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Really, he should have turned off that alarm anyway. Campers? There were no campers. Interns? Well...he could torture them, but it didn't require being up at the asscrack of dawn anymore to do it. No, the off-season was his time to sleep. Relax even. Spend the days moving between Wawanakwa itself and the lovely Playa Des Losers for -real- relaxation.

But something was definitely off.

Though he had fallen asleep again it wasn't a very -restful- sleep. Creepy vampire-esque stalkers did not make for a comforting sleep environment, and eventually a rather grumpy Chris rolled his way out of bed and stretched.

Why the hell was it so dark? The alarm clock read a perfectly acceptable time to be awake, but the darkness inside the trailer said otherwise. ...Hrm. Maybe it was storming? Though he didn't hear anything...weird dude. Weird.

Running paws through his hair (a quick fix, though it'd definitely require more work later), the host Audio meandered his way to his trailer door and opened it to peer outside. In his pajamas. ...His beaver decorated pajama pants and plain old surfing shirt. AKA very mismatched pajamas.

"Good moooooorning Chris," one of them purred. How did it feel, Mister Chris *beep* McClean to have your own morning-opener used on you? There was the whisper of papers being shuffled, a pair of red eyes glancing down briefly to look at said papers, considering.

"Such a look is becoming of you, Mister McClean. Please, have a seat."

The glaring producer's eyes brightened as a look of fear crossed the host's face. He was certainly glad they had installed several new cameras overnight just to catch the host's reactions. As if moving the tv in while the host slept without waking him weren't hard enough to organize. The old mattresses they had used to muffle the sound around his trailer had made for an amusing show when they were loosed to the interns, but the paled in comparison to that single image. He hoped this little chat would instill enough fear to cow the hosts superior attitude. It was past time he be shown his place.

The pair of eyes watched the host traverse through the woods, nearing his designated seat.

The further he walked, the more like a DOOMED child he felt. Did he know why they called? Did he know why they had decided to show their faces (....kind of) and have such a lovely conversation with him? Did he know just how very screwed he was?

He had a good idea.

But he wasn't about to say that out loud.

"Clearly to give me a raise, because I'm one AWESOME host, right guys?"
Not the typical 'dudes' thrown in at the end there. Whether that was Chris' way of showing respect one would never know. And why, why oh why did he have to open his mouth? He had to figure that'd be just one more nail in the coffin he had built for himself.

But he wasn't about to go down so easily. He had bested the challenges here once before, he could certainly prove his worth again. Right?

Finally near the seat, and for a brief moment Chris got a very distinct prisoner on death row feeling. He chalked it up to his brief stint in prison movies and plopped into the seat. The host was trying to look as cocky as ever.

He wasn't doing a very good job of it.

A female voice cut in, and began to read off giant cue-cards also seen off-screen.

"Violation One: Failure to deliver the promised Season One.
Violation Two: Acquired a lawsuit which resulted in violation one.
Violation Three: Lost aquired lawsuit which resulted in violation one.
Violation Four: Sent all campers home due to violation two, which resulted in violation one.
Violation Five: Continued lingerment on Wawanakwa.
Violation Six: Hired an intern without proper protocol.
Violation Seven: Said intern mentioned in violation six was a previous camper.
Violation Eight: Said intern mentioned in violations six and seven was not sent home properly in Violation Four.
Violation Nine: Unproper and unapproved spawning.
Violation Ten: Said intern mentioned in violations six, seven, and eight was issued a non-standard cellphone.
Violation Eleven: All other interns have started an online petition in protest of this unfair treatment.
Violation Twelve: Interns expect the producers to read it.
Violation Thirteen: Producers are expected do read online petition mentioned in violation eleven.
Violation Fourteen: Unapproved intern's uniform does not clash enough.
Violation Fifteen: Sasquatchenakwa and Molotov are inquiring about their uniforms.
Violation Sixteen: Violation Fifteen's participants do not need uniforms.
Violation Seventeen: One Chris McClean has overslept.
Violation Eighteen: This is here for no purpose.
Violation Nineteen: Violation eighteen has no purpose.
Violation Twenty: I'm On A Boat was performed off-key."


...And that was just the start of it.

A drawn out pause followed the unexpected audio's appearance. "............I hope you have an explanation for that, McLean. ....Be sure to add uninvited guest to a conference call to the list.." he added to the mysterious Ms. Caine.

Doing his best to ignore Dude (which was quite hard when he was currently hanging off a tree screaming something about how he'd rather be on a buoy), Chris did his best to fend off the accusations.

"Cmon dudes, this isn't fair! I had no idea she'd show up again..shouldn't this be something YOU prepared for?"
Oh crap, backtalking the closest thing he had to ahem....nevermind. But it was too late to back down now.
"Of COURSE I'm still on Wawanakwa, I stay here? It's my island?"
Well he stayed there...mostly. When he wasn't wandering around the extravagant hotel nearby.
"The interns...pffft. And the whole thing with the new intern? She.....needed help."
GOD He was admitting a weakness, but if he didn't trim down on these violations he was so screwed.

"Don't you think you guys are overreacting? Sheeeesh."
One dismissive hand-wave later and his challenge to the producers was done. Now to wait and see if it helped or if he had simply dug a deeper hole for himself.