SCRIPT: Betsey Returns to the Island

Author’s Note: This was originally written in October 2018. I didn’t publish it because assholes were causing me a lot of problems at the time. Also, I’m not sure where to go with it. Should I continue the series, or should I abandon the Island of Lost Guys forever? Please let me know in the comments! Thank you in advance!

On last week’s episode of “Island Escapes International…”

BETSEY and a REAL ESTATE AGENT are standing on a desert island somewhere off the coast of Belize.

BETSEY: This Island will be perfect for all of my Lost Guys. I will build them a house so grand, they will never want to leave me ever again.

REAL ESTATE AGENT: That will be one million dollars, please.

BETSEY: Shut up and take my money!

REAL ESTATE AGENT: The exchange rate for Americans is really good down here, no?

BETSEY: That’s what happens when terrible first world foreign policy allows third world countries to become havens for money laundering, drug running, human trafficking, and gang warfare.


BETSEY: Enough about politics! I’ve got a house to build.

Three months later, Island Escapes International checks back in with BETSEY to see how her little project is coming along…

The scene opens with a flyover shot of a beautiful, exotic island somewhere in a far away land. Area Codes by Ludacris plays in the background as a private jet circles the island. It lands gracefully in a clearing. The door opens and a staircase appears. A red carpet rolls out.

BETSEY appears at the top of the staircase looking glamorous. She is wearing an emerald green sparkling fringe dress, a glittering headband with an ornate peacock feather fascinator, multiple strings of pearls, and a fur coat. She waltzes down the red carpet in her fabulous high heels. She is followed by 25 of her closest friends. They are also dressed up in 1920’s-themed clothing. BETSEY stops to greet the cameras.

BETSEY: Welcome one and all to the grand opening of The Island of Lost Guys! Here you will find an exotic wonder never before seen anywhere in literature! I’ve searched the world far and wide in search of these rare creatures of all shapes and sizes. Behold! My ridiculous collection of Ex-Boyfriends!

A sign appears on the screen reading: “VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: The term “Boyfriend,” as used in this story, is defined as any man Betsey may have dated, hooked up with, crushed on, or derived inspiration from by staring at them from across the room. Why? Because it saves a lot of time.”

Cut to shot of a large mansion built in the middle of the clearing. The house is a white Southern plantation-style home with lavender shutters and a row of elaborate Corinthian-style columns out front. A grey slate path leads a trail to the grand front steps. Antique rocking chairs sway out on the front porch. Empty beer cans cover the grass and toilet paper hangs from the bushes. Mardi Gras beads decorate the windows and doors. A flock of plastic pink flamingos hangs out on the front lawn.

BETSEY: Wait a second. Something isn’t right here. This isn’t how I left my house!

BETSEY leads both the group and the camera crew to the front door. BETSEY unlocks the house and throws open the clean glass French doors to reveal a messy, smelly, utterly disgusting man cave. More empty beer cans litter the floor, joined by half-eaten bags of chips, used solo cups, and crushed Mountain Dew cartons. Everyone gasps in shock at the sight.

BETSEY: [laughing nervously] Looks like the guys had another party last night! Ridiculous! I know for a fact I told them I was coming. I don’t know why they didn’t clean up!

BETSEY leads the crew through the foyer and living room into the kitchen, where the mess is even worse. The garbage is overflowing with trash, the counter is lined with liquor bottles, and the counters are stained red from the cheap mixers. A gigantic stack of dishes sits abandoned in the sink, left for dead some time ago. The door to the backyard is slightly ajar, with a dog’s muddy paw prints trailing in and out of the house. An empty keg rolls across the deck like a tumbleweed in the wind. Everyone looks over the scene in horror.

BETSEY: I can’t believe this! How could they leave the house like this when they knew they were going to be on national television?! Don’t they have any idea we’re live?! Men are so ungrateful! You give them a whole house and they trash it! Typical!

Everyone follows BETSEY as she storms up the stairs to the second floor to wake THE GUYS. She raises her voice and lets out the most obnoxious holler they’ve ever heard. All of them simultaneously jump awake, throw on their uniforms, and assemble in the hall. They stand at attention as BETSEY marches up and down the hall to inspect the lot. She immediately notices who is missing from the lineup.

BETSEY: Alright, which one of you measly maggots decided it was a good idea to leave that mess downstairs?! Don’t you realize we’re live on national television here?!

THE GUYS stand together in silent solidarity. Betsey rolls her eyes and marches to the end of the line. There she finds TOM DE LA SALLE. He looks especially determined to play the part of LOYAL GRUNT SOLDIER, a random extra in Scene Three who captures the attention of the director, becomes a crucial supporting player over the course of the movie, and receives his own dramatic death scene in the final act. As a result, he stars in the director’s next five productions, wins multiple Oscars, and quickly becomes an international sensation.

BETSEY: You! Soldier! You seem like you’re looking for a chance to stand out from the crowd! I always know a Star when I see one. Tell me. What do you have to say?

TOM: [stands up tall and salutes BETSEY fiercely] Ma’am, yes, Ma’am! It was the President of the Belizean chapter of the Mu Alpha Tau Zeta fraternity, ma’am!

BETSEY: [confused] I beg your pardon? The Who of the What now?

TOM: The President of the Fraternity.

BETSEY: [eyes narrow darkly] What fraternity?

TOM: The fraternity we all joined in a Secret Ceremony in the basement. He told us it was real jack rabbit blood, but it just tasted like regular old blackberry brandy to me. Never much liked the stuff myself. Always thought it tasted like cough syrup.

BETSEY: [twitching angrily] I never authorized any sort of Greek activity on this island! There is no way this is a respectable, legitimate, registered organization. I’m not dealing with the legal ramifications of this. I’m going to have to shut it down.

TOM: Well, good luck with that one. He’s not going to let it go easily. It was crazy how it all happened. Everything was normal. All of us were just relaxing out here in our hammocks. The one day, HE showed up. Suddenly, he took over everything. [snaps fingers] Just like that.

BETSEY: I know exactly what you mean. What happened next?

TOM: He rounded us up, put us in bunks, and sent us out to do the grunt work. It’s been three years now since he enslaved us, but I never lost hope. Every once in awhile he throws a party to boost moral, but slogging through the day is brutal. We built this house with blood, sweat, and tears. Good men died here. So many good men! So many good god damned men!

TOM breaks down and starts crying dramatically. The crowd stands in awe, completely enraptured by his performance. BETSEY wipes a single tear from her eye.

BETSEY: Beautiful. Just beautiful. That is some real goddamn talent right there!

THE CROWD applauds. BETSEY promptly resumes her angry stance.

BETSEY: And pray tell, good solider, what is the name of this so-called “president” of this obviously fake “Mu Alpha Tau Zeta” fraternity? Is he aware that no legitimate Greek organization contains four letters in its name?

TOM: It was Andrew Darling, ma’am.

THE CROWD gasps.

BETSEY: [fuming] Of course it was.

TOM: As for your second question, I can neither confirm nor deny he has any knowledge of the Greek system. I can only say that he believes himself to be The Emperor of the whole island and therefore controls everything that goes on here.

BETSEY: Well… we’ll see about that, won’t we?

TOM: He’s upstairs in the penthouse if you’re looking for him.

BETSEY: [sarcastically] Of course he’s in the penthouse. Where else would he be?

TOM: I can take you up there if you like.

BETSEY: Lead the way. As for the rest of you, clean up this mess right now! I want this island to shine like the top of the Chrysler building!

THE GUYS: Whatever you say, Boss!

BETSEY: Damn right.

TOM leads BETSEY & COMPANY upstairs to the penthouse. At the top of the stairway they find an elaborate purple and gold door with a sign written in childish crayon scrawl, “ANDREW’S ROOM. NO GIRLS ALLOWED! (EXCEPT 4 MOM).” The door promptly opens and two young college girls come tramping out in the same clubwear they wore to the party the night before. Their makeup is smeared and their hairstyles askew. They stop giggling when greeted with the sight of a full camera crew.

BETSEY: Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but… who the hell are you?

COLLEGE GIRL 1: What’s with the camera crew? Are we on TV right now?

COLLEGE GIRL 2: [cutting in front and taking a selfie in front of the cameras] I’m Ashley and this is Tiffany! We’re Influencers!

BETSEY: Uh huh, yeah. Right. Sure you are. And tell me, ladies, just what are you doing in my house?

TIFFANY: This is your house?

BETSEY: It is indeed my house. Let me guess. Andrew told you otherwise.

ASHLEY: He sure did! He said this was his house and we were welcome to come over to use the pool anytime we want.

BETSEY: [rolling her eyes] Well, unfortunately you have been misinformed. This is my house and you are not to come back here anymore, especially to use my pool. No other women are allowed on this island except for me. It’s my island I bought for my ex-boyfriends. You are not welcome here.

TIFFANY: Oh… sorry!

ASHLEY: We’ll just be going now.

BETSEY: Great. I’ll send one of my minions to get the helicopter. I support your right to party, but you can’t do it in my house. Go back to school and find a real frat house to get wasted in. Thanks again for visiting The Island of Lost Guys. Get home safe!


THE COLLEGE GIRLS slip past the camera crew and disappear down the stairs, stopping to take several selfies on the way down. BETSEY shakes her head and looks back at the door with dread.

BETSEY: All right, let’s see what’s behind Door Number Three!

BETSEY throws the door open to find a wide open studio space. A ring of strategically placed chairs sits in the middle of the room with various instruments strewn about. In the corner rests an old futon with a lump of blankets on top and a golden retriever puppy sleeping in the corner of the bed. BETSEY approaches the futon and pulls off the blankets to reveal a disheveled (early) middle-aged man with messy hair, a heavy five o’clock shadow, and a total dadbod. He is completely naked from head to toe and holding his dick in his hand. He jumps up in surprise and quickly covers himself with the sheet.

BETSEY: Andrew! What is the meaning of this?

ANDREW: [hazily] Oh… um… heyyyy, baby. What are you doing here?

BETSEY: I called three days ago to let you know in advance I was coming! I told you to clean up the house! Why isn’t it done?


BETSEY: And while you’re at it, would you mind explaining to everyone who those girls were we just met outside your door?

ANDREW: What girls? I didn’t see any girls.

BETSEY: We have them on camera telling us you invited them over here.

ANDREW: I don’t know who you’re talking about. Sorry.

BETSEY: [points to a lime green thong on the floor] One of them left their underwear right there.

ANDREW: Wow, that’s so weird. How did that get there? Is that yours?

BETSEY: [gives him a look of disgust] Seriously? You think I, Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire, would ever wear anything lime green, let alone a g-string? I am a woman with style, class, and taste. I would NEVER wear a lime green thong!

BETSEY throws the thong in ANDREW’S face. He takes a quick sniff of it before tossing it to the floor.

ANDREW: I’m not sure where that came from. Sorry.

BETSEY: [visibly disgusted] Roll the tape!

THE CREW plays back the video footage of TIFFANY and ASHLEY for ANDREW. He looks down at the floor and cringes.

ANDREW: Ohhh… uhhh… right… uhh… those girls. Yeah. Um… They were just here to clean the house.

BETSEY: So you hired a set of maids. I see.

ANDREW: That’s right!

BETSEY: Maids that you were just found in bed with. In a filthy house.

ANDREW: You didn’t find me in bed with them. They were in here cleaning the room.

BETSEY: They certainly weren’t dressed like they were cleaning the room! They were wearing crop tops and mini skirts with six inch heels!

ANDREW: It’s a specialized service. They’re supposed to dress that way.

BETSEY: Which explains why you’re naked, of course.

ANDREW: I’m not naked. I’m wearing a sheet.

BETSEY: [heavy sigh] Andrew, I just want you know I’m very disappointed in you right now. I thought you were more responsible than this. I thought I could trust you to be left alone in charge of the house. Now I see I was wrong. You’ve humiliated me in front of a live audience. Yet again! Thanks for nothing.

ANDREW: Wait! Stop! I can explain!

BETSEY storms out of the room. The cameras linger on ANDREW for just a moment as he calls after her. THE CREW proceeds to follow BETSEY as she walks down the hallway and back to the foyer. She stops at the top of the stairs, takes a deep breath, and turns around. She clears her throat and smiles at the camera as if absolutely nothing is wrong.

BETSEY: Well, it looks like we’ve discovered the main culprit behind the party! Typical men! They really do believe deep down in their primitive little lizard brains that women are in charge of the household chores! We’ve clearly got a lot of work to do here, so I guess that means it’s time for a commercial break. We’ll be back after these somewhat questionable messages from our sponsors.


To be continued…

SCRIPT: Feed Your Ex To A Tiger

Betsey is scrolling through Facebook when she comes upon an exciting ad: “CLICK HERE TO FEED YOUR EX TO A TIGER.” Upon following the link, she finds an Exotic Cat Sanctuary page advertising a charity event.

Web Page: Have you ever fantasized about feeding your ex to a tiger? Now you can make that dream come true! For every five dollars you donate, we’ll name a piece of raw meat after your ex and feed it to a tiger on our social media livestream! Every contribution you make goes towards helping end the enslavement of these beautiful, dignified creatures for human entertainment! Whether your contribution goes towards efforts to lobby Congress to pass the necessary legislation, care for the cats, or general upkeep of the facility, rest assured your money is going to good use! Click here to donate today!

Betsey: Hmmm….

After dedicating many long hours to carefully researching the legitimacy of the organization, Betsey makes her decision. She sits down at her computer and begins to pen her email.

Betsey: [reading aloud as she types] To whom it may concern, I am contacting you directly because I would like to make a significant enough contribution to your organization that I receive a tax break in return. I care deeply about protecting the rights of animals, especially exotic animals born, bred, and forever imprisoned in captivity for profit and so-called “entertainment.” My lifelong passion for this cause is something I take very seriously. That is why I want to make such a significant contribution to your organization.

The following list of names is quite lengthy and may take up the majority of your livestream, which I am more than happy to financially compensate you for in return. Here’s my offer of a ridiculous amount of money that only exists in this story. Please let me know what you think. Thank you again for dedicating your life to preserving the dignity of these beautiful creatures.

Betsey attaches a list of names that not only includes her exes, but several former employers and assorted bullies as well. She sends off the letter and waits for a response. A few hours later, she receives an email from the organization’s director.

Director: Dear Betsey, Thank you so much for your donation! I am thrilled to offer you an exclusive spot on our livestream in return for your generous contribution. We will be hosting the event on DATE at TIME. Here’s some super boring info about financial stuff, blah blah blah. Thank you again for working with us to protect exotic animal rights!

On the day of the event, Betsey tunes into the livestream.

Director: Hey there all you cool cats and kittens! We are excited to inform you that our “Feed Your Ex To A Tiger” campaign has been a raging success! We’ve received millions of dollars in donations! You’d be surprised just how many people in this world would feed their ex to a tiger!

… Not that I would know or anything, of course. I didn’t do it, but if I did, I was clearly ridding the world of a shady drug dealer who was regularly flying to a third world country to prey on young girls living in poverty. Is it really that big of a loss to the human race? NO!

Anyway, as I was saying, the number of people who want to see their ex fed to a tiger was so significant that we’ll be doing these livestreams for several months. We might even make it a permanent thing!

That being said, I’d like to dedicate the first episode to Betsey Horton, who sent us a list so long and a contribution so large, we decided to acknowledge her as our top donor! Those of us here at Exotic Cat Sanctuary are grateful to you for helping our cause. Enjoy watching your exes get fed to a tiger, Betsey!

Betsey: [sits back and smirks as the first deer leg is pulled from the pile and waved over a hungry tiger’s head] Thanks, Director Lady. I will.

The End

SCRIPT: The Island of Lost Guys

On today’s episode of Island Hunters…

BETSEY: Hi! My name is Betsey! I’m a Writer Extraordinaire from Washington D.C. I’m looking to purchase an island in Belize where all of my Lost Guys can live.

REAL ESTATE AGENT: What are you looking for in an Island Paradise?

BETSEY: When I think of the Island of Lost Guys, I think of space. Lots of space. I want them to be comfortable, you know? I see a nice big beach house with a pool and a dock for a boat. I definitely want trees so they can hang up their hammocks, and a huge dining room/chef’s kitchen so they have somewhere to eat. I won’t be cooking for them, of course. I plan to hire somebody for that.

As far as bedrooms goes, they’re boys so they can bunk up if necessary. I’m thinking maybe 10 bedrooms, 15 at the most. As many bathrooms as possible, because they are men, and men are just… disgusting. I fully plan on providing 24-hour on-site staff to clean up after them. I really want to make them to feel at home.

Budget wise, I’m looking to spend about $13 million. I know it’s Belize and the exchange rate is cheaper, so I’m willing to take on a fixer-upper. I have a feeling it’s going to take some time to get all of them together anyway.

REAL ESTATE AGENT: Well, that’s all very reasonable. After some searching, I’ve found the perfect Island Paradise for you! It has everything you’re looking for, and it’s only $1 million. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but it’s got everything you need. Doesn’t it feel good to take advantage of third world tax havens?

BETSEY: It sure does! I love Capitalism! Now let’s update this mansion! I’ll paint it some bright colors, get some nice furniture, hang up some hammocks, install a home theatre with surround sound and all the latest video game systems. Servants to cater to their every whim, a chef to cook them whatever they want, a maid to clean up after their mess. Whatever these guys want! Their wish is my command!

REAL ESTATE AGENT: Say, just what are you planning to do with your Island Paradise anyway?

BETSEY: Now that I have this Island Paradise, I’m going to invite all of my ex-boyfriends, muses, and former love interests to stay here. There’s only one catch… none of them have any idea they’re secretly being filmed for America’s Next Great Reality TV Show™. Let’s tune in and see what happens next…

The opening credits roll. A private jet lands on a remote island somewhere off the coast of Belize. Off step a bunch of wildly different but equally attractive men. Area Codes by Ludacris plays in the background.

THE LOST GUYS, in order of appearance:

  • THE GENERAL, a sexy former Jedi Knight, played by Ewan McGregor
  • THE PERSIAN, a greasy used car salesman
  • HENRY WILLIAMS, a handsome young French teacher
  • MERRICK, a seductive, gothic vampire
  • BEAR, Merrick’s First Best Friend
  • RYAN, Merrick’s Second Best Friend
  • TEA, an alcoholic
  • DOUBLE D, a drug addict
  • TOM, an actor specializing in villainous roles
  • THE FRENCHMAN, a suave rando picked up on the streets of Paris
  • THE PRINCE, a scoundrel and a cad
  • DUKE, Tom’s cranky older brother
  • LEO, a washed-up, old actor
  • ANDREW, the sexy Owner of Bloody Mary’s Bar

THE LOST GUYS arrive on the Island and get settled into their rooms. They break into the open bar by the pool and begin their ceremonial rituals of fraternal bonding.

After a round of Halo gets a little too heated, THE PERSIAN gets voted off the Island. After an intense, rum-fueled argument escalates into a fight in the backyard, THE PRINCE gets escorted off the Island by the police. TEA and DOUBLE D choose to leave in order to make better lifestyle choices. BEAR and RYAN follow MERRICK around everywhere he goes. THE FRENCHMAN and HENRY WILLIAMS were just here on vacation. DUKE is only here for the food. LEO couldn’t make it due to scheduling conflicts.

That leaves THE GENERAL, MERRICK, TOM, and ANDREW. They all get along harmoniously, until the subject of BETSEY comes up. That’s when the real contest begins.

TOM: I’m her favourite! She loved me so much, she was stalking me!

MERRICK: Oh, please. She was “stalking” all of us. That doesn’t count. It’s part of her job.

ANDREW: I think we can all agree that I’m her favourite. Just look at the way she writes about me. It’s so obvious she wants me the most out of anybody.

MERRICK: Woah there, pretty boy. You’re not her favourite. I’m her favourite.

ANDREW: Yeah? You think so? She comes into my bar almost every single day.

MERRICK: Just because she likes your bar doesn’t mean she likes you.

ANDREW: You think just because you sparkle in the sun you’re some kind of hot shit?

MERRICK: I am hot shit. You wouldn’t even believe how much money I make.

ANDREW: You wouldn’t even believe how much money I make.

MERRICK: You think you’re a big deal just because you own some bar in Small Town, South Dakota? Who are you, anyway?

ANDREW: I’m a bigger fucking deal than you are. I own my own business, mother fucker. I oversee a historic property. Meanwhile, you’re up to some kind of shady shit doing military contract work. Your job only exists because my hard-earned tax dollars are paying for it.

MERRICK: Sounds like the joke’s on you, asshole.

ANDREW: Yeah? You wanna dance, douchebag? I can take on some East Coast pussy like you.

MERRICK: You think so, Pretty Boy? One punch in the face and you’re straight outta the game!

ANDREW: Not if I rip your dick off first! What have you got left after that? Your charming personality?

MERRICK and ANDREW get into the Classic Alpha Male Struggle for Dominance.

Meanwhile, BETSEY and 20 of her closest friends are watching the scene unfold from her home theatre on the island next door.

BETSEY: This was the best investment I’ve ever made. Worth every penny. 10/10, would buy again.


Cut back to MERRICK and ANDREW fighting.

MERRICK: You don’t even know her that well! You’re too busy talking to everyone else in the room!

ANDREW: I know her plenty well! You wouldn’t even believe how drunk I’ve seen her get before! That’s when her real personality comes out!

MERRICK: That may be, but you don’t know her the way I know her. I’m The Best She’s Ever Had. I got two words for you, bro: Vampire Sex. You don’t even know what that means.

ANDREW: I don’t want to know what that means. I’m sure I can show her plenty of things she’s never seen before. She doesn’t even know anything about South Dakota. I could show that bitch The World.

MERRICK: Sounds like a whole lot of Talk and not a whole lot of Action. Pretty typical for a Politician if you ask me. You don’t even know what you’re missing, bro.

ANDREW: Just looks like I’m missing a bunch of Crazy.

MERRICK: You don’t even know. She is tame around you. All she does when she’s around you is sit down, shut up, and write in her fucking notebook. I’ve never seen her act like that around a man before. You should’ve seen what she did to me. She lay waste to the small town in Maryland where I’m from. She dated both of my best friends. And on top of it all, she was the best sex I’ve ever had. That bitch is fucking crazy, but if I could fuck her again, I totally would. She’s just that good.

ANDREW: [raises one eyebrow with intrigue] Really?

MERRICK: Really.

TOM: Hey now, don’t talk about her that way.

EVERYONE: Shut the fuck up, Tom!

MERRICK: Don’t even get me started on you, Farm Boy. I could kill you after what you did to her. You’re lucky she asked me to spare your life, or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now. You’re not even worth my time. At least Pretty Boy here would put up a decent fight.

ANDREW: I’ll show you what a real man looks like, you little vampire bitch.

BETSEY: Okay, everybody, that’s enough fighting over me for now. My ego has been stroked enough. It’s time for everyone to cast their vote for the winner of Last Muse Standing.

Everyone casts their vote. The results are placed into an envelope and delivered to BETSEY. She flies to the island next door and makes a spectacular entrance in a stunning evening gown. MERRICK and ANDREW look at her with sparkling eyes. Both are equally confident they are going to win.

BETSEY: Gentlemen, thank you for coming to my island. This has truly been one of the most entertaining stories I’ve ever dared to write. I want to thank both of you for continuing to inspire me every day. Merrick, thanks for the hot sex! Andrew, thanks for letting me back into your bar. But there can only be one.

The tribal drum music grows louder and more intense. MERRICK and ANDREW look at each other tensely. BETSEY enjoys watching them fight over her a little too much. Finally, after a painfully long commercial break from our corporate sponsors, the suspense is over.

BETSEY: And the winner of Last Muse Standing is… THE GENERAL!

ANDREW and MERRICK are equally shocked. THE GENERAL smirks and struts to the front in black leather pants. BETSEY fawns over him for awhile before presenting him with a pair of golden panties.

BETSEY: Congratulations, sir. You really are my ultimate inspiration.

MERRICK: I don’t understand! Why the hell did this guy win? He’s not even real!

THE GENERAL: Fool! She’s been writing my screenplay since she was 13 years old. She’s gone through at least 20 drafts. It’s only now just getting good. You think she’s not using every minute of her limited spare time to plot ways to use her family Hollywood connection to J.J. Abrams? She’s writing it for Ewan McGregor. There’s no way he’s gonna say no.

ANDREW: Now that’s Crazy.

THE GENERAL: We’ll see who’s got the last laugh, Pretty Boy.

THE GENERAL takes BETSEY by the arm and leads her back to the helicopter. They take off and fly away into the sunset, together at last.

The End.