And Part Two! This series owes a debt to amosgrove’s sadly incomplete WSL World Cup series which I have to acknowledge; hopefully, I’ll be able to finish this series, though being this far behind with the introduction probably isn’t a good sign!
This story is purely a work of fiction. The story does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.
As the adverts faded, the camera returned to Lana and Grace nervously awaiting Adeline’s decision. She was smiling confidently, with wasn’t really a good sign.
“Welcome back to the Messy Gunge Grand Prix! Before the break, Lana – who really hasn’t been having the greatest of luck in this show so far – attempted to raise for a second time to retain her prediction of Jenna Coleman, despite having failed the challenge. Now, due to an oversight, there’s nothing in the rules about this specific situation, so I’ve had to make a specific, one-time-only ruling, and I think I have a solution that most of you will enjoy, and all of you will accept.”
She turned to Grace. “Since you won this challenge, you can, if you so wish, get a blank slate. If you fold here, I’ll allow you to freely select another nomination at no penalty. If you choose to match, however, even if you win the challenge and keep Miss Coleman as your prediction, you’ll have to take the same raised score on her as Lana has – the same if you lose, on her opponent.”
Grace considered things. “I mean… that almost seems as if you’re trying to encourage me to fold. I don’t really want to risk putting that sort of stake up on a single prediction, since even though I’m sure Jenna Coleman will get through this round, I’m not that confident that she’ll win the whole contest. But… I have chicken poop in my hair. I don’t want to just cede this whole thing to Lana after I got chicken poop in my hair.”
Adeline chuckled. “You don’t actually have to decide until you hear the whole terms for Lana, which I think will make things easier for you-” at that, Lana started to look a little uneasy. ” – since Lana has already chickened out of this prediction once, for her to raise won’t be as simple as just saying so. To prove the strength of her convictions, she’ll have to complete a special solo challenge of my choice.”
Adeline’s voice became incredibly silky as she turned to look at Lana. “And since we have the box right here already… Your challenge is keep your head in the box until I tell you that you can get out. And since you’ve already raised… if you refuse now, or fail to complete the challenge, we’ve already upped your stake, so your nominee will be Jenna Coleman’s opponent with a doubled punishment multiplier. And, as per the standard raise rules, all of this comes before Grace even has to make her own choice to match or fold.”
Lana now looked genuinely horrified, and clearly regretted her hasty words. But it was clear to her that there was no way at this point for her to get a better deal. She turned to look at the contraption.
“Hasn’t it already activated though… I mean, there’s already chicken manure in the bottom of that box…”
“It’ll make it a comfy place to rest your head!” Adeline said. “And don’t worry – there’s still plenty more left in the trough!”
Lana swallowed, looking nauseous. Hesitantly, as if sleepwalking, she sat down on the bench, and replaced her goggles before turning to recline. At the last moment she stopped, as if trying to think of something else to add, but then screwed up her face into a miserable pout and put her head carefully into the box – groaning with disgust as she felt the back of her head make contact with the unmentionable slime now slathered across its base. She closed her eyes tightly, unwilling to see her doom coming, and waited for it to arrive.
And waited.
With a… for lack of a better phrase, shit-eating grin, Adeline pulled a small remote control out of her dress, and displayed it to the audience before handing it over to Grace with quiet ceremony. Grace stared at it for a moment, biting her lip.
Lana’s patience ran out. She opened her eyes. “Ugh, seriously, is this going to be-”
And Grace pushed the button.
Unfortunately for Lana, it seemed that the earlier deployment of the pipe system had merely served to clear it of any bubbles – this time there was no telltale gurgle to give advanced warning.
It came out of the pipe in a sudden flood, a vicious downpour flowing directly into Lana’s face. She managed to clamp her mouth shut – albeit not quite in time – and suppress her impulse to scream, which would have made things far worse. Her arms and legs flailed and kicked in some futile instinct, but she managed to remain in place as the grotesque torrent streamed directly onto her face.
After what seemed at eternity, the torrent slowed to a trickle before stopping, and Lana listened for Adeline telling her she could get out – she wasn’t about to risk going through this only to fail the challenge on a technicality – but the only thing she could hear was the laughter of both Adeline and Grace. She considered saying something, but the thought of opening her mouth at the moment was repulsive. She was uncomfortably aware that she would need to breathe soon, and wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest.
“Okay, Lana,” came Adeline’s comment at last, struggling around her laughter “You pass…” and with no hesitation Lana was out of there with a shot, huddling on the bench as far as she could get from the box as she frantically wiped her face clear sufficiently to make a breath – if not pleasant, at least not completely horrible. The moment she did, she wished that she hadn’t – the smell! She retched miserably, huddled in on herself, as far from the elegant and confident lawyer as could be imagined.
And she was a sight! The stuff totally coated her head all over, with the goggles having protected her at all; some of had even splashed onto her jacket as it made its way into the tray. She removed her goggles, the picture of misery.
Adeline stopped laughing long enough to turn to Grace. “Well, I think that was a sufficient demonstration of Lana’s commitment – do you want to match or fold?”
Grace giggled. “It’s certainly made me feel a little better about the bit of poo I had in my hair at least – it could have been much, much worse, right Lana?
“But I think I’m not willing to push my luck with another challenge – I mean, I wouldn’t even want to stand too close to Lana right now! – so I’ll fold. It may not be Doctor Who, but I’ll take Padme – Natalie Portman – as my prediction.”
Adeline handed her a towel before turning to Lana.
“And congratulations, Lana – you get to keep your prediction of Jenna Coleman – I just hope that you think it was worth the price! Go and get cleaned up while I welcome our next contestant!” As ever, Lana was handed a single towel, and stared at it in shock for a moment, almost seeming as if she might burst into tears at the absurd insult of having to clean herself with such a pathetically derisory item.
Ignoring her utterly, Adeline turned to return to the front of the stage as the fanfare blared yet again.
The girl who appeared this time was a pigtailed brunette with a cheerfully dim smile, dressed in a shaggy pink jacket over a particularly low-cut lacy black top that exposed an impressive amount of cleavage; the look was finished off with denim pedal pushers and rose gold wedges. She waved to the audience before making her way towards the front of the stage.
“Hello contestant eleven, and welcome to the Messy Gunge Grand Prix. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”
“Hi everyone! I’m Jak, a part-time student and a full-time party-goer, and I’m here because some of my course-mates told me that it would be great fun and an awesome time!”
“Friends of yours, or…? Never mind. Who are your nominees, Jak?”
Jak grinned. “I didn’t recognise a lot of the people on there since you didn’t have anyone famous from Love Island or The Only Way is Essex or anything, so I just picked the ones whose names I liked! I chose Felicia Day, Savannah May, and Marisha Ray, because they all rhymed!”
She giggled. “Then I chose Lzzy Hale and Joanna Jędrzejczyk, because their names are funny, and Selena Gomez, because I remember she used to date Justin Bieber, so she must be super-lucky!”
Megan interjected. “Ah… there’s actually a problem here that I wasn’t expecting.”
Adeline’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? What have you done?”
“It’s not my fault!” Megan protested. “I didn’t think this rule would be relevant yet, so I thought I could explain it for the next round! Obviously, there’s no point in a contestant having both of the celebrities in a match-up, but I didn’t think anyone would actually select them!”
Adeline sighed. “Looks like you’ve… messed up, Megan. What’s the rule as it’s written?”
“If at any point a contestant has as their prediction two celebrities matched up in that round, they have to pick who they think will win, getting a double-multiplier on that celebrity and ceding the other. And Jak has just chosen both Marisha Ray and Savannah May, who are competing in the first round.”
“So she has to pick which of them will win… does she get to make another pick?”
Megan shrugged. “Well, in later rounds there are rules for allowing surviving contestants to get more celebrities, but they specifically don’t apply in the first round. You could just let her have another pick, since this is an unplanned circumstance.”
Adeline thought about it. “No, I don’t think so – she can stick with five. And don’t think you’ve gotten away with messing up like this either, Megan.”
She turned to face Jak, and then blinked. “Uh, did you follow that conversation at all?”
Jak shook her head, still grinning vacantly. Adeline sighed. “Okay, you have to pick which of Savannah May or Marisha Ray you think will win. Can you do that?”
Jak thought about it for a second before shaking her head again. Adeline covered her face with her hand. “Right, of course. Okay… uh… pick the one that you think has the funniest name.”
Jak nodded brightly, and devoted herself to this task with an almost comical amount of effort. “Um… it’s really hard… but I think it’s Savannah May. Saaaa-vaaaa-naaaaah.” She giggled.
Adeline took a deep breath. “Very good. You have a double-penalty placed on Savannah May. Please make your way over to the contestants’ area… if that’s not beyond your abilities. Next contestant. Please.”
The fanfare blared. The next girl to appear was also showing a lot of skin like Jak, but in a very different way – this was intensely toned, light brown skin, displayed by the workout wear that the athletic girl was wearing – tight shorts and a sports bra under an open sports jacket, all in shades of blue and yellow that were clearly those of her team. She strode to the front of the stage looking confident and serious, curly halo of light brown hair around her head.
“Welcome to the Messy GGP, contestant twelve. I’m guessing that you’re here to win?”
The girl nodded, entirely seriously. “Of course. What’s the point of doing anything except to win? My name’s Nikki – I’m a Sports Science student and student athlete, but I’ve been competing since I was a child. This contest of yours is no different.”
“Well, I’m not sure that this is the type of contest that you’d be used to, and you might not find it as easy to win as all that. Who are your nominations, Nikki?”
“Obviously, I’ve chosen winners – athletes capable of doing what it takes to succeed. Alex Scott MBE, Madison Keys, Michelles Wie and Waterson, Anastasia Yankova, and Paige VanZant.”
“Very good. There’s no problem with any of these, Megan? Then if you can make your way over the contestants’ area please, Nikki.”
Once again, the fanfare blared, and a young woman leapt through, banging her head to the beat, her moves causing her shoulder-length dark green hair to fly every which way. She grinned at the audience, revealing her pierced lower lip, and made made her way to the front of the stage. She was dressed in a leather jacket and skirt over, respectively, a fishnet top and a black bra tight enough to demonstrate that the lip wasn’t her only body piercing, and ripped red tights.
“Unlucky contestant thirteen – but unlucky for you, or for your opponents? Why are here on the Messy GGP?”
“I’m Raven, lead singer of Sex Rampage, and also a student, I guess. I’m here to get some exposure for our band.”
Adeline laughed. “Well, I can certainly promise you exposure! Who are your celebrity predictions, Raven?”
“There’s a lot of great singers in the GGP this year, so I’m putting my predictions on them: Elize Ryd, Simone Simons, Suzuka Nakamoto, Hayley Williams, Floor Jansen… and just for her famously impressive vocal range, Mariah Carey.”
“No problems with any of them,” Megan observed. “Maybe you’ll get the chance to sing for us later in the contest, Raven!”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” said Adeline. “That’s not really the type of exposure I was thinking of for her. We’ll see more of you later, Raven. Time for our next contestant!”
The fanfare blared. The next young woman to appear on stage looked just as serious as Nikki did, but otherwise had blonde hair cut boyishly short, and was wearing an open flannel shirt over cargo trousers and a T-shirt displaying the message ‘My favourite cocktail is vodka and male tears’. She stomped to the front of the stage.
“This whole competition is misogynistic and objectifying and should be banned!” she shouted. “It’s nothing more than a typical male expression of anti-women hate, and all of you women taking part are traitors to their gender!”
Adeline paused. “I’m a little confused – aren’t you taking part in this yourself as well?”
“Obviously, I’m only taking part to discredit and take down this patriarchal institution from within. My name is Octavia, and I’m a gender studies student and proud member of the feminist society at the University of Sussex.”
“Thank you. Are you willing to share your predictions with us, or would that be some kind of patriarchal imposition?”
“I don’t think that’s very funny, but I’ll let you know who my choices are anyway. I choose Geri Halliwell, for representing Girl Power, Katy Perry, for her excellent last album which made many vital political points, Emma Stone, Scarlett Johannson and Cate Blanchett, for being exceptional actresses able to demonstrate the astonishing range of possibilities that all women are capable of, and Shappi Khorsandi, for her excellent comedy.”
“Okay, then. Are you happy to make your way over to the contestants’ area, or do you need a special section of your own? In any case, let’s move on to the next contestant!”
With another blare of that dreadful fanfare, the next contestant made her way onto stage. This was a young black woman with her black hair in braids, dressed casually in jeans and a blue jacket over a striped top. She stepped to the front of the stage, smiling uneasily.
“Welcome, contestant fifteen! Introduce yourself, please!”
“Thank you, Adeline. My name is Emmy, and I’m a student, politician, and activist – and a feminist, as well. I’d just like to say that people such as Octavia don’t represent all of us – and while of course I don’t have the right to say that she’s doing feminism ‘wrong’ or can’t self-describe herself as one, she’s very much unrepresentative of the many brilliant and inspiring young women who I’ve had the opportunity to meet in the course of my work-”
“Thank you, Emmy, but this isn’t the hustings – can you move on to your predictions, please?”
“Of course, Adeline – and I’m happy to do so. While I obviously admire Octavia’s forthrightness and conviction, I did find some of her choices surprising, since her nominations were not exactly the inspiring celebrities I myself would have chosen. I myself have chosen Beyonce, of course, for being an icon and an inspiration, Demi Lovato, who with her forthright honesty about her struggles I think is in many ways a better pop representative than Katy Perry, Camille Hyde and Jodie Whitaker, each of whom have taken proud steps forward as representatives, being the first African-American Pink Ranger and the first female Doctor Who, respectively, Fan Bingbing, to demonstrate my support for an incredibly talented young woman who has been targeted unjustly by an authoritarian regime-”
“Very good, thank you, but we don’t have all night – can you just give us your last pick without an entire speech to justify why?”
“Of course, Adeline, if that’s the limits of the time allowed. Bebe Rexha.”
Adeline blinked. “Bebe Rexha? But… why… oh, never mind. Please go and soapbox your fellow contestants instead.”
“Ah, one moment,” Megan interrupted. “Before Emmy does so, one of her choices is a conflict. Jodie Whitaker was already selected by Grace.”
Adeline paused. “I must admit, I’d entirely forgotten that it was possible to steal from anyone except Lana. Are you prepared to raise, Emmy?”
“I am always prepared to stand up for my beliefs, Adeline, but at the same time we must recognise that politics is the art of the possible, and hence the importance of compromise. There is a necessary struggle to reconcile these conflicting requirements of-”
“Raise. Or. Not.”
“… Then I raise.”
Martial music! The camera focused in on Grace, who it seemed had somehow managed to clean the majority of the chicken poop out of her hair, and was wearing her scarf once more. She grinned. “I’m not letting the Thirteenth Doctor go without a fight! I match!”
Waverly leapt onto stage, smiling cheerfully. “Oh, the next game is great! This is ‘Touch of Defeat!’- please both of you remove your shoes and socks.”
Grace and Emmy groaned at the pun, but complied. Grace, obviously keen to keep the theme going, was wearing thick blue socks patterned to resemble the TARDIS; Emmy was wearing bright red ankle socks under her pink trainers. She wriggled her toes nervously in the cold air.
“I’m sure you might have some idea of what this game will involve,” Waverly began. “Grace might have the advantage here, since this is another test of your senses just like the pie challenge you won earlier. We’re not testing your tastebuds, this time, but your sense of touch.”
“Just as with ‘Taster Session’, it’s best of three – slide your feet into a series of wellies which already contain a mystery substance, and be the first to identify what you’ve just put your foot into. Are you both ready?”
Emmy giggled helplessly, and Grace grinned – both of them certainly seemed to be taking the challenge in better spirits than Lana had. They looked at each other and grinned, and slid their feet into the first pair of wellies simultaneously. Emmy immediately squealed.
“Ew! It’s cold and gross! I think it’s baked beans?”
“No,” Grace said, and started giggling. “It’s spaghetti hoops – I’ve got one caught on my little toe!”
“Grace is correct!” Waverly announced. The girls withdrew them feet from the wellies – both of them laughing as they saw that Grace did indeed have a spaghetti hoop somehow looped over one of her little toes – and wiped their feet dry with towels provided as stagehands whisked a new pair of boots forward. Emmy was first to wipe her feet, and stood drumming her toes nervously as she waited for Grace to join her.
Grace was ready before long, and once again they slipped on the wellies at the same time. This time it was Grace who cried out.
“Oh, that’s jelly… or custard? It’s so many textures!”
“It’s trifle!” Emmy exclaimed. “You put trifle in there! What a waste!”
Grace laughed as Waverly confirmed that this time it was Emmy who had guessed correctly. She was having fun, and she didn’t really mind if Emmy won, since unlike Lana she seemed to be a nice girl with her heart in the right place. She carefully wiped her feet off for the second time, only pausing to fling a bit of sponge finger in Emmy’s rough direction – it missed completely, but Emmy laughed and pretended to cower anyway.
Both of them stood up as they prepared for the deciding round. They looked at each other. Emmy mouthed “3…2…” and the two girls stepped into the wellies at the same time.
They both screamed. “Ugh/Yuck – this is dog/cat food!”
Waverly laughed. “Well, under normal circumstances, I’d have accepted either answer, but since you both answered at the same time, we’ll use it as a tiebreaker! I can confirm that what you are both standing in right now is delicious Winalot – duck & rabbit in jelly to be precise – making our winner Grace!”
Grace cheered, and Emmy gave her a round of applause, grinning at her. They both stepped out the wellingtons with a squelch, grimacing comically as they did so.
“So who’s my nomination, Adeline?” Emmy asked as she cleaned the dog food off of her feet.
“As per the normal rules, you get Jodie Whitaker’s opponent in this round, which in this case is the lovely Christina Hendricks!”
Emmy nodded – she enjoyed Mad Men, so this wasn’t so bad. She and Grace made their way over to the contestants’ area together, barefoot and carrying their shoes, chatting and laughing as they went.
The fanfare blared for the final time. The next girl didn’t appear – until she suddenly stepped through. Poised, dressed in a long black skirt and red embroidered bodice, along with flowers laced through her long pale blonde hair, she swept dramatically to the front of the stage.
“I have no wish to steal your lines or thunder, Adeline,” she began. “But there are a few things I must address forthwith. While politics girl may have been hesitated to describe Octavia as ‘not-a-feminist’, I shall do so with no hesitation whatsoever. I would love to claim that this is because I, a thespian, recognise a similar student of the performing arts – and Octavia’s performance was indeed magnificent, if perhaps somewhat derivative! – but I must confess in truth, I am also a student at the University of Sussex, and I remember Ms Octavia as the conservative evangelical attention whore who attempted to get our play shut down last year on the grounds that it supposedly outraged public decency, the censorious bi-”
“Thank you, yes, there will time for all of this later – could you first introduce yourself to our audience?”
“Ah! Alas, in my eagerness to sate my desire for vengeance, I have neglected my audience. You may call me Fay, student, thespian, dramatiste!” She bowed deeply towards the audience.
“Excellent,” said Adeline. “Now that we have done that, could we please, briefly, have your predictions?”
“If it’s your wish, I won’t grace you with a monologue at this time,” Fay replied. “I have naturally enough chosen the finest thespians in the contest: Keeley Hawes, Anne Hathaway, Bryce Dallas Howard, Cate Blanchett, Christina Ricci, and Kate Beckinsale. A fine selection, I think you’ll agree.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “And by pure coincidence, one of your choices just happens to be one already selected by Octavia.”
Fay’s eyes widened. “Ah! Pure serendipity, I promise you. And before you ask, I am indeed bound and determined to rise to this challenge before me, and face the lady Octavia in in whatever contest you decide – is she prepared to do the same?”
The cameras focused on Octavia, sitting in the contestants’ area, and no longer very uncertain. “Typical of a patriarchal game, to make women fight like this for their amusement! Wasn’t it said that there’s a special place in hell for women who fail to support other women? You shouldn’t be challenging me on this, Fay!”
Fay just laughed – though, this being Fay, the laugh she decided to make would have been more appropriate for a robber baron in a melodrama. “Are you prepared to face me, Octavia? Be thee wary, for I shall unmask thee for the villain that thou art!”
Octavia’s eyes darted from side-to-side. “This is ridiculous. I’m absolutely a real feminist, for real, and I’ll prove it by beating this whore in the next challenge! Match!”
Waverly gleefully shrieked as she bounded onto stage. “And this is the best challenge ever! Since we’re almost at the end of the show, and all of the contestants have now been introduced, they even get to join in! Octavia, Fay, go backstage and get kitted up; the rest of you meet me in the playing area, and I’ll explain more!
“The game is simple. Each of you will be given water bombs filled with slime, and your task is to throw them into the goal area whole and unbroken. Whichever of you gets the most will get a bonus in the next round! Of course, once you see what the goal area is, you might find yourselves a little tempted to throw them a little harder!”
Octavia and Fay plodded back onto the stage, and it was immediately obvious what Waverly was referring to. Each of the girls was wearing a large silicone bowl around their waist, attached to their shoulders by braces. Fay somehow contrived to make even this look dramatic, while Octavia was starting to look slightly worried, looking particularly vulnerable without her plaid overshirt.
“The winner of this challenge will be the contestant who has the most unbroken slime bombs in her bowl after all of them have been thrown. Now, since you’re going to be quite reliant on the good will of your fellow contestants in this challenge, is there anything that either of you would like to say to them before we begin?”
Octavia opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then bit her lip. “Sisters, don’t let this… agent of the patriarchy fool you into turning against me. We should be standing together to work against this objectification-”
Fay chuckled. “I must admit that I find your commitment to this role impressive, Octavia, especially given what this contest will ultimately involve. How far does your devotion to this little satyr-play go, I wonder? I certainly can’t imagine that you watched the WSL World Cup, prudish little sex kitten that you are.”
She turned to the other contestants. “My fellows! Do as you must, and let us see how the gods resolve our fates!”
Waverly nodded. “Okay, that was definitely weird. Go!”
It was immediate pandemonium.
Slime bombs immediately began flying at the two girls, and whether deliberately or not, very few of them landed safely in the bowls. Katye and Lana – presumably just glad to see someone else get messy – seemed to be throwing the bombs at both girls with the deliberate intention of sliming them; Raven, for her part, seemed to be focusing her efforts at Octavia in particular, and unlike the other two she actually had decent aim. One throw impacted against Octavia’s chest with stinging force, splattering slime across her t-shirt and causing it to cling tightly; another hit the side of head and splattered goo across her short hair as she screeched.
In fact, Octavia, was probably the favoured target – whether for being a stereotypical feminist or a parody of one – which was actually working out in her favour, though she didn’t realise it. A number of bombs of the bombs thrown at her actually managed to bounce off without bursting and fall unbroken into her bowl.
Octavia may have been too busy wiping the slime from her face and attempting to stop her increasingly soaked t-shirt from clinging too lewdly to her chest to notice that she was actually winning the challenge, but Fay didn’t. Apparently deciding to annoy the other contestants into targeting her instead of her faux-feminist opponent, she began to declaim a monologue in her loudest voice.
It worked – she immediately became the prime target – and perhaps due to previous experience from audiences throwing things at her, she managed to continue her obnoxious soliloquy even as slime coated her body and coloured her pale hair, with her bodice – already somewhat precarious – began to threaten to shift floorwards. Petra and Hana, noticing this, redoubled their efforts in that direction in the hopes of dislodging it entirely.
Given a moment’s respite, Fay was attempting to stop her now-sodden t-shirt from clinging too lewdly to her chest, breathing heavily. Emmy called out to her.
“Is what Fay said true? Are you some kind of… agent provocateur, not any kind of feminist at all?”
Next to her, Denisse snickered. “She’s certainly pretty provocative in that t-shirt!”
Octavia blushed. “Shut your pleb mouth, you immigrant slut! Of course I’m not a bloody man-hating feminist, you stupid socialist-”
Emmy caught Grace’s eye over Octavia’s shoulder, and nodded. Apparently stepping into dog food together had been an effective bonding experience. Once again moving in harmony, the two girls began to hurl their slime bombs at Octavia’s head from both sides simultaneously, cutting off her tirade with a scream. She stumbled backwards, slime exploding off her, and stepped onto one particularly poorly aimed slime bomb, courtesy of Jak. Her foot turned underneath her, and she tumbled.
As she hit the floor, she felt the slime bombs that she had managed to collect successfully explode against her back, the pooled slime coating her and even soaking through her trousers and into her underwear. She groaned in disgust.
And like that, the challenge was over, with Fay the clear winner. She, of course, took a dramatic bow, once again almost dislodging her bodice, and smiled as she readjusted it. Octavia, thoroughly drenched in slime stepped forward miserably as Waverly announced the results.
“As the loser of the challenge, Octavia has been assigned Lexi Thompson as her nominee, at a double penalty. The winner of the bonus is, unsurprisingly, Nikki – you’ll receive an advantage before the next round. Back to you, Adeline!”
Adeline stood at the front of the stage, smirking slightly.
“Now, that’s almost the end of the show – but before we leave you, there’s just time for me to explain how the forfeits will work for round one. As ever, I’ve got Megan here to help me.”
At her desk, Megan looked confused. “Um… I don’t really know anything about how the forfeits are decided, Adeline. I’m just in charge of-”
“Don’t worry, we don’t need you to explain. Come and stand with me – you’re going to help in another way. You get to be the demonstration!”
Megan’s eyes widened, and she tried to protest.
“Ah ah ah! Unfortunately for you, over the course of this show, you’ve messed up a few times – so I think it’s fair that you get messed up in turn!
“First of all, you took a little longer to describe the rules than I would have liked, losing focus as you so often do… that’s one point, the equivalent of one of our contestants losing one nomination. One out of six isn’t really so bad, and shows pretty good judgment – they’ll lose the chance at the bonus for getting through unscathed, but get immunity from any celebrity-specific messy penalty. So good news, Megan!”
Megan did not look notably reassured.
“Next you ended up arguing with Becca, our cheerleader contestant. I’m afraid to say that that’s a second point for you! Luckily for you, in this round we’re going easy on our contestants – two is still a pretty good score, so there’s no penalty in this round for just reaching this threshold. Our contestants will no longer be protected from any bonus punishments, but that doesn’t apply in your case.
“Three points is where things start to get interesting. At that point, our contestant will have lost half of their nominations – essentially performing no better than chance. And unfortunately for you, Megan, you definitely got three points – you had to explain the rules for challenging during the game, completely interrupting the flow!”
“That’s not fair!” Megan protested. “It would have taken even longer to explain the rules at the start if I’d explained everything then!”
“Remember Rule Zero, Megan!” Adeline turned to the audience. “Now, any contestant who gets three points will first have to strip one item of clothing…”
Megan’s eyes widened for a moment, before she looked down at her shoes.
“Shoes do count as an item – but only one for both, same as socks, tights or stockings.”
The nerdy indian girl swiftly removed her sneakers and stood back upright, hoping that that would be all.
“…And along of course with any additional specific punishment, there’s also a specific forfeit for this – a delicious pie!”
A stagehand handed her the baked item, and she demonstrated it to the audience. Megan, looking miserable, made no protest, but merely removed her glasses before Adeline slammed the pie into her face. It hit hard, custard and cream coating her face and into her hair, as well as falling onto her red top.
Megan shook her head to clear it, and wiped away as much custard as she could – not especially successfully – before replacing her glasses and waiting for Adeline to continue.
“And then it turned out that you hadn’t mentioned the rules against two nominations in the same match at all! Tsk, tsk – that’s another point! A contestant who loses four of their nominees is doing poorly indeed, and along with of course having to strip one more item…”
Megan sighed, and removed her red top – it was pretty much covered in cream anyway – leaving her wearing her shirt and slacks.
“The additional messy forfeit at this threshold is some nice custard to go with the pie!”
With no warning, a stagehand tipped a carton of custard directly over Megan’s head, and she screamed with surprise and at the coldness of it. It splashed across her glasses and hair, and down over her shirt.
“When Lana tried to raise for a second time, you pushed the decision onto me. I’m afraid that’s one more point, Megan – bringing you to five! As you’ve probably guessed, that’s one more item of clothing removed, followed by another messy punishment.”
Megan paused, realising that she didn’t have much clothing left at this point. She certainly couldn’t remove her shirt or her slacks, that would be far too revealing! Fortunately, she was still wearing her socks, and she crouched down to peel them off, leaving her standing barefoot in the studio.
“Fine, one more item. And what’s the punishment?”
“It may be a bit earlier, we were feeling a little festive. Five…?”
“…Golden rings?” She screeched as a stagehand upended a bucket over her from behind, covering her in cold spaghetti hoops. The tomato sauce started to make her white shirt clinging and slightly translucent (not to mention orange), and she crossed her arms in front of her chest self-consciously. The hoops slid across her body to pile up on her bare feet. “Yuck! Adeline, this is disgusting! I never agreed to this!”
“Rule zero, Megan dear. Fortunately for you, that was all your mistakes… and in fact, any contestant who loses their sixth prediction in this round and receives six points would be out of the game anyway, and thus facing our special messy elimination – which will remain a surprise, for now!
“And with that, we’ve come to the end of the show – it’s goodbye from me, Adeline, and my assistants Megan-” The messed up girl waved, keeping her other hand across her chest, “-and Waverly. We’ll see you after the first round for our aftershow and results roundup!”