We see the treemail segment. Again. Just Peachy tells us that the name of the next challenge is "Distress Signal," just as I'm about to send up one of my very own. He explains that each team will build an S.O.S., and the winner will be determined by a plane flying overhead, which will drop in a crate of supplies to the victors. Each team sends a member to check out the booty; Target can urge us to bounce and gets together all it wants, but this is not making me happy, and it's certainly not making me smile. The crate is full of towels, hammocks, and toilet paper. Dirk stand with his fingers tucked into his armpits like Mary Katherine Gallagher. Jenna requests a spice rack to be added to the prize and Dirk wants a filet knife to take care of Richard once and for all.
Back at Pagong, we learn that the clue has come in the form of another terrible poem. One line reads, "toilet paper to wipe your bum," and right about now you should be on your knees thanking me for sparing you the rest. Gretchen wants to light a quick bonfire and Colleen starts spazzing out because this is her gig, it's "like, advertising." The team argues over what sells and Greg's answer is, "Sex, naked people," which is funny, because I thought cocophones were the wave of the future. Colleen adds, "We're trapped on a desert island, you know, we're horny." And I'm so happy right now for B.B. that he is spared thirty-six days or so of this mind-numbing conversation.
At Tagi, Dirk announces that a "phat, filthy stainless-steel filet knife" has been added to the booty. He thinks he's rollin' with the homies when really he's just pushing a tractor with the farm boys. Richard tells us that Sue made fun of Dirk's swagger, and then we are able to see it for ourselves (because they can't just show us; Richard must translate it, continuing his trial-run to host the next season).