Chapter 2

The SS Minnow, a rust-gnawed testament to maritime decay, lurched towards the TVLAND shore, its cargo a collection of suburbanites draped in ludicrous togas. Debra, her face a mask of barely contained fury, glared at Ray.

“This is a goddamn shitshow, Ray,” she hissed, her toga threatening to expose the curve of her hip. “You and your ‘adventures.’”

Ray, his toga stretched taut over his burgeoning gut, grinned sheepishly. “Hey, it’s TVLAND! Supposed to be a party, right?”

Robert, his normally imposing frame rendered comical by the toga’s shapelessness, muttered, “Party? This feels more like a goddamn forced march into a cocksucker’s wet dream.”

Marie, ever the picture of serene control, adjusted her toga and patted Robert’s arm. “Now, Robert, let’s cultivate a positive mindset. We’re on vacation!”

Frank, face down in a bowl of chips, snored loudly, a trail of crumbs leading down his toga like a perverse Hansel and Gretel trail.

At the helm, Gilligan wrestled with the wheel, his face a mask of sheer terror. C.J. Parker, her iconic red bikini a beacon of sun-soaked carnality, emerged from below deck, her topless form a sight to behold.

“Everything alright up here, folks?” she purred, her voice a sultry caress.

Ray’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, his toga slipping further. “You’re ... you’re C.J. Parker!”

C.J. smiled, a flash of white teeth. “That’s me. And I’m here to ensure you have a ... profoundly memorable experience.”

Debra, her eyes narrowed, watched C.J. with suspicion. “Memorable how, exactly?”

Meanwhile, at the Friends’ mansion, Joey, the resident tech-savvy voyeur, had rigged a security camera in a nearby palm tree. Inside, Phoebe and Monica, topless and clad in pink string bikini bottoms, watched the monitor with a mix of disgust and amusement.

“Look at them,” Monica scoffed, her nose wrinkling. “They look like they just stepped out of a goddamn church social.”

“Worse,” Phoebe shuddered, swirling her martini. “They look like they get their pussies waxed at ... Wal-Mart.”

Joey, his eyes glued to C.J.’s ample breasts, barely registered their complaints. “Whoa,” he breathed, “check out the ... inventory.”

Monica slapped his arm. “Joey, focus! We have a situation here. These ... people are encroaching on our territory.”

“And they’re wearing togas,” Phoebe added, her voice dripping with disdain. “Togas! Like some kind of ancient orgy for twats!”

“This is a goddamn invasion,” Monica declared, pacing back and forth. “We need a plan. A strategy to repel these ... suburbanites.”

The Minnow lurched closer to the shore, the Barones a portrait of suburban anxiety.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Monica groaned, “they’re here. The vulgarian horde has arrived.”

Phoebe shuddered. “I think I need another drink. A very, very strong one.”

Joey, still mesmerized by C.J., didn’t respond.

The Barones, a chaotic jumble of togas and bewildered expressions, stepped onto the sand.

“Welcome to TVLAND!” C.J. announced, her voice ringing with a practiced enthusiasm.