At six hours, Clarence proposes Rock, Paper, Scissors again, and Teresa caves. Paper covers rock, Teresa wins, and Clarence honors the deal: he gets the food and Teresa scores the dog collar.
As they walk back to Boran's camp, Lex and Teresa appear to be holding each other up. Lex complains that his bucket-pulling was an accident because he was still "so strong." He doesn't add, "But then, I'm a sore loser, aren't I?" The whole tribe is chatting it up, but Frank walks off by himself. In a confessional, he tells us that the merge was like receiving an invitation to the Wagner family reunion when his last name is Smith. The music comes to a grinding halt as he relates this last part. Frank explains that he feels like he's floating on the outside looking at things. It'd be fun to see Frank float. Preferably in some sort of tutu.
The group exclaims over the campsite even though most of them have seen it before, and Kelly is psyched that "they brought the cart." The new tribe then discovers that there's a crate awaiting them. And if you thought you were spared this week because there was only one challenge, don't be fooled: the editors still managed to get two crappy poems into the episode. This poem mentions a "housewarming gift," and instructs the new tribe to design a flag and choose a name. The tribe wants to eat the fruit, crackers, and wine before it goes bad, so they decide to have a celebration.
While the others dig into their housewarming booty, Frank heads off into the bush. In a confessional, he tells us that everybody was happy and "ready to partake of the feast," but there can only be "so many preparers [sic]." Instead, he decided to gather wood for the camp. In a confessional, Kelly tells us that Frank is a "very big loner." She calls him socially inept, and then disses a large part of the population as "introverted and anti-social." It is my duty and privilege as an obsessively proud introvert to point out that "introverted" and "anti-social" are in no way the same thing. We introverts just have rich enough inner lives to provide for our own entertainment independently. I shouldn't start on this because I could go on, and then you'd think I was crazy. But maybe you already do...but I don't need your approval like an extrovert might. Because I'm an introvert, and it's all about the rich inner life.
A liquored-up Teresa toasts her "ten new friends" and says she's excited to share the next adventure with them. Tom tells us in a confessional, "You could almost tell Teresa's a good woman." Almost? He says it's clear that "there's a good old girl in there," and besides, she "sure ain't bad to look at." He says, "My wife knows I'm just a man, hell," and that after looking at Brandon for seven days, he'd be attracted to Teresa if she had an eye in the middle of her forehead. It sounds like someone in the group then calls Tom a pervert, or maybe he calls someone else a pervert, but in any case, we don't know exactly who or why. One out of ten people is bound to be some sort of pervert, anyway.