Dear Diary,
Life on Survivor Island still sucks. Since I last had the energy to write, three of our number have gone. Yummy disappeared, like mist. Spooooky. Chad was taken away by some creepy dudes in sunglasses and dark suits; I suspect IRS trouble.
And Tammy, poor Tammy...her watermelon carving didn't cut the mustard and she was fed to the sharks.
That leaves only myself (who's the only one even CLOSE to normal at this point), Nat, Rose, Utopia, and Mango (who has remained chained to the tree since he cut his finger off during the last task, but he ain't dead yet, so I guess that's okay)
Our newest task, if we hope to live to see another day, is to compose a piece of beat poetry for our
I do know how to be innovative when necessary, so I
Listen RIGHT HERE.
Hopefully it won't get me fed to the sharks...or worse.
Love and kisses,
Me
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