So anyway. Here we are at the merge. No more official teams, and immunity will be every donkeyfish for themselves. Whoever lasts longer lives another day, and the rest of us? Maybe not so much.
There's just one thing to do, y'all: Survive.
Or, if you aren't in the game, mess up everybody's chances. Come one, come all. Oh, and this will probably be the last rebuy of the series, for what it is worth.
Survive Donkey Island 007
Full Tilt Poker
$1 + $1 Rebuy
March 6, 2011
9:30 PM EST
The Donkey Island Diary of Julius_Goat
Day 12: I think there's a general level of jubilation in the Donkey camp at this point. Euphoria, perhaps. First of all, I'm totally healed from eating some sort of yellowish fungus I found at the base of a palm tree four days ago, and am no longer hallucinating. We've been on a regular tear through the immunity challenges and now are looking at at least a 2 person lead going into any merger.
"It'll be a FOUR person lead if we win tonight," crows Jordan, whose scalp is finally healed.
"Which we will," I say.
"Jordan has a demon in him," a passing monkey whispers to me. "You have to take his brain out to fix him. Open his head with a sharp rock."
Huh. It's possible that I was premature in diagnosing myself free of all hallucination.
|If this is your adviser, you probably should think about making a change.|
Child's play, I know, but unfortunately I'm still as weak as a kitten and unable to climb the tree. I collapse in a heap, panting. One by one I see our tribe succumbing to the hazards of palm tree trickery, while the Fish doggedly hang in there; not too far up, but still working at it. Eventually, it's only the rawheaded kid Jordan still in the game for the Donkeys; he's near the nuts but not as close as Joe C. Very and this guy who looks like a snapping turtle. Jordan's doing well and making up ground, when suddenly this crazy person bashes his head with a sharp rock, killing him immediately.
Oh yeah, that was me. Oops.
So I am writing this in our camp's makeshift prison, which was made specifically to house me. They're deciding whether or not to let me have any of the Jordan stew, and it doesn't sound like they are. Also, they're thinking about killing me with sharp sticks. I really need to stop listening to what monkeys say.