to be selected for this fusion of survival-of-the-fittest type games.

- From Timothy and Yolanda, Musings chose Reginald the singing Detective; first mentioned in chapter eight.
- From The Adventures of Garbageman, Musings selected the fifth singer of the Backstreet Boys, a passing reference in chapter 24. For those interested, his name is Kevin Richardson.
- From Dellua Spacecat, Musings deemed fit to include Porirua, first mentioned in chapter one. (And also still alive due to the magic of television.)
- From Erstwhile Rogers, Big Mack of chapter 19 was included,
- and from Chick Flik, Pam of chapter one made the cut.
- Flashback's contribution was an elephant (chapter 26),
- Roger of The Q Dimension's was nobody in particular. (Chapter 2). Spoiler alert: he wins.
- From The Epic of Krulnor, Musings chose Desmond the disgusting, from the first installment,
- and from Omric the Oarsome, ironically, 'twas Krulnor that was inserted into his now third blognovel. Such a glory hog. (Chapter 10).

And thus didst the adventure commence. Spoiler alert: If this should end in fire, then we will all burn together.


******


By the time Trixie and Albert reached the Tribal Circle, all the other contestants had already arrived, being led there themselves by clones of similarly-suited Steven Evanses and seated at various distances from a large fire pit in the middle of the circle. Trixie took a moment to examine the others seated around the fire. Such a diverse bunch! She thought. Trixie was also particularly intrigued by nobody in particular, and spent quite a bit of her time looking at nobody in particular in an effort to work out if he had any weaknesses. She saw none. Dangit! Turns out nobody in particular had all the skills and none of the flaws of the other contestants.

One of the Evanses made his way to a raised platform, surrounded by expensive lighting and smoke machines. Upon reaching the top of the platform via a small staircase built neatly into the platform's side, the Evans called out across the circle; "Welcome one, welcome all, to the Spin Off Games! This competition will test your every skill, nerve, and ability to its limits! You may not survive until the end, but don't worry, if you are fairly eliminated inside the Heptagon of Battle, you will wake up in your own bed a week later and remember nothing, only a vague sense of happiness and the taste of pink marshmallow in your mouth!"
Trixie was amazed at how the host-Evans appeared to be speaking in what sounded like an inside voice yet she could hear every word perfectly from quite a distance away. She nudged the brown-skinned chap sitting next to her and commented on the fact. "Wow! He is so audible! It's incredible!"
"Yeah," Dungay the Tibetan replied, "I bet it's genetic engineering. These hosts are never normal, you know. He's probably got all sorts of computer circuitry wired up inside his skull."
"Oh." Trixie replied. "I just thought it was a combination of good quality condenser microphones, compressors, and PA amplification, all discreetly installed around the Tribal Circle."
"Yes," Dungay replied with a certainty so certain that Trixie was almost certain he hadn't a clue what he was certain about, "That's what they want you to think."
The host-Evans continued his generic introductory speech. "Before we begin, I must of course first thank our principal sponsors, who have so generously helped us put on this event: Smithson and Son's Son," (polite applause was then put out through the discreetly hidden PA), "Box Co Boxes Incorporated," (a second smattering of applause), "and E. Ville Jeenius!" No applause followed this statement, for indeed, not all elimination contests are sponsored by groups anyone actually likes, plus, the thought of what an evil genius's mind could come up with as booby traps in an elimination game made everyone nervous, even the PA.
"Now," the principal Evans continued, "To round one. Once this round is over, only 12 of the 18 original contestants will continue on in the hope of becoming America's next top model. Out there," at this moment he spread his hand broadly to indicate the surrounding forest, "in the Heptagon of Battle, are hidden 15 Very Small Rabbits. These Rabbits are cunning, stealthy, and they have really sharp teeth! Trust me, I know!" the Evans said, to the muted laughter of his fellow hosts, at which point he held up his left hand, which only had one remaining finger on it - rudely, it was the middle one. The other fingers looked as if they had been bitten off by a Very Small Rabbit. Or lost. Hard to know, to be sure. "And so," Evans #1 continued, "Entrance into round 2 will be determined by which contestants manage to find a Very Small Rabbit, and then from those 15 successful contestants, which 12 manage to most beautifully style, manicure, and photograph their rabbits in delightful poses, which will then be used as monthly photos in my mother's 2014 calendar, to be hung in the second bathroom of her third holiday home. Cameras, nail kits, and makeup will be provided, but the rest, as they say," he paused briefly here for effect, and also possibly affect, "is up to you. Your time starts.... NOW!"

Trixie watched as the other contestants all lept to their feet and charged off into the jungle in various directions. Beside her, Dungay also stood up. "Come on!" He said, trying to pull her to her feet, "We've got Very Small Rabbits to find!"
"But why?" Trixie answered. "I'm relatively fond of my fingers, and waking up in bed a week from now, remembering none of this miserable experience and having the taste of pink marshmallow in my mouth actually sounds kind of nice."
"Good point." Dungay replied, and he sat back down beside her. For a minute they both sat silent, enjoying the night's tranquility, punctuated as it was by the sound of rabbits running, contestants shouting, and toes and fingers being chewed with relish. (Tomato and basil, if you must know.)
"Hey!" The shout of an Evans jolted them back out of their reverie. Before them the neatly suited clone stood holding some sort of blue glowing weapon. (The Ray Gun from the final chapter in the Epic of Krulnor, if you must know.) "Non-participation is punishable by death! Get moving!"
Trixie and Dungay reluctantly stood to their feet. "And what is victory rewarded by?" Trixie asked.


Chapter One : : Chapter Three