TAG TEAM SURVIVOR
It’s time for this week’s edition of Tag Team Survivor and the challenge for our tag specialists is eating gross food prepared by a plethora of guest chefs. All of the remaining Survivor contestants are gathered behind a long table with plates, silverware, and drinking glasses, ready for whatever the PRIME and MGM Brass may have in store for them.
CHEF NUMBER ONE
Metal pots and pans clatter as the camera zooms in on a white dress shirt and a thin black tie, half undone and hanging lazily around the neck of a relatively nondescript man. As we zoom out, we see more of him. He looks in his early forties with short black hair parted to the side and no facial hair to speak. He hums to himself with shirt sleeves rolled up around his forearms. His shirt isn’t particularly fancy. He wears no trendy styles of fabric of today. Just a simple cotton shirt, on what seems to be a relatively simple, common man. He works diligently in the kitchen and, more specifically, over a stove with a large stew pot of boiling water. The man speaks with a smooth, almost purposefully neutral accent. It’s just hard to tell quite where he is from.
Man: You have to make sure the stew is boiling just right so that all the meat flavors the broth.
He leans forward and inhales deeply and closes his eyes.
Man: Ahh. Yes. Just about right.
The man smiles quietly to himself and turns the burner off on the stove.
Man: Best I let the contestants know we are ready, eh?
His smile turns to a crooked grin as he unrolls his sleeves and buttons them around his wrists and then tightens his thin tie.Then, he reaches off to the side and grabs two items:
A brown officer’s cap.
A brown trench coat.
He slides his arms into the coat and places the hat upon his head, still grinning. Then, without taking the pot, the man turns on his heel and walks towards the exit of the kitchen and into the restaurant area. He strides through the swinging double doors and stands before the contestants, addressing them.
Man: My friend and I have made a delicious dish for you today. However, it is best that I allow said closest, and dearest friend, to present the dish.
His excitement was palpable in his eyes. Whatever this man was about to do, he’s been waiting a long time to do it. He puffs up his chest, straightens his back, and motions his hand to the double doors. But he doesn’t speak. He waits. He shifts his jaw in his mouth and swallows, as if he’s trying his best to maintain his composure as he’s suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks firmly.
Man: He is indestructible! He is invincible!! He is indefatigable!!! He is…
The sound of the door opens, and the camera cuts to the floor near the door where we see:
Black, leather, military grade boots.
Black pants with a red stripe running vertically down the outer legs.
No belt.
Gold clasps which bit into the waist of said pants and had, threaded through them…
…red suspenders.
Black t-shirt with none other than a hammer and sickle over the left pectoral.
Before the camera even gets to the face of the enormous man, the man cackles and speaks once more. His neutral accent is gone, and replaced by an accent that is beyond obvious: Russian.
Man: ….Ivan Sergeiovich Stanislav!
Indeed, Ivan Stanislav, of PCW and OSW fame, stands in the doorway in his all too typical attire from yesteryear. The years have been good to The Russian Bear. Truthfully, he doesn’t look as if he’s aged much since the last time he menaced a wrestling ring. The towering Russian, at over seven feet tall, clenches his ham sized left hand into a fist, while the right (complete with yellow hammer and sickle potholder!) holds onto the enormous stewpot with ease.
If this is Ivan Stanislav, then the smaller man had to be none other than Alexei Ruslan, his partner in collective crime. But it’s the ground shuddering laugh that comes next.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA!!
With thunderous footsteps, the enormous Russian slams the pot down on the table and the contents spatter up into the air. Alexei is nearly hopping from foot to foot as he brings his hands behind his back and listens on. Stanislav speaks with barely concealed disdain.
Ivan Stanislav: You can all rest assured that we have not come here to annihilate each and every member of PRIME.
Alexei adds next to his comrade.
Alexei Ruslan: As matter of fact, we had to sign waiver insuring that neither of us would humiliate or damage any of the “talent” here in PRIME.
Stanislav snorts grumpily.
Ivan Stanislav: In true commitment to collective, Alexei Gregorovich and I have made delicacy from Great Patriotic War. When fascist dogs surrounded great city of Leningrad for eight hundred seventy two days, the brave, stalwart soviet citizens fought back against the German dogs, and denied them entry into our city. Like true patriots, soviet people did anything and everything they could to survive. Which is example in stewpot.
Ruslan produces several large ladles and plops each of them in the pot.
Ivan Stanislav: The recipe has no name. It needs no name. It is water that we have specifically not filtered, so it truly tastes like unfiltered, boiled water from Leningrad. We have enough potatoes that would have been rationed out to each individual soviet citizen. Finally, if you look close enough, you may see particles floating in water. That is special ingredient to give stew body: sawdust.
Alexei Ruslan: Sawdust specially imported from Russia. You are receiving true sawdust from stalwart Russian trees!
Ruslan cackles and pulls out a white handkerchief from his back pocket and dabs his eyes. Stanislav continues to glower down at the assembled group.
Ivan Stanislav: We took mercy on all of you and added protein. You will find meat chunks in stew. Soviet citizens had to find protein wherever they could. To include eating dog. PRIME would not let us feed you dog, so we went to local shelters to acquire worst possible dog food.
While Ruslan is bursting at the seams, The Russian Bear is completely serious.
Ivan Stanislav: Soviet citizen did, indeed, resort to cannibalism, but this was rare. More often, they ate dead dogs and whatnot. We have taken pity on all of you. There are no people in our food. Besides, eating a capitalist could be hazardous to your health.
A grumble moves through The Russian Bear as he chortles to himself.
Alexei Ruslan: Also, you can all eat from same pot. Some people did not have advantage of multiple bowls. And besides, it is true collective means of eating… share and share alike!
Ivan puffs out his barrel chest while his stomach tightens. He’s not ripped like a bodybuilder, but thick like his ursine namesake. He grinds his teeth and considers himself, before speaking again.
Ivan Stanislav: Alexei Gregorovich mentioned the “talent” here in PRIME. I feel it necessary to say something on this. It is clear that standards of PRIME have not gotten any better. If not, they have gotten worse. I see, by and large, children and would-be athletes with but fraction of talent that Ivan and Alexei had back in day. And what Ivan and Alexei have right now! I would be inclined to thrash each and every one of you capitalistic fools…
Alexei interjects and mutters to Ivan.
Alexei Ruslan: But we signed the paper, Ivan Sergeiovich…
Stanislav nods and looks down at his smaller friend, who looks back up, and grins, before looking at those assembled.
Ivan Stanislav: That is right, little piglets. No need to cry or shake in boots. Ivan and Alexei will not harm you. We won’t harm… the… talent…
With that, Ivan explodes into his seismic laugh.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA! Talent!! DYAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!! Eat up, “talent” of PRIME and prove your mettle. Who knows, maybe real food will put hair on chest? Nyet? DYAAHAAHAA!!
The two Russians laugh uproariously, side by side, while the camera zooms in on the contents of the pot: sawdust ridden liquid, poorly cut potatoes, dogmeat… all to the tune of uproarious Russian laughter.
All the contestants, with the exception of Solid Gold Rock n Roll, reluctantly eat what’s put in front of them. Barry Delgado and Trent Sadikaj immediately nope out of this.
CHEF NUMBER TWO
“Dangereux” by IAM blares. One would hope we would see the quietly charismatic Frenchman, FLAMBERGE, emerge in this moment – unfortunately, we’re left with the frumpy man in the too-colorful suit who manages his marketing endeavors, Daniel Darby. Mr. Darby, unaware of the disdainful nonchalance in the air at his arrival, has his arms up and a too-wide grin across his face.
Mr. Darby: Yes! Wonderful! This is marvelous!
He steps forward as an assistant steps forward with a silver cloche over a plate. The assembled competitors are noticeably talking to one another, wondering how one dish’s worth of food is supposed to be enough to challenge the full group. Daniel Darby acknowledges what he imagines to be “fans” of his. After a comically-loud throat-clearing, Darby steps forward, mic in hand.
Mr. Darby: Indeed, despite the fact that my charge, FLAMBERGE, declared himself open to partnerships with members of the PRIME roster for this event and no one had the self-worth to allow themselves to be overshadowed by the greatness he creates every day and take him UP on his benevolence, we are MORE THAN HAPPY to present some footprints in the journey of this…”Survivor”…challenge. Now…BEHOLD!
The cloche is lifted. We see a bag, though the text is unclear at first.
Mr. Darby: Brets and PRIME, what a true and earnest partnership. They’ve really come up with something special.
The cameraman has taken a few steps forward, and we can finally see the text on this sickly green bag – “Les Chips DANGEREUX”. Is that a helix shell outline we see, too?
Mr. Darby: This challenge will test your SOPHISTICATION and your HEAT-HOOD! I imagine that many of you have heard of the One Chip Challenge by an inferior chip company. What we are prepared to offer you today is “LE CHALLENGE DANGEREUX”, in partnership with Brets Chips!
Daniel Darby gives an obnoxious wink to the nearest camera.
Mr. Darby: One point three million on the Scoville scale, and wait, there’s more! Brets is a French company that values its culinary heritage – these are Escargot-flavored hot chips! Enjoy, mes amis!
Darby bows out to raucous nothing.
Bobby Dean had been distracting Doozer while Mr. Darby was talking, so they weren’t exactly sure what kinds of chips these were. The Old Bull apparently loves chips so when they were placed in front of everyone, he started scarfing them down….and immediately spat them back out, hacking and wheezing as he did. All the other contestants finished their chips, and the Bandits were the next ones out.
CHEF NUMBER THREE
The erstwhile Princes of New England, Connor O’Reilly and Simon Knox, stride into the room next. Connor wears an immaculate gray and black waistcoat suit, while Simon is dressed in an obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Behind them, several people follow him in with more plates of horrible food, presenting them to the participants as the pair continue to walk to the center of the room.
Simon casually hands Connor a microphone, and Connor taps the top of the microphone with his hand to get everyone’s attention.
Connor O’Reilly: Hey. I’m Connor, this is Simon.
Simon reaches over with his left hand, noticeable because he reaches across his whole body, and pulls Connor’s microphone towards his mouth.
Simon Knox: Behold, the Princes of New England.
He waits for some applause. There’s a little. Then he lets go of the microphone and lets Connor carry on.
Connor O’Reilly: Gentlemen. Before I poison you all with this simple dish of mine, let me tell you a little something about it. See, my ma, she wasn’t what you would call a good cook. Every Thursday, she’d serve my sister and me a meal so terrible that we both tried to find any excuse to not have to eat it. Heck Thursdays, man. Heck ‘em to death.
Connor cringes, perhaps wishing he could use much more colorful four-lettered words than the ones he’s resorting to.
Connor O’Reilly: Would anyone like to know what the main ingredient of what a Thursday at the O’Reilly household was? Anyone?
Crickets. The sound of silence was deafening.
Connor O’Reilly: Oysters.
Simon Knox: Damn. Every Thursday, huh?
Connor O’Reilly: Every damn Thursday.
Simon Knox: Can’t tell if your mom was a sadist or not.
The Princes share a shudder.
Connor O’Reilly: Anyway, I decided that since we were asked to take part in this, we’d inflict a little bit of my ma’s special brand of sadism on the lot of you. Just with a little… Connor O’Reilly touch.
The dishes are served, and everyone is presented with two oysters each. Each of them has two flags planted on them – one with the Patriots logo and the other with the Red Sox logo. Also, the inside of one of the oysters is covered in fudge. The other, in mayonnaise.
Simon Knox: Enjoy.
Pat Cassidy’s real giddy about a dish prepared by two fellow New Englanders, and he takes this one for the Saturday Night Specials in a show of regional solidarity. The Nates take one look at the dish and decide this is enough for them, and they’re out. Everyone else puts the oysters down the hatch.
CHEF NUMBER FOUR
Our current presenters step forward, smiling. Fans who watched PRIME a long time ago and have impeccable memory may remember the two men as Ian Nackedy and Gildenstern, former PRIME Tag Team Champions as Sound and Fury. Both Ian and Gildenstern are wearing ten gallon chef hats. There is a large dish with a steel cover on top in front of them.
Ian Nackedy: Tell me you like our hats.
No one does.
Ian Nackedy: While we wrestled in PRIME, we were known for many things. Our grace. Our fortitude. Our resilience in the face of adversity. The fact that we dressed up as different gimmicks every week.
Gildenstern: I had a finisher called the Basketweaver where I pulled on the opponent’s ears a bunch.
Ian Nackedy: It is that last one – the last thing I said, not whatever weird thing Gilly said – that we use as motivation for this dish, undoubtedly the most delicious thing you will taste. Sound and Fury were a combination of a dozen wonderful things, creating an amuse-bouche of excellence. Thus, our dish combines all of our favorite food in life.
Gildenstern: For this dish, feast your eyes on…
He removes the cover with a flourish.
Ian/Gildenstern: THE EVERYTHING!
The contestants stare at the plate, which appears to be a bunch of food piled on top of each other.
Ian Nackedy: Inspired by Rochester New York culinary styles, The Everything takes a concept that made our tag team famous: what if we just had everything?
Gildenstern: The base is a cookie cake with fried eggs on top. From there, we took inspiration from the classic literature of Eric Carle.
Ian Nackedy: You may remember a lurid tale about a certain hungry caterpillar that tried eating fruit before realizing it was yucky and having a hell of a Saturday. Well, every bit of food from that book is here on top of the cookie dough: one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon.
Gildenstern: Then we topped the entire thing with Chocolate Gravy from an Arkansas diner and sprinkled black beans and mini Starbursts on top as well as shredded pepper jack cheese. Someone once said you can’t have it all. Well, if you look at this dish, you will clearly find that they were wrong.
Sid Phillips is looking mighty green already from what he’s ingested so far, and he and Joe Fontaine can’t continue. As they’re making their way off camera, Brock Newbludd accidentally bumps into EHDSCG, who goes flying through the air and Canadian Destroyers Sid Phillips.
CHEF NUMBER FIVE
El Tembler, the legendary 60 year old luchadore, steps forward clad in his classic black mask replete with white borders around the eyes and all 5’8” of him reaches out to grasp the lid of a serving platter. He makes direct eye contact with King Blueberry.
El Tembler: rey arándano, El Tembler remembers your treachery. Hoy pagas tu deuda.
He pulls back the lid revealing a Mexican delicacy, Cuitlacoche, aka Corn Fungus.
King Blueberry has retrieved EHDSCG and shoves the food down the Mannequin’s mouth. Somehow. But after the dish from the Sound and the Fury, neither Pat Cassidy nor Brock Newbludd have the stomach for anything that looks, sounds, or has “fungus” in the name. They can’t continue.
CHEF NUMBER SIX
The next presenter is someone that hasn’t been seen on television in close to twenty years, and even then was never very notable, so no one will blame you if you don’t know who he is.
And if you do know who this is, rest assured you will be judged for it. Harshly.
Dr. Zeke D. Badguy, Esq looks like a lanky child who raided his grandfather’s closet to compile his outfit. The plaid pants and frilly shirt he wears are complemented by a tweed jacket and bowling shoes. Completing this disaster of an ensemble are a neon ski mask and a pair of old lady Blublockers whose size makes them better suited as a welding mask. The “Goodwill supervillain” vibes are strong with this one.
He is flanked, as always, by the hulking forms of the tag team he once managed: two large dudes in black pants, with matching sweatshirts and masks that make them look like juiced-up raccoons. They are Barry and Rocko, the good doctor’s personal evil henchmen, The Evil Henchmen.
Dr. Badguy: Alright, let’s get the poisoning over with. I have been informed that the National Wrestling Council is dead, which is a shame because that means I have not conquered it, and unfortunately none of you are Leonard Aarons or Lance Marshall, so we won’t be checking that one off the bucket list. Now, which one of you is the moron with the lawn gnome?
King Blueberry very obviously points at Jonathan Rhine.
Dr. Badguy: Thought you could hide from me, did you, Jerry? Well I hope you and your lawn elf are hungry… FOR POISON! I hope you put the toilet paper in the freezer last night before bed, Jerry. Because we’re going to boil your bottoms… WITH POISON!
He taps his cane twice on the floor and both of his henchmen approach carrying large trays.
Dr. Badguy: Barry, Rocko, now it is time to remove the Cloche of Catastrophe from the Trays of Terror and rend their meaty innards asunder!
The two large men each remove the cloche from their corresponding trays to reveal a collection of steaming bowls full of deep green liquid.
Dr. Badguy: Here we have a porridge of boiled cilantro in cilantro broth, that has been blended with fresh cilantro, fried cilantro, with a cilantro reduction drizzle. Each bowl is topped with an entire diced raw onion, one Carolina Reaper pepper, and a splash of malic acid for some zing! We have also taken the liquid from reconstituted lutefisk and cooked it down into a gastrique. And for a few of you, we have a special treat…
Paxton Ray dunks his spoon into the bowl, and is met with resistance. Angry, clawed resistance.
Dr. Badguy: SURPRISE CRABS!
Crawling out from a few of the bowls are very angry, very live crabs. Hell, you’d be angry too if you’d spent the last few minutes dunked in a bowl of spicy green torture.
Paxton looks about ready to do a murder on Dr. Zeke but Jonathan Rhine convinces him that not only is it not worth it, but they’ve already advanced in the competition. Paxton, reluctantly, listens to reason and the two start leaving the set.
On Rhine’s and Ray’s way out, Paxton has some words with King Blueberry and things get heated. Paxton slams his fist on a bench that sends the Mannequin flipping end over end, with all the contents so far spraying across the room, and it gives a Canadian Destroyer to Joe Fontaine, who had been swishing water around in his mouth to get rid of gnarly food aftertaste.
CHEF NUMBER SEVEN
OH GREAT, IT’S THIS ASSHOLE….
Your chef: Cancer Jiles
Your meal: Over Easy eggs. Extra salt.
When asked about why he chose this dish for the contestants:
“You can judge the character of a person by the way they eat eggs. When eating a Bandit Special, over easy salty yolk, you either stomach it or you don’t. Those who can, will. Those who can’t, won’t. It’s very simple.”
When asked if his dish was catered to any one team:
“I picked this dish at random. I would never threaten the integrity of sport. In fact, I just found out the other day that Bobby and Dooze were doing Survivor. I would have changed my idea but I had already purchased the eggs.”
When asked if he knew who any of the other teams were:
“Next question.”
When asked if he had a team he was pulling for:
“There’s a bunch out there. Really. I like a lot of their chances. They’ve all come so far, and now, with how the rules have changed… I just don’t know. I really want that one team to win. They seem to really embody the over vigor of the game. Then again… I could see anyone winning it all. Well, anyone except for the eGG Bandits.”
When asked where the salt comes from for his dish:
“Not that shaker.”
When asked if there would be more than one egg:
“There will be one egg. Fried to Perfection. It will be four inches around, yolk in the middle. There will be salt covering the egg white portion. The rule of competition is simple. Swallow it. Nothing more, nothing less. If you have high blood pressure, oh well. Take a pill or something.”
When asked if there was a tie breaker incase teams tie:
“I’ll kick someone in the face. Or they can snort the shell.”
EHDSCG is retrieved once more and now it’s Blue Live Crew versus Garbage Bag Johnny and Nova. Nova and EHDSCG eat their extra salty eggs but the pound and a half of salt on Blueberry’s egg is too much for him. GBJ scarfs it down no problem.
WINNERS: GARBAGE BAG JOHNNY AND NOVA
ELIMINATED FROM SURVIVOR: SOLID GOLD ROCK N ROLL AND THE eGG BANDITS