While my assistant (the filthy human
with opposable thumbs who shall remain nameless) compiles the data on the new
batch of victims, er contestants, why don't I take this time to introduce myself
to the poor souls who weren't lucky enough to meet my acquaintance the last time
around.
I was born in the outback of my beloved
Australia, just outside of Queensland, to my dear old mum. Unfortunately,
shortly after this picture was taken, mum skipped town with a shady character
selling velvet Elvis paintings by the roadside. He thought she was "a cute
little doggie." Never did find out what happened to mum or the poor sap
she most likely devoured. I wonder if anyone is selling velvet paintings
of him now? Well, that's neither here nor there... point is, I was
alone and shivering in the Australian sun.
The next part of my life is a little
fuzzy... I remember shacking up with a kangaroo (one hot little sheila, let me
tell you!), who took care of my every need, if you know what I mean, and I think
you do. She was one talented little pickpocket and was able to provide me
with whatever it was I needed to grow into the strapping canine you see before
you today. Unfortunately, she met a tragic end that involved a bungee jump gone
terribly wrong. I don't want to talk about that either.
Mourning the passing of my beloved
K-Roo, I went on a walkabout as I'm prone to do. It wasn't long before I
stumbled on a group of Americans playing some sort of "game show" where they had
to outwit, outplay, outlast, yadda yadda yadda... All I know is I was
provided with a feast of a meal once a week for nearly three months. Now,
I'm not one of those dingoes that looks a free dinner in the mouth, so when I
heard those crazy Americans were packing up and moving on to Africa, I did
everything imaginable to make sure I was there too (including some things with
Jeff Probst that I'm not too proud of, but I did get to pee on his head more
than once! Ahh... the little things in life...)
Africa turned out to be less than
satisfying. The Survivors were stuck in a thorn thicket with very little
food and hardly any exercise. Now any sheep herder worth his salt will
tell you that doesn't make for very good mutton! And as if that wasn't bad
enough, I stared being tailed by this crazy hyena named Hufasa. Damn thing
drove me nuts. And after weeks of measly meals and less than gratifying
drama, I just couldn't take anymore. Plus, there was no way I was going to
try and get Probst to help me again. That man is insatiable!
Anyhoo, after a three season walkabout,
I was able to shake the blue meanies. I found myself in a beautiful oasis,
surrounded by luscious ladies in veils, when a weird monkey crawled up my back
and whispered in my ear "They're on a pirate island... and they're making them
walk the plank..." Even the lovely ladies and their gossamer veils
couldn't keep me away. I always thought an eye patch was becoming.
So here we are.
In the Pearl Islands.
Let the feasting begin!!!!!!
