JEFF PROBST: Previously on Survivor 3.01: The Yukon: The Tribes merged, and in the Immunity Challenge, Glen and Georgia competed in a grueling test of endurance. At the six-hour mark, the two remaining competitors decided upon a sudden-death resolution, and Georgia emerged victorious. Later, the now unified Tribe decided upon a new name, calling themselves “Rowsdower”.
[Rowsdower Tribe]
GLEN: Mickey, everyone seems to be avoiding me today. Do you know why?
MICKEY: Let’s take a walk. Over there.
[Glen and Mickey head away from the campsite. Meanwhile, the others are resting up for Tribal Council. Neil is a few yards away, sitting under a Douglas Fir.]
MELISSA: … Look at Neil, over there by himself. … What a psycho.
EULABELLE: Why do you say that, child?
MELISSA: … Well, he’s obviously socially inept. …There’s nothing wrong with that. … But I think he should be on prescription drugs. I’m sure he’d be a lot better if he was on medication.
EULABELLE: My, oh, my, I do think it’s funny listening to a young ‘un telling folks how they ought to be! You’re what, child, 22?
MELISSA: … Yes. Yes, I am 22 years of age. … But I’m really mature.
RUBY: Well, Neil gives me the creeps. He’s anti-social. People like that should be locked up, or something.
MELISSA: He’s like Mickey with his spoon. … It’s like he thinks he’s a wizard now. …They should both be on Paxil. Or Prozac. I can’t handle this.
GEORGIA: Maybe you’re the one who should be on sedatives.
MELISSA: …Look at him over there. He probably thinks he’s better than us.
GEORGIA: You don’t know that. Besides, is it so difficult for you to comprehend that maybe he prefers his own company to sitting around playing ‘Truth or Dare’ with a bunch of people half his age? You just can’t stand the fact that he isn’t utterly fascinated by you.
RUBY: He’s not better than us! We’re all the same!
GEORGIA: That’s it, isn’t it? In your chocolatey-fudgy view of the world, everyone is exactly the same.
MR. B NATURAL: I wish everyone was just like me!
ROGER: Well, Ah sure as hell don’t!
MR. B NATURAL: See, this is how hate gets started. If everyone was the same, there’d be no hate! No one would be excluded from the ‘popular table’ at lunch, because there’d BE no ‘popular table’!
GEORGIA: No, there wouldn’t be any hate, or any petty hierarchy in high-school lunchrooms. If everyone was the same, hate and love would both be non-existent. Friendships would be pointless. Why should Neil prefer hanging around with me, or Roger, or you, if we’re all exactly the same?
TORGO: This… SOUNDS… like the… PLOT… of any… NUMBER… of bad… SCIENCE FICTION… movies.
GEORGIA: Yes, and those movies are all the same: a nightmarish distopia of stifling conformity. Brought on by blind intolerance of individuality.
TORGO: But NEIL… is an… INTROVERT. The… MASTER… would not… APPROVE… of him… BEING… in his… TRIBE!
ROGER: Well, yew young pups are all ready to send ol’ Neil to the Gulag, I tell yew what. Is yew a buncha commonists, or something?
MELISSA: …Well, just because you’re all older than us doesn’t mean you have all the answers.
GEORGIA: No, but at least we can see that. Twenty years is really going to change your perspective, dear.
[Neil joins the group, stretching and yawning.]
NEIL: Oh yeah! Nothing like a little midday nap to recharge your batteries! Who wants to get wood?
[While all this is going on…]
MICKEY: Glen, I’m a man, you’re a man. Well, you’re not really a man so much as you’re…
GLEN: A freak?
MICKEY: No, not a freak. No. More like a mutant. Because you used to be a man, but then you mutated. Into a mutant.
GLEN: What’s your point?
MICKEY: Well, the only way I can deal with you is man to mutant. So that’s why I have to tell you that the rest of us have decided to vote you out tonight. You. Tonight. Das Boot.
GLEN: WHY!!?? Oh, what sin could a man possibly commit in a single lifetime to bring this upon himself?
MICKEY: It’s nothing personal. It’s because of who you are. Or what you are. Nothing personal.
GLEN: Maybe that makes sense to you, but…
MICKEY: See, you have to admit you’re a threat to the rest of us. And every living thing. No, forget I said that. Forget. What I mean is, you have an amazing physical advantage; you’ve won all the Immunity Challenges for your Tribe, and it just doesn’t work.
GLEN: It’s worked pretty well so far.
MICKEY: You know, you made some mistakes early in the Game. Errors in judgement. But I think we’d all agree that you’ve grown a lot since then. I mean…
GLEN: And it’s just a game, right? Nothing personal. Well, that certainly makes me feel better!
MICKEY: I knew you’d understand. I just wanted you to be ready for it. Prepared.
GLEN: What, were you all afraid that the giant freak, I mean MUTANT, would go on a rampage? Crush you all into a bloody pulp and devour you, savoring your tender flesh and then playing ninepins with your spines after I made a necklace out of your skulls?
MICKEY: No! No, Glen, that thought never occurred to us. Never. Well, maybe a little. Somewhat. Yes.
GLEN: All I see is people getting smaller, every minute; while the beating of my heart gets louder, and LOUDER!
[Glen storms off, and Mickey heads back to camp while the earth shakes.]
ROGER: Ah take it yew talked to Glen. How’d it go?
MICKEY: Better than I expected. Have you been losing weight?
[Tribal Council]
JEFF PROBST: Welcome to your first Tribal Council as the, what is it? “Rowsdowser” Tribe? I’m curious how you came up with that name. Mickey?
MICKEY: It’s “Rowsdower”. It’s from a Canadian legend. Folklore. A saga of a man who comes out of the Yukon, protector of the weak, champion of the spindly, defender of the meek, and like that.
MR. B NATURAL: Besides, we all like saying, “Rowsdower!”
SURVIVORS: ROWSDOWER!
JEFF PROBST: OK. It’s time to vote.
[One by one, the Survivors cast their votes, the last one returning the bowl of votes to Jeff.]
JEFF PROBST: Once again, I need to remind you that once the votes are tallied, the decision of the Tribe is final. The Survivor voted out will be asked to leave the Tribal Council area immediately. I’ll tally the votes.
[Jeff begins to tally the votes. In his head, apparently.]
First vote: Glen.
Second vote: Mickey.
Third vote: Glen.
Fourth vote: Mickey. Two votes for Glen, two for Mickey.
The fifth vote: Glen.
The sixth vote: Glen. Four votes for Glen, two for Mickey.
The seventh vote: Glen.
The eighth vote: Oh, this is so tedious! Why can’t I just pull out the votes in a random order? Why do I always have to read the greatest possible number of votes?
MELISSA: … We enjoy the suspense.
JEFF PROBST: Do you know how hard it is for me to maintain a straight face through this? And ten of you voted tonight! It takes you guys forever to vote, especially Torgo. I mean, we could save so much time with just a show of hands.
RUBY: Well, where’s the drama in that?
NEIL: No, I’m with Jeff. We could get it done a lot faster that way.
GEORGIA: But that defeats the concept of the secret ballot.
TORGO: It’s… NOT… like we were… VOTING… for PRESIDENT… or…
EULABELLE: But then folks would know how the other folks voted.
MR. B NATURAL: We should all be free and open! We shouldn’t hide our votes like they were in a closet, or something!
ROGER: Some things should stay in the closet, Ah tell yew what.
GLEN: Would you just read the freakin’ vote, already?!
JEFF PROBST: Where were we? Oh yes. The eighth vote: Glen. That’s six votes for Glen. The remaining votes are irrelevant; I won’t reveal them. Come up here, Glen, and bring your torch. The Tribe has spoken. [Jeff extinguishes the torch, and Glen leaves.] Those of you who remain will at least be on the jury, to decide who wins the Grand Prize of one million dollars. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
[Confessional]
GLEN: Time has lost all perspective. Everything that happened here seems like another world. Now, I’d like to clear something up. Yes, I ate two cherries! Sue me! That’s probably why I started growing again! Well, I had an amazing colossal time here in the Yukon. Now I have to walk over to Anchorage, and catch an aircraft carrier. Literally. So long.
Special edition part 1
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