February 23, 2001
Issue # 35

CASTAWAY: THE FINAL EPISODE
by Grendel

Ok, sorry to have kept you all waiting for the cliffhanger ending…without further delay I would like to take you back to the Island, back to the story, and back to the terror….

MMX was becoming increasingly upset as I tried to talk to him. He began to slip back into Spanish…Finally all he could say was “Donde Esta La Pharmacia”. He grabbed me angrily and kept asking me, over and over. I was shocked but I refused to argue; wordless I pointed off into the thick jungle. MMX released me and ran off, once again shouting his mantra “Donde Esta La Pharmacia”.

I knew that I had to return to the beach side camp, night was falling and I needed firewood. Derek and I quietly slipped through the thick wood as the shadows lengthened on the ground and the stars began to peak out from behind the canopy of the setting sun. The jungle was quiet, no animals chirped. All I could hear was the sound of my feet moving over the rotting leaves on the floor.

After what seemed like an eternity the jungle began to thin out as we approached the beach. A few hundred yards ahead of us, a fire had been lit. I dropped to my belly and crawled closer. Jason was asleep and Carol was still tied up. MMX was busy getting in a quick workout on the coconut machines; apparently, his madness had protected him attack.

As cold as it was, it was far safer in the jungle. Derek and I kept taking turns at watch all night until at least we saw the sun begin to rise. As the sky grew bright, Jason rose from his slumber and headed off to the gym muttering about his morning cardio. I watched as he clambered atop a pile of sticks and rocks and begin to peddle his phantom stationary bike. Speechless, I saw him take a rock from his pocket and hold it to his ear. He began to talk out loud, carrying on a long conversation with his imaginary friend and then it hit me. He thought he was talking on a cell phone. This was getting worse and worse; Jason had become that one person we all dread…the cell phone in the gym guy. Death would be a better fate then this for him. I was tired, I was angry, I was losing muscle. I couldn’t afford to spend the rest of my life skulking in the shadows of the jungle around me. I had to do something. But what?

As the sun climbed high in the sky I saw yet another horrific site. Apparently the plane crash had not killed TBM, in fact, he seemed perfectly alive and well except for the fact he was in a large wooden cage. There was writing in the sand in front of the cage. I squinted against the sunlight glinting off the ocean…it was, no, it couldn’t be…It was nutritional information…

Soylent Myoplex Green:
          Servings per box: 12
          Calories per serving: 2,800
          Calories from fat: 1,800
          Protein: 250grams
          Carbohydrates: 0 grams
          Fat: 200 grams

It became perfectly clear what was to happen. TBM was a post workout meal; with no glutamine and no creatine, Jason and MMX had only one choice…resort to human flesh.

I needed to get TBM out of that cage, no matter the cost. I crept back into the tree line, circling the camp on the beach until I was sure that the blinding sun blocked me from view. I picked up a jagged piece of rock and advanced on TBM’s cage. As I approached, he began to stir. I reached through the cage and cupped his mouth while I sawed through the palm fronds that held him. Every sound caused my heart to skip beats, out there, beyond the shimmering sunlight, were 2 hungry beasts. I did not want to be found here with their meal replacement.

I pulled the weakened TBM back into the safety of the woods. No sooner had the shadows wrapped around us then an angry bellow split the quiet. TBM’s escape had been noticed and muscle growth was not being fueled. I knew that our time was running out. Derek, a stunned TBM, and I crouched against the base of a tree and discussed our options. We were running out of food, had no drugs and worse… an anadrol-filled monster stalking the base camp. This was bad.

I proposed making a run for it, luring Jason and MMX into the jungle by mimicking the cry of a fitness model; TBM’s girlish voice would be perfect for this. Unfortunately, without clomid, we knew that their sex drive would have been destroyed, making our plan useless. Food was another important bait…but what could we…

TBM whined but the choice was clear, it had to be him. So, always the trooper, he agreed to lure Jason and MMX away from camp long enough for Derek and I to sneak in, rescue Carol, and hopefully manage to slip some sleeping powder into whatever food supplies we could find. Derek had crushed several bright lizards into a thick paste that he assured me was a potent GH releaser in the body and converted naturally to GHB. I didn’t feel like arguing.

Soon we heard the crashing of giants through the woods and we knew they were hot pursuit of TBM. Our only hope was in his cardio; he had insisted he did hours daily, soon we would find out the truth behind his words…

Base Camp was empty, the fire smoldering and occasionally wood would snap and explode, sending sparks into the cool night air. Carol slept, still tied to her altar. Derek went to cut her free while I looked for some food to drug. There…some coconuts were piled by the dying fire. As I moved towards them I felt a large, soft, squishy hand clamp down on my shoulder. I was spun around, directly into the face of Jason. Behind him stood TBM and MMX, grinning madly. It had been a trap…

Now it was my turn in the cage. I knew that the next workout would be my demise. I tried to stall them, I tried to tell them about the new T-man once a week workout. But it was useless, they were doing a double split and I was fucked. MMX and TBM gathered wood and built the fire while Jason stalked around in circles by the calf raise machine…

Suddenly the night air was light by an immense shaft of light and the air was filled with the sounds of heavy machinery. It was a helicopter, emblazoned on the side were the words DEA. I was saved. When Jason saw the DEA choppers arriving he panicked and began to smash the ground with a large log. Suddenly he toppled to the ground, clutching his neck.

The rest was a blur as DEA agents sedated MMX and TBM and released me from the cage. They said they had anally implanted a tracking beacon in Mr. Meuller that was designed to transmit his location if he ever broke 300 pounds. Apparently his island workouts had succeeded and he had put on a few pounds, triggered the beacon, and rescuing us all…

I awoke in a pool of sweat, my sheets wrapped around me.

Well that’s its for me. I hope you enjoyed this little series. Next week I will be visiting Jason and Carol in California and hopefully having a good time (and not being kept in a cage…although no promises have been made as of yet).

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