However, it has come to our attention that there is a small safety “glitch” with the Git R Done 447, which might cause it too fire too soon or even randomly, accidentally killing someone you love. Awkward, we know. That’s why we are issuing a voluntary recall of the Git R Done 447 Personal Safety® handgun. Issuing this voluntary recall shows how much we care, and it is hard to dislike or take legal action against those who really care.
CUT TO: Image of the Git R Done 447 with a red circle and line through it.
VO, CONT’D
If you purchased a Git R Done 447, please do not fire the weapon. Do not exhale or laugh within a five-foot radius of the 447. Instead, go to our online fulfillment center at www.thecorporation.com/gitrdone. Type in code OHCRAP447 and you will receive a discount on the purchase of The Corporation’s Home Weapon Containment Robot. Once the Robot has successfully disassembled the Git R Done 447, simply mail it to The Corporation and you will receive Corporation credit coupons, which you may use for ordering any of our many fine products.
CUT TO: Shot of Corporation employees waving
VO, CONT’D
As always, we at The Corporation are committed to making your lives better, safer, and happier. You’re welcome, and have a nice day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“All right, Teen Dreamers. Let’s take stock of everything we have.” Taylor marched before the line of sleepy beauty queens, inspecting them drill sergeant–style. “Miss Nebraska, what are the island’s natural resources, please? Report.”
Mary Lou scratched at a bite on her leg with the toes of her other foot, holding on to Adina for balance. “Um, trees. Plants. Grubs. Fish. Coconuts. Water. Mud. That’s all I can think of right now.”
“Very good. Miss New Mexico, what salvaged materials do we have from the plane?”
Miss New Mexico listed things off, using her fingers to keep count. “Some teeth-bleaching trays, padded bras, three safety razors, bobby pins, thongs, the jars of Lady ’Stache Off and the radio Jennifer and Sosie found, the hot roller sets, two straightening irons, bathing suits, assorted shoes, some makeup, and a few evening gowns, including that unholy beaded green thing over there.”
“That was Miss Massachusetts’s, I think,” Brittani said.
Petra smirked. “Maybe it wasn’t the plane crash that killed her. Maybe she actually saw herself in that dress.”
“Let’s not speak ill of the dead, no matter how hideous their fashion sense,” Taylor instructed. “All right, Teen Dreamers. These are our tools. Starting today, we are adding a new survival skills portion to our pageant. I want you to treat this with the seriousness you would your other duties, like tanning and exfoliation. You need to wow the judges. Think about what you can make with what we’ve got.”