The Journey of the Urn

(Ext. shot of Tribal Council.)

LOGAN: I’ll see you back in the U.S. for the reading of the votes.

(The castaways react to this as if they are a dozen clones of Becky Lee.)

(LOGAN takes out a machete and cuts his way through the jungle behind Tribal Council. He stops when he hears a sound in the distance.

LOGAN: Who’s there?

??????: Don’t look back. Just keep walking.

LOGAN (gulps): Who are you?

??????: ………..

(LOGAN is pushed through the jungle with a gun trained on him from the hooded figure behind.)

LOGAN: What is it that you want?

??????: Just keeping going until we reach the shore.

LOGAN: Suit yourself.

(We see LOGAN and the hooded figure trek through the jungle until the ocean is visible. A boat is docked. One of the characters from Jaws is the captain. I don’t know which character, specifically. I never saw that movie.)

JAWS GUY: Whoa! What’s going on here?

LOGAN: It’s okay, Jaws Guy. Everyone stay calm.

???????: You, drive the boat. I have a yacht to catch.

JAWS GUY: A yacht? Where?

??????: International waters. Need to get away from the Sioux Hawks.

LOGAN: Sioux Hawks? They might be a bit rough, but I assure you they’re a gracious people. Except they spit.

??????: Get on the boat.

(LOGAN, JAWS GUY, and hooded figure get on the boat. They board the boat. Awkward silence ensues as the boat skims along the ocean.)

LOGAN: So, uh, what’d you do to the Sioux Hawks?

?????????: Let’s just say I left them humiliated.


???????: Dehumanized.

LOGAN: That’s it.

???????: I left them totally spent, too.


???????: Don’t judge. Hey, there’s my yacht!

(Gloria Estefan music can be heard from the yacht. Cuba Gooding Jr. is spotted.)

LOGAN: Wait, it’s not a….

(Police siren whirring can be heard in the background.)

??????: International waters is so close!

POLICE: Richard Hatch, this is Officer Jenny. Put the weapon down, and your hands up. And don’t do any thrusting with your hands up. Those Sioux Hawks told us everything. Verbally, of course. They can’t spell worth crap. And don’t give me that nervous twitching motion like you’re Josh Blue.

LOGAN: That’s offensive.

JAWS GUY: You’re not familiar with Officer Jenny? She can be a bit insensitive.

(A seaplane touches down in the water.)

JENNY: Mr. Saunders, we have alternate transportation ready for you.

LOGAN: Thanks.

(LOGAN gets inside of the seaplane. It takes off.)

LOGAN (pats the urn): In due time. In due time.

(LOGAN rests his eyes.)


STEWARDESS: Excuse me Mr. Seinfeld, but we’re going to have to excuse you to coach.

SEINFELD: To coach? But this is a seaplane! It’s not realistic.

STEWARDESS: No, I mean you will be forced to sit next to Coach.

SEINFELD: What’s the deal with Coach? Dragon Slayer? Zeus? Orchestrator? Man, listening to him makes me want to call Mike Tyson to bite my ears off.

(Suddenly the seaplane erupts.)

LOGAN: What’s going on?!

COACH: I was through an air-to-air missile experience once. I did a majestic dance to fend them away. We danced with the Natives. And Kareem Abdul-Jabaar.

LOGAN: Who’s the pilot of this flight?

STEWARDESS: Why, it’s Scott Evans.

COACH: I can transform him into Kareem Abdul-Jabaar. Just need complete concentration and silence.

LOGAN: I know Scott Evans.

COACH: Ah, a name amongst a fellow mortal like yourself?

LOGAN: No. He’s an obscure reference. Google it.

COACH (Googles internally): Ah, I thought his name sounded familiar.

SEINFELD: What’s the deal with biting your own ears off? Why isn’t there a Visine for that?

(The seaplane crashes into the water. The screen goes blank momentarily. We see a blue colour seeping into the screen and LOGAN’s face coming clearer and clearer into the picture. His eyes are closed. A dolphin boy frolicks around him, shrugs, and takes ahold of him.)

(The camera cuts to LOGAN waking up on a beach. He chokes on the salt water. A fish is being cooked in the background.)

DOLPHIN BOY (kicking LOGAN in the side): Fish is ready. I’m awesome. Coconuts are split open for you to drink. I can climb a tree. Water is boiled. I am more prepared than anyone on this island. Shelter is constructed and a tarp over it. I’m going to have a threesome. Watch the fire periodically. I’m not using a condom because I create Ozzlets only when I desire. Good night.

LOGAN: Thanks!

(LOGAN curls up in the shelter. He falls asleep.)

(Cut to roosters cock-a-doodle-dooling until LOGAN awakes. He opens his eyes.)

DOLPHIN BOY (stares into LOGAN’s eyes above him): Raft is constructed. Fan mail goes to my secretary’s e-mail. Paddle until you see a hut erected on the horizon. Autographs are twenty dollars. Watch out for the falcons. Get out.

LOGAN (cheerfully): Goodbye! Thanks for everything!

(LOGAN paddles until he sees the post on the horizon. He jumps off the raft.)

LOGAN (under his breath): Watch out for the falcons…watch out for the falcons….

(LOGAN hears rustling in the bushes.)

LOGAN: Not this again.


LOGAN: What is this?

(ASIAN BOY appears.)

ASIAN BOY: L-Cancel!

LOGAN: What?


LOGAN (hesitant): Okay, L-Cancel.

(LOGAN L-Cancels.)

LOGAN (smiling): It worked.

ASIAN BOY: Now throw your urn at him.

LOGAN (widened eyes): My urn? I need to protect this at all costs.

ASIAN BOY: Don’t worry, it will re-appear. Trust me.

LOGAN (inhales and exhales deeply): Okay. I’ll sue you if it doesn’t.

(LOGAN hurls the urn at FALCON. FALCON is hit. LOGAN sees the urn re-appear. He begins to throw it continuously until FALCON flies further and further away until he disappears completely.)

ASIAN BOY: Success!

(LOGAN high-five’s ASIAN BOY.)

LOGAN: Wow, you were awesome. But why are you living in a place like this?

ASIAN BOY: Eh, I don’t have to worry about people. Oh, can you send a message for me?

LOGAN (confused): Aroo?

ASIAN BOY: Tell Kodi Ross that Donkey Hoang will pay him a visit to pwn. He’ll know what I’m talking about.

(LOGAN nods.)

never gonna give you up never gonna let you down never gonna run around and desert you

(LOGAN scratches his head.)

LOGAN: So how do I get to Los Angeles from here?

ASIAN BOY: Follow the Yellow Rick Road. Everyone knows that.

LOGAN: Oh, is that the really long mustache I saw on the edge of the island?

ASIAN BOY: Yes. I don’t see how you can miss it. Its inception was charted by the Sioux over two thousand Novembers ago. And it’s over 9000 miles long!!!!!!!!!!

(LOGAN tucks the urn under his arm and starts skipping along the Yellow Rick Road. A small dog joins him randomly halfway through.)

(Cut to LOGAN seeing ‘Welcome to Greater Los Angeles’ at the end of the twisted road.)

LOGAN (in a shawkwilo or a shaquary in his mind): How do I get to the studio from here? Do I ask someone? Look at a map? I’m not sure. I think I always should go to the right but I could go left, too. Oh, damn you Darrah Logic!

BIG DUDE: You lost?

LOGAN: Yeah. Which way to CBS Studios?

BIG DUDE: Take a right, then keep going straight for twelve blocks until you go left.

LOGAN: Are you sure?


LOGAN: Okay, okay, okay, I get it. Thank you, sir.

(LOGAN continues walking until he runs into JEFF PROBST.)

LOGAN: Hey Jeff.

JEFF: Logan, you’re reading the votes? Could I suggest someone a bit more camera friendly to read the votes?

LOGAN: What?

JEFF: Take Boston Rob or Russell, for example. VERY good with the camera. They have been on Survivor for a combined total of seven times for a reason. These two have PLAYED Survivor, and know this game inside and out. Here here, give me your urn. You’ll thank me later.

LOGAN: Boston Rob died at the end of August when  my game started, remember? Curtis Granderson or Jeter got him.

JEFF PROBST: Well, let’s get Russell.

(RUSSELL peers out from the corner of the building.)

RUSSELL: I’m the greatest vote reader of allllll time.

(LILIANA GOMEZ appears and harpoons RUSSELL from behind. The life drains from RUSSELL’s eyes.)

RUSSELL: I’m the best…ever.

LOGAN: Phil Baroni’d?


(LILIANA slinks away without a word.)

LOGAN: Lisi warned us about her Mexican scheming on Survivor.

JEFF PROBST: Lisi? Liliana? On Survivor? You must be referring to some other show. But seeing they’re both dead, I gueeeeess, I can read the votes.

LOGAN: Don’t worry, I can read the votes.

JEFF PROBST: No, seriously. You can’t.

(STACEY STILLMAN fires two bullets into JEFF PROBST’s neck. She flips the bird at Probst. Then she takes out a bag of sand from her purse, showers it onto the pavement, and kicks it into PROBST’s eyes.)

LOGAN: Thanks Stacey!

(STACEY kicks sand onto LOGAN’s jeans. She flips the bird at LOGAN, then walks away.)

LOGAN: Wow. Well, show time.

(Cut to LOGAN walking into CBS Studios.)

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