Sh*tagain’s Island

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful year.
That started from this interweb
Aboard this blogosphere.

The mate was a write-y blogging man,
The skipper too fat, you know.
Five others boarded the ship that day
For a new reality show.
A new reality show.

The premise was a bunch of fatties,
Left on an island by a crusier.
It’s a little bit like a cross between
Survivor and The Biggest Loser.
Survivor and The Biggest Loser.

The ship set ground on the shore of an
Uncharted desert isle.
With Sh*tagain.
Sam the Skipper, too.
The married couple, from Team Giles.
The blogging star,
No More Bacon and Merry-Ann,
Here on Sh*tagain’s Isle.

No beer, no cake, no candy bars,
Not a thing that tastes too great.
Like Oprah every couple of years,
They’re sure to lose some weight.

So join us here right now, my friends.It’s sure to be a trial,
For seven starving castaways,
Here on "Sh*tagain's Isle."

Slimmin' Sam

Jen, a Prior Fat Girl

Team Giles

No More Bacon's Ryan

Mary from A Merry Life

“What’s with this sparkly outfit?” asked Jen-Ger, surveying the designer dress with the low-cut neckline she was sporting with a confused expression on her face.

“I think it looks fantastic,” said Merry-Ann, writing another postcard to her boyfriend.

“Va-va-voom!” said Ryan, smiling and arching his eyebrows.

“Why don’t you go build a radio or something?” sneered Jen-Ger, taking a seat next to Merry-Ann at the picnic table.

“What do I look like, some sort of professor?” frowned Ryan. “Besides, what am I gonna make it out of? Palm leaves and coconut shells?”

Merry-Ann looked up from her writing excitedly. “Oh, I made a coconut pie,” she exclaimed. “It turned out awesome!”

Ryan pointed to a pair of runners making their way onto the scene. “Look,” he said. “Here comes Team Giles heading back from their jog around lagoon…

“That was an awesome run, Luvvy,” chuckled Mr. Giles.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“Ummmm… ‘Luvvy’?

Mrs. Giles punched her husband hard in the shoulder. “That’s just flat-out creepy, Rodney…” she added.

Mr. Giles looked sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I was just trying to get into the spirit of the whole thing, Lauren.”

Sam the Skipper walked toward the group carrying a big load of firewood.

“Why am I doing all the heavy lifting?” asked Sam. “Has anyone seen Sh*tagain?”

“I saw him down by the beach writing stuff in the sand with a stick,” answered Jenn-Ger, adjusting her dress again.

Merry-Ann didn’t look up from her writing: “That’s his ‘sand blogging.’”

“What the Sam Hill is ‘sand blogging’?” asked the skipper.

“Writing stuff in the sand with a stick,” Merry-Anne told him.

“Why’s he do that?” asked Mrs. Giles.

Merry-Ann smiled: “He thinks when the tide comes in, it sends the blog out into the world.”

“That may very well be the saddest thing I ever heard…” said Jen-Ger, shaking her head.

“Hey guys…,” exclaimed Sh*tagain, a big goofy grin on his face.

“ Hey Shitagain,” said the skipper. “Ummm… whatcha been doing?”

“Just updating Jack Sh*tagain, Gettin’ Fit Again.”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” tsked Jen-Ger.

Ryan decided to change the subject: “So… who’s ready for the tribal council vote/weigh-in?”

“Crap!” grimaced Sh*tagain. “I wish I hadn’t just eaten that coconut pie…”

-The End-