Days of Our Lives Survivor

Sunday, June 10, 2001

Day 13 on Survivor Island

[Shane emerges from the ISA room having heard about another fork incident. With Laura and the fork sniper on his mind, he isn't watching where he's going. Before he realizes it, his right foot steps in a bucket of *blue nail polish*...a second later, his left foot heads into a second bucket of *blue nail polish*]

What bloody fool put *blue nail polish* into colossal size buckets and left them on my doorstep. *blue nail polish* is the last thing I need slowing me down.

[His shoes and socks covered in *blue nail polish*, Shane decides he doesn't have time to change, so he removes them and heads to find the rest of his team, especially curious about what Hope might be up to.]

[Calling]  Oh Hope dear...it's been so long since I've seen you...where are you? [Still not locating her, he heads toward her tent.]

Ooooowwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!! [His scream bellows above the trees and is heard across the entire island. Shane looks down to find that not only does he still have remnants of *blue nail polish* on his feet, but he has also just stepped on a fork. He's just a few steps away from Hope's tent.]

[Marlena and Laura appear after hearing Shane's scream, not the least bit worried that they are now on the wrong side of the island.]

Laura: Shane...was that you screaming?

Marlena: It must be that *blue nail polish* on your feet...kind of freaked you out, didn't it?

No, it's the fork stuck in my foot.

Marlena: Did you say fork? You better bring that and come with us. Roman's just been attacked.

[The three head back to Tribe 1's encampment, Shane in his *blue nail polish* and with the fork in hand.]

confessed by Shane Donovan at 12:21 AM

***

Belle *Confessional* - Tribe Epojetahwe

(As the indigo blue nail polish darkness of night gives way to the morning sunrise, Belle stretches inside her tent. Her legs rise, pointing towards the heavens and her blue nail-polished toenails peek out from under her sleeping bag. Her thoughts once again flood to the short meeting she'd had with her mother, still upset that she'd walked away from her. She's barely been able to think of anything else. And even after a day of mindless fun painting flowers on anything and everything with blue nail polish, she is still bothered by it. She wasn't able to get to sleep the night before, and only Timothy's sweet rendition of Blackbird took her to dreamland.

Before moving up and out, Belle thinks to herself, 'She's like this zombie. I don't know who she is anymore. Well... that's really nothing new. I mean, besides her acting all crazy all the time, I don't have many memories of... so, it's not like I ever did know her you know? No, that's not true. No, I do know her. I know lots about her. I have lots of memories of my mom. I do, I remember now that I remember lots of stuff about her. I remember things all the time, like that time like when... oh shit, darn that stupid writer. But, really that's not the point. She acted like she didn't even know me. It was really weird and scary.' Belle mutters as she awakens. She wonders if Reilly has been trying to turn her mom against her.

As she opens her eyes slowly, rubbing the sleep from them, she's startled to see in front of her, Auntie Hope snoring away, with poor slumbering Timothy's tail rolled up in her curling iron.)

Timothy! Oh my gosh! Timmy, wake up!

Timothy: Hmm, wha? (He rolls over and winces as his tail gets pinched a little tighter into the curling iron.) What the bloody hell? Help, me, don't just bloody flop around like that!

(After Belle has freed his fluffy tail, Timothy moans as he sits up on his haunches and revisits yesterday's blue nail polish nightmare. His tiny fingernails and toenails are as blue as Belle's eyes.)

Hope: Mumbling in her sleep, her twirling fork suspiciously absent from its usual home tucked securely between her ample breasts.) I feel pretty... I feel pretty... I feel pretty and witty and woooo... I'll get every one of you Marlena-loving... who knew I could play baccarat... I'm so beautiful... touch me... feel me... see meeeeee....

Oh my gawd, what is she saying? I can't understand her. Hey, Timothy, let's get out of here before she wakes up and makes us sit through three hours of her trying on gowns like yesterday. That was like the pits.

Timothy: (Whispering) Righty-o Belle. That was indeed an experience I shan't care to relive. And we've still got immense quantities of that ghastly blue nail polish to dabble about for this Immunity Challenge. You promised I could have a meeting with your father if I helped you out remember?

Well, yeah... sure Timmy, if we can find him. (Belle and Timothy tiptoe past Hope Less, and still slumbering Nancy and Susan, as well as barely awake Bob whom they hadn't seen lurking with his camera near the entrance to the tent.)

Bye, Bobby. We're heading out to wash up and start the day. If you're still around when they wake up, could you tell these guys to like get busy with the blue nail polish? Cuz umm like I don't see them doing much with it. [Bob nods, and thinks he doubts that will happen. With the BigBadAss away for a time, he doesn't see why it's all that important to watch these morons for another whole day painting every blade of grass on this island with blue nail polish. It was bad enough that he had to finally allow a persistent Baby Belle to paint his beard with the noxious stuff.]

(As they scurry out of the tent, Timothy slips in a puddle of mud, and goes flying through the air and plops right into their bucket of blue nail polish. Belle squeals and runs to save him from drowning in it. She pulls him out by his tail, and the British squirrel crosses his arms and spits blue nail polish into the dirt below.)

Oh, Timothy. You're beautiful!