1 comments/ 22688 views/ 0 favorites Shakabootie By: jthserra Shakabootie "Jeff, Jeff, you're breaking up. What did you say? Did you say the contestants are missing?" "Right George, they're all…" the phone then seemed to whistle, "… a few scraps of clothing…" more whistling, "… blood by one of the…" "Blood? Scraps of clothes? Damn Jeff, they've only been there a week. Am I hearing right? Jeff, Jeff… Damn it, get me another line out there." George shouted, slamming the phone back in the receiver. "It's not on this end sir. They are too far to range into a geosynchronous satellite, so we need to wait until we can get the right linkup." "We've got the globe covered in satellites and we can't reach him? Where the hell is he?" "It's the island Tongamundo, in the South Pacific. You wanted something remote." "Hell, remote is one thing, has this place slipped off the edge of the earth. How long until we get a better line through?" "Maybe 10 minutes sir, I'll let you know when we get something." "Damn, Marie get in here!" George shouted, rubbing his large hands over his face. George watched Marie walk quickly in. She wrote in a notepad as she stepped onto the hand-woven rug, recently imported from the last show. Her low-heeled shoes brushed across the rug with a barely audible "schwoosh". "I've contacted security and we are locking off the executive offices here. We've had just that one phone call from Jeff, so I think we have a lid on the media here." "Hell Marie, we are the media." "I mean we don't want any leaks," she replied. "Okay, you're right. At least until we find out what has really happened. Could we have heard right? Everyone is missing?" "From what I heard on your speakerphone," she said, adjusting her glasses that had slipped down her nose as she wrote, "and what little radio contact we got from one of the helicopter pilots, that's what it sounds like." "What about insurance," George asked, wiping the sweat from his brow, "what kind of coverage do we have?" "I've got legal reviewing the policy. Unless it was caused by an act of God, I think we should be covered." "How many are out there now?" "Well, only two have been voted off, but they are still nearby. We don't even know if they…" "Christ, then all of them are at risk?" "We don't know." George ran his gaze across his office. The two Emmy Statues collected dust on his wood-grained filing cabinet. "Two Emmys," he thought shaking his head, "Daytime Emmys, for a damn game show." He remembered receiving the awards, feigning appreciation, the whole time thinking, "I am better than this, I am better than a daytime game show producer." He had finished his speech, smiled, kissed the presenter (Susan Lucci, the all-time record holder for losing at the Emmys), and walked to the interview room. Now, he finally makes "prime-time" and it's a game show. A top rated game show, but still a damn game show, and hell, it was falling apart here. "Where is that damn connection? Can somebody get Jeff back on the phone?" "They've got something now. There sir, pick up on… What line? Six, is it line six? No, what line then? Five… Yes, five, pick up on line five, sir." "Finally… Jeff, Jeff can you hear me? You can? Good, I hear you just fine. Look Jeff, I'm gonna put you on the speaker phone. Maria's here and we'll get Fox from security in to hear this," he said, nodding to Maria, who swiftly darted out of the office. "Okay George. Look, you don't need to yell, the connection is much better than last time." George nodded as Maria and Albert Fox walked in. "Okay Jeff, we're here now. Let's take it slow, tell us what is happening." "Well, we were set up for an immunity challenge, over by the cove. This was a swimming challenge..." "Skip over the details Jeff and tell me what happened." "I'm getting there man. Anyway, we finished the setup and prepared for the tribes to arrive. The only problem, no one showed up. Neither tribe came to the challenge." "Both tribes?” "Both tribes. We tried to radio our individual camera crews, you know, the ones stationed in each camp." "Yes, I know Jeff, tell me what happened." "They didn't answer. We tried several times and got nothing. We split the crew up and headed to each camp. And, it was like I said in our earlier conversation. The camps were a mess. Both fires were still hot, but the food and cooking utensils were strewn about. Most of their personal belongings were scattered. Hell, even Jonquil's hat was here. She never goes anywhere without that hat. You remember the hat, large blue flowery thing that hung down..." "Jeff, stick to the point." "Right. Well, both camps were like that. We looked for a trail leaving the camps, but they must have brushed out their tracks and we had that big rain this morning. We are trying to get in touch with the local authorities, but the radio…" "Stop! Look, this is not something for local authorities. Hell, it's a deserted island, what local authorities are there?" "There's a town on a nearby island, Tongaleenda I think. They have a sheriff of sorts." "Listen to me Jeff. Don't contact the authorities, we will send our security people to handle this. Do you know what it will mean if this gets out? Mr. Fox, how soon can you get your people in there?" George asked the ex-linebacker security chief. "I figure about 20 hours, fully armed and ready." "Okay, Jeff, you still there Jeff? Yeah, okay. Listen Fox's men will get there in about 20 hours, in the meantime get your film crew into both camps, see if you can't work this angle into the game. See about getting a reworked script for this new "twist" in the game. Let me know if anything happens between now and when our security gets there, otherwise call me when they arrive." "What kind of twist George?" "Damn Jeff, you're supposed to be the talent, work something out. Just let me know what you are planning before you jump in the middle. I don't want another stunt like Wally pulled at the finale last year. I'm still hearing about us giving all those cars away." "But..." "Just do it Jeff," he said as he punched the button disconnecting the call. He then reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a medicine bottle and took out three pills. He tossed them in his mouth and swallowed. "Some game show we got here Marie. What would Bob Barker do now?" "What do we do?" she asked. "We wait. No we don't. Marie, get the writers together and see what they can work up. Make them think it's just a "twist" we want to through into the game. See what they come up with. Jeff's a nice face, but let's face it Marie, a Shakespeare he's not." "Right away sir." "Damn, why didn't I stay on "The Price is Right?" George muttered, slouching back in his chair. --- ----- ---- "Mr. Shumm, Mr. Shumm, line five: it's Tongamundo." Sitting up in his chair and shaking his head, George reached for conference button. "So soon?" "Sir you've been asleep forever. Mr. Fox is already there." Pushing the button, George began, "This is George, what's the situation." "The security team is here George, we have briefed Mr. Fox and he has looked over the situation. He has a fax setup with a secure line, says he is up and running." "Great. Jeff, our writers are gonna fax you a script. I want you to get on it right away. While you work on that, I am putting Fox in charge." "But…" "No arguments here Jeff, we need you for the on air stuff, let Fox handle behind the scenes. Now let me talk to him." "Fox here." "Albert, what's the situation there?" "Hold on for a moment Mr. Shumm." George heard footsteps, then a door closing and footsteps again. "Look, I've been here about an hour, but my team has been here for about eight hours. They have searched the island and located the tribes. Apparently, some of the contestants have been taken hostage by two cameramen and several other contestants. We got in close enough to talk to some of the hostages." "Hostages? Da-amn." "It's pretty strange here sir. The hostages said they didn't want to be rescued." "Don't want to be rescued? What the hell?" "Apparently, some of the contestants had been sampling some of the local flora." "Local flora?" "Yes, a number of the plants here have an hallucinogenic properties, while others will affect different parts of the nervous system. It started out innocent enough with the 'E Lusticus' plant and a few small orgies, but then some of the contestants mixed 'E Lusticus' with the 'Irritableus Paranoius.' They ended up with several very amorous, but very paranoid people. They quickly formed an alliance and, between their frantic sexual escapades, they convinced a cameraman to join them. “Hell man, it’s a fuck fest up here, if you excuse my language. I just spent the last have hour witnessing about 3 different orgies, they got on woman here must be working on some type of record. She convinced three guys to do her at the same time, had one on his back as she rode him, one crouched down behind her reaming her in the ass while she sucked off a third fellow. Last I saw she had two more guys waiting in line. You can say they went native, but this is ridiculous. Look, in addition to the orgies they took an untested mixture of the Yellow Bellium and 'Violetus Giggletus' and quickly subdued the non-alliance members. The mixture made the captives fear the alliance, but while doing so they just couldn't stop giggling. They decided that this life is pretty good, especially since they are spared the physically exhausting dalliances the alliance members seemed so caught up in." "Maria, get me some Tums. And get the writers in here," George shouted. "Albert, do you think you can…" "Wait Mr. Shumm, there's more." "Well, go on." "It seems both tribes fell into a similar circumstance. While searching a wider variety in their physical combinations, both tribes decided to merge. They have now created one tribe, the 'Shakabootie' tribe. There is a ruling class, which seems to be caught up in a non-stop orgy and a servant class that gets them food, watches and giggles. And there are the cameramen, they just film everything." "Those perverts." "Yeah, I've never seen a happier film crew. Anyway, during a momentary rest break, representatives from both classes here talked to my people, and apparently they want to stay here. Looks like you signed up a bunch of nuts, Mr. Shumm. I have my crew ready to round them up and get them back to the film schedule." "Wait a minute Albert. You say the cameramen have continued filming." "Well… yes." "And these people have gone completely native." "Yes." "And we have the signed rights to film and release whatever happens on the island." "Well, I'm not from legal…" "Albert, Marie is nodding. Look Albert, get with Jeff. Tell him to trash the script we just sent him, tell him to be prepared to get a script within 2 hours. Tell him to roll film in 3 hours." "But…" "Albert, if Jeff gives you any trouble, just give him a dose of that flower mixture. He'll be serving this show for at least a season or two." "Yes sir." George could almost hear a smile. "Maria, get those writers to work, they have two hours." "Right away Mr. Shumm." "And Maria, place a call for me to National Geographic. Tell them we have some native footage that will knock their socks off." As Maria walked to her phone she heard George laughing, "This ain't a game show anymore!" Shakabootie, The Final Conflict? "Marie, you got any Maalox in there." "What was that Mr. Shumm?" "Maalox Marie, have you got any Maalox." "No sir, I am sorry," her voice scratched over the intercom. "Would you be a darlin' and run downstairs and grab me some?" "Right away, Mr. Shumm." George closed his eyes, lowered his head onto the desk and slowly, methodically began to beat it onto his legal pad. The cold coffee in the cup rippled with each thump of his head. "I can't believe it, I just can't believe it," he whispered over and over. Tongamundo had revolted. They took over the island and captured the broadcast equipment. Fortunately after only a few hours of live feed, the connection was cut and Tongamundo was silent. "Survivor Tongamundo" was immediately put on hiatus and all network support to the island was cut off. Network security was enforcing an embargo around the entire island, nothing went in and nothing came out. Albert Fox, George's security team leader on the island had been captured for a while, but escaped and hid out in one of the caves. He could contact George for as long as his cell phone batteries held out. "SHUMM." George paused from the thumping on the desk, wondering... "GEORGE SHUMM?" He quickly closed his eyes and kneeled on the floor. "Is that you Lord?" he whispered sheepishly. "Damn George, will you get off your knees, you dolt." George rose slowly and looked toward the door. There in the bright light of 250 watt halogen down lights stood none other than Bob Barker. His silver hair glistened in the bright light, but his face was perfectly satin, not sparkle or reflection anywhere. Even in the heat of the lights, the man did not sweat. "Mr.... Mr. Barker?" "Yes George, it's me. Will you quit groveling and talk to me?" "But Mr. Barker, what are you doing here?" "Haven't you heard man? I'm "Prime Time" now. I'm saving the network's ass with my show this summer and I figured while I was here I'd straighten this "Survivor Thing" out." "Survivor thing?" "Yeah, George, "Survivor Thing." You think we're all blind? That family hour feed with the naked breasts and fucking people is not something you can ignore. You think you can keep all this secret? I'm Bob Barker, George that's right B -O - B fricking Barker. There's nothing I don't know around here. Now sit your ass down and fill me in on what's happening on the island." "Well, ah..." "Damn it George, get it through your head: I'm in charge now!" "Ah... yes, yes sir Mr. Barker." "Okay, drop the sir crap and just fill me in." "Well, the game contestants took over the island, forming into two separate groups... castes maybe. Anyway, hepped up on the different island herbs, one caste has the other subjugated, they've made servants out of them." "Yes, yes, I know all that he said," his hands tightened on the desk. The man was intense, extremely intense. But he didn't sweat. George took a deep breath, "The new "natives" got control of the supplies in the support camp, and for a while, we kept them fully provisioned. That is fed, watered and clothed..." "I know what that is George, just get on with it." "Anyway, we have now cut them off, a complete embargo: nothing comes out and nothing goes in. They should be feeling the pinch now: no food, no water, these "survivors" will be begging for mercy soon." "Have you heard anything from the island since the embargo?" "Well, my security chief Albert Fox will be calling in about an hour?" "Can't you call him?" "No, he's trying to conserve battery power, turning the phone off between scheduled calls. He'll call again at 2:15." "Okay, I'll be back at 2:10. In the meantime, try not to screw anything else up." "Right." Mr. Barker walked toward the door, but paused in the bright light of the halogen spotlights and slowly turned. "And George, make sure anything you do now, you clear with me." Marie eased around Mr. Barker and handed George the Maalox. George looked at the box and then slowly up to Mr. Barker. "Go ahead and have a Maalox," he moaned, exasperated. He walked toward the elevators. George heard him say, "And this idiot was on prime time before me?" as the elevator doors shut. "What do we do now Mr. Shumm," Marie asked. "We wait, we wait for Albert to call." Marie returned to her desk as George tore into the Maalox, tossing several tablets into his mouth. He then sat back down at his desk and intently began banging his head once again. *** *** After what seemed like only a few seconds George heard the voice again, "GEORGE, wake up George, he'll be calling any minute now." Startled, he looked up into those deep dark "game show host eyes" and shook his head. "Yeah, yeah he should call any minute now." His digital clock read 2:13. "Marie, when Albert calls, ring him into me." At precisely 2:15, George's phone lit up. George reached for the receiver, but Mr. Barker grabbed his wrist. He stared at George for a moment, then whispered, "Put it on speaker." George pushed the speakerphone button and immediately said, "Albert, this is George, Bob Barker is in the office with me." George listened to the pause from the other end and noticed Mr. Barker glaring at him. "Ah, okay. Hello Mr. Barker, it's an honor to talk..." "Yeah, yeah, go on Albert. What is happening there? Are they falling apart?" "Well, not exactly. They actually seem to be thriving." "Thriving? How can that be? We cut them off!" "Well, they are surviving quite well here. With the two classes, they seem to mesh well together so far. The servants take care of the menial chores: gathering water, harvesting the medicinal herbs and getting the food..." "Wait a minute, slow down Albert. How are they doing these things?" Mr. Barker asked. "Well to be honest, everything seems to be in ample supply here, as long you know where to look for it. As long as they are drugged, the servants are very happy to serve. They have made a number of amazing discoveries on the island and what they couldn't find they invented. They originally located a fresh water spring partway up the mountain. After a few days of carrying water, they built an aqueduct to get the water down to the campfire area. They have crafted some large pots out of some scrap metal they found around the island, so they can boil and sterilize up to 100 gallons at a time." "An aqueduct, 100 gallons at a time? Who are we talking about here, scientists?" "No, just resourceful people, survivalists. The servants also harvest the herbs, for the assorted drugs that the ruling class mixes and dispenses. The plants are ground into a pulp using a large rock grinder, powered by steam from the water sterilizer. The pulp is dried in open drying pits." "What about food?" Mr. Barker asked. "Food is going pretty well for them too. They quickly learned about the habits of the Nohav, the wild pigs that run freely on the island. While they are incredibly fast, the Nohav are also extremely curious. The servants simply took advantage of that fact and build some ingenious snares. They mounted some woven baskets with wire snares... they got the wires from our equipment, and started catching the creatures right and left. Apparently the pigs are so curious about what is in the baskets, they walk up and put their head in. The slightest movement and the snare tightens and catches them. "In addition to the Nohavs, a recent storm rolled though here and although it did contaminate several of the low lying fresh water sources, it also washed hundreds of fish into some land locked tidal pools. Catching fish is now easier than going to the local supermarket back home. I tell you, these folks are eating better than we were when you had us catered here. "They even have a doctor here who has set up a clinic. Better than the networks HMO I tell you. Some of my men were fixed up there and they are doing well. In fact, a number of our original security force has joined the Shakabootie tribe. To be honest, the food is looking awful good to me about now. "Other than that it's pretty much non-stop sex here. You ought to see Jeff go at it, the guys an idiot, but he's got a cock like an elephant, but that's not the best of his assets, the women call him the motorboat, apparently he's got a tongue that will tease their..." "We get the picture Albert. Look hang on there," George said. "Albert, listen carefully, I need to talk to their leader," Mr. Barker added. "You can't," Albert replied. "What? Do they know who I am?" "Of course they do Mr. Barker, but the leader is in the midst of a marathon orgy. Best I can tell he's got some woman on her hands and knees as he fucks her from behind. Another woman is on the first woman's back and he is eating her pussy. Anyway, using the herbs they have here, this could go on for another hour or two. They will let you talk to their spokesperson though." "Who is that?" Mr. Barker asked. "You remember Jeff, from the original TV show?" "That twit?" "That's the one, he's here now." "Well, put him on. Hello... hello Jeff?" "I hear you Barker." "That's "Mister" Bark..." "Can it Bob, you're just some two-bit announcer for a damn game show. Look man, let's make a deal, okay?" "Damn it Jeff, that was Monty Hall. My show's The Price is Right," Mr. Barker shouted. "Well, here's the price. The way I figure it, the wave of the network future is reality TV, and this here is as real as it gets, so here's what happens: put us back on the live feed and we'll save the network." "I'll not put that disgusting nakedness back on again." "Look that got a little out of control. I'll get them to tone it down and you give us two nights a week, one of them just before "CSI", and not that Miami piece of crap, the real one. You do that and they'll be calling you a reality TV guru." "Wait a minute here, I was working reality TV before you were born. Truth or Consequences, that was real, the games, the people, the money..." "That's a game show bozo, how far from reality can you get?" "That's it, I don't have to take that off some survival media twit." Mr. Barker slammed the phone down and stomped toward the door. Pausing in the spotlight once again he shouted to George, "You take care of it now, damn it, I am prime time." George noticed a sparkling bead of sweat slowly run down Mr. Barker's forehead. Mr. Barker nodded over at the two Emmys on George's shelves, "You ain't riding my coattails for any more of those, never again." He stomped out of the office. George heard the elevator doors open and then heard a voice, "I'm Bob Barker for...." The elevator doors closed, muffling out the rest of Mr. Barker's words. "What do we do now Mr. Shumm?" Marie asked. "Well, we wait until Albert calls back and see what Jeff has to offer." He looked over at the Emmys, "Coattails my ass. Marie, get the writers together, let's go get us a 'Prime Time Emmy.'" Marie smiled and quickly walked to her desk. George leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. "Yeah, a 'Prime Time Emmy' this time," he whispered. Shakabootie Too "Mr. Shumm, Mr. Fox is on the line." "Fox?" "Yes, he's calling from Tongamundo." "Marie, I know where he is calling from, why is he calling now? It must be 2:00 am there." "He said it was an emergency. Something like a revolt or something." "Revolt, I sent him a small army of security people, along with several hundred technicians. Where is the call?" "Line two sir, the reception is pretty good." He picked up the receiver and pressed the button for line two. "George here. What in the blue-winged hell is going on there Fox?" "Well sir, I'm here in our headquarters building with four of my guys and about five technicians. We are safe now, but appear to be surrounded." "Surrounded? By who?" "The... ah... natives sir." "Natives? There are no natives there. Damn it man, they are contestants, just Survivor contestants. We let them stay, but they aren't natives." "Well sir, things kind of got out of control." "Out of control? Albert, just get your guys and take over. I sent you enough men to take a small country, you should be able to handle a few game show contestants." There was a pause. "Well sir, that's part of the problem. Apparently I underestimated the potency and accessibility of the local narcotics. Some of my crew has joined the natives." "They aren't natives! How many Albert, how many men?" "All but the few of us holed up here at headquarters." "What?" "I said..." "I heard what you said. Exactly how many?" "It looks like about 76 armed security personnel and two hundred and sixty three technicians. They got Jeff too." "Jeff? That nit was half-gone when we hired him. How did this happen Albert?" "Well, it was strange, so strange. When I first got here we established our initial perimeter around the tribe, to keep them in our control. When the technicians and second security force arrived we sealed off the entire island and established a broadcast base. Within a few days, we had a fully operating TV station ready for direct feeds through the network. We continued taping the development of the Shakabootie tribe, while my forces dug in, ready to fend off any media types that might appear." "Okay Albert, that's all according to plan." "The tribe was nice, they cooperated in every way imaginable. The leaders granted interviews, we had complete access. Christ, they fed our crews. There is an excellent assortment of fruit here, and apparently, the servant class somehow figured out how to catch the Nohavs." "I thought they were too fast. We picked that island because the Nohavs were supposed to be to difficult to catch. You should have seen the mail I got from the animal rights folks when they barbecued that wild pig in Australia that time." "Apparently the pigs here are easy to trap. The natives are eating well. Hell, they were feeding the security and technical teams. Anyway, the tribe treated us with hospitality, the crews just fell in with them. Before we knew it, the tribe had the security and technical teams all lined up as the women moved down the line giving each of the guys a blowjob. The few women we had each had one guy with his face between her legs, while two other guys sucked on her nipples. Hell even the two dykes and three flames got serviced. I tell you it's like a sexual smorgasbord here, any kink you got they can match it with five of their own." "Can't you get some more men in there?" "They've got them all, all except the few of us here. And we can't go anywhere. Like I said, we are surrounded. And... sir... they have the broadcasting station." "You mean..." "They have the equipment to cut into our satellite linkups. They can broadcast." "Marie, get me... wait, look Marie, tell no-one about this, at least not until we figure out what to do," George said, motioning her to look out the door and make sure no-one can hear. "Mr. Shumm, I have a friend in Special Services. With a few phone calls, I think I can get some air support." "No, damn it man, you want this to get out? I might as well jump out the window here if anyone finds out about this. This goes beyond network Albert, hell we have created a monster here. A drug addicted population that has weapons. No, we keep this hush, hush. Nobody knows, I mean nobody, you got me Albert?" "Yes sir. I'll hold out here until you figure out what to do." "How long..." "Mr. Shumm," Maria said, her face a pale white. "Mr. Shumm, look at the monitor." George looked up at the screen. "Is that Jeff?" "Yes sir, that is Jeff." "And what is that behind him? Is that, that woman's... that woman's..." "Breasts sir? Yes, that is her breasts." "Turn up the sound Marie. That woman... ABC doesn't even show that much skin and right here at the family hour." "... to Tongamundo, our tribe sends you greetings. We are speaking from the headquarters of our newly formed government. I have gathered behind me the tribe council, rulers of Tongamundo, a new, completely independent nation in the South Seas. I would like to introduce the new leaders..." "Turn it down Marie. Where is that feeding to." "According to John, this is the network feed." "This is live? On network?" Marie nodded. "Shut it down, black it out. This can't be on." "Sir, they have tried. They think they can get it, but it will take a while. There is nothing else we can do." "Damn, damn, damn." "Do you want me to turn the TV back up?" "No Marie," George moaned, reaching for his pack of Tums. Marie watched him toss five or six in his mouth and begin chewing. "Is there anything I can do for you now?" "No... there's nothing.... Wait, Marie get me Bob Barker on the line. He's got to need a producer, or an assistant, a gaffe man or something. Yeah Marie, give Bob a call for me." He looked over at his two Daytime Emmy statues. "Yeah, those game shows weren't all that bad. And with the new Gameshow Network, they'll need plenty of experienced people." He looked at the TV Monitor. A bare-breasted woman was talking while several naked men took turns fucking two women right behind her. "Marie, you got Barker on the line yet?"