| rdfs:comment | - The sun, relentlessly hot, inched over the horizon as Chris McLean relaxed on the deck of the aptly named S.S. McLean. It was a sleek, sexy boat, with its own hot tub and a mini Tiki bar - tailored to all of Chris’s selfish needs. After the destruction and subsequent failure of Camp Wawanakwa and Pahkitew Island, he had blown the rest of his host revenue into the S.S. McLean and a first class trip to the Hawaiian Islands. Part of him wanted to find a new island for a new season, and part of him just wanted to forget. Could he forget though? After all, hosting Total Drama was the only thing he was truly good at - in his own words, he was born with a “gift”.
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| abstract | - The sun, relentlessly hot, inched over the horizon as Chris McLean relaxed on the deck of the aptly named S.S. McLean. It was a sleek, sexy boat, with its own hot tub and a mini Tiki bar - tailored to all of Chris’s selfish needs. After the destruction and subsequent failure of Camp Wawanakwa and Pahkitew Island, he had blown the rest of his host revenue into the S.S. McLean and a first class trip to the Hawaiian Islands. Part of him wanted to find a new island for a new season, and part of him just wanted to forget. Could he forget though? After all, hosting Total Drama was the only thing he was truly good at - in his own words, he was born with a “gift”. The boat drifted for a while, before the entire deck was inexplicably cast in darkness. “Chef, I thought I told you I wanted that retractable awning retracted at all times!” Chris complained. His mud facial cracked as he grimaced in annoyance. “Uh, Chris, you’re gonna wanna see this…” Chef Hatchet replied from the boat’s prow. “I really doubt whatever’s got your shorts in a twist is of any interest to me” said Chris, but joined him at the prow anyway. Immediately, his jaw hit the floor. Before them was a small island, with a pristine white beach and a lush jungle. A large, imposing cliff with jagged edges and dangerous looking summit faced the west end of the island, while an even larger volcano towered over the east side of the island. "Waikiki Island... we finally found it..." Chris stuttered, utterly fixated by the beauty before him. "Heh, that's not what the locals call it" Chef replied, flipping through the brochure. "Says here they call it 'Hazard Island' ". "So...beautiful…” Chris stammered, tears welling in his eyes. Without warning, though with perfect timing, the boat began to shake, as waves began to crash violently against the hull - it was as if the island was shaking as well. Both Chris and Chef were flung backwards as the volcano suddenly erupted, sending a plume of smoke and ash into the air, and spewing fire on everything around it. Chris shrieked in terror as a large lava rock ripped a hole in the deck about three feet away, leaping into Chef’s arms. Almost instantly, the S.S. McLean began to fill with water, slowly sinking into the water. The look of glee on his face told Chef everything he needed to know. “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you're thinking…” As they locked eyes, another tear rolled down Chris’s cheek before he replied: “It’s perfect..."
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