Many thanks to JWood21 for beta-reading. We did have a laugh!

As always, the credit for Gilligan's Island itself goes to Sherwood Schwartz. I wish the network censors had let him do stuff like this!

Fish Story

Mary Ann's bathing suit hit Gilligan smack in the face. Not knowing what it was, Gilligan unhooked it and turned it about as the Professor clutched his fishing pole in mute disbelief.

Gilligan eyed the suspicious pair of protuberances at the top. "Must have been a her," he said, wondering whether they had nearly caught a mermaid.

He was soon enlighted. "Oh! Gilligan!"

Both men looked up to see Mary Ann in the rippling waters of the lagoon, her arms crossed over her bare shoulders and her face as red as a well-cooked lobster. "Gilligan!"

"Good Heavens!" gasped the Professor. He and Gilligan dropped suit and pole as they clamped their hands over their eyes. In the lagoon Mary Ann sputtered incoherently.

Gilligan took one quick peep through his fingers, and then snapped them closed again. He poked the Professor with his elbow. "You go get her!"

The Professor didn't move. "Don't be ridiculous! You go!"

"Me? Nothing doing!"

"Professor! Gilligan! Give me my suit!"

At Mary Ann's prompt the two men dove for the soggy swimwear and grabbed it. As they snapped upright, they began to pull in a panicked tug-of-war.

The Professor reefed the suit backwards. "Gilligan, let go! I'll throw it to her!"

But Gilligan's grip was just as strong, and he hauled on the suit like he was weighing anchor. "Let me, Professor! I've got a good throwing arm!"

"You can't calculate the trajectory! Let me!"

"You'll never get it past first base!"

"Let go!"

"Gimme!"

RRRRRRIP!

The scientist and the sailor staggered backwards, each clutching one half of a black bathing suit. Each man looked at his prize, and two mouths fell open in horror.

"Good Heavens!" gasped the Professor.

"Uh oh," gulped Gilligan.

In the lagoon, Mary Ann momentarily lost her voice. When she found it, she really found it. "You-you-Gilligan! Professor! What have you done!"

At that moment a native outrigger filled with ferocious headhunters was gliding up the estuary at the mouth of the lagoon. They heard Mary Ann.

"What that?" cried one.

"Evil spirit!" cried another. "Sound very angry!"

The feather-crowned chief nodded. "Bad magic here! Leave this island!"

They turned their canoe about and paddled for open sea as fast as they could go.

"Uh...look on the bright side, Mary Ann!" Gilligan babbled. "Two-piece bathing suits are really in style now!"

"Aaaaah! I've never been so embarrassed in my life! Don't just stand there! Do something!"

The Professor elbowed Gilligan in the ribs. "Gilligan, we've got to get help! Get the women! Get some clothes!"

"Yeah! Good idea!"

Both men spun and sprinted for the jungle.

At the jungle's edge the two men skidded to a halt and stared at each other. "Gilligan! Where are you going?" demanded the Professor.

"Back to camp, like you said!"

"We can't both go! One of us has to stay here with Mary Ann! Don't you remember the Skipper's orders? No one's to be left in the water alone!"

Gilligan nodded. "Fine! Back in a minute!" He made a dash for the trees but the Professor made a desperate lunge and grabbed him by the arm. Gilligan swung around so hard he nearly spun the two of them off balance.

"Wait a minute! Let's be logical about this!" The Professor jerked his thumb at his own chest. "I'll go back to camp!"

"What kind of logic is that? I oughtta go! I run faster than you do!"

"You'll stay! You swim better than I do!"

"What? Oh, no! I'm not swimming anywhere!"

"Professor, Gilligan – do something!"

Panicked birds took flight and winged off through the air.

"Gilligan, we can't just stand here arguing!" the Professor insisted. "One of us has to go for help!"

"Who's arguing? I'm volunteering!"

Suddenly the Professor thought of the oldest trick in the world. Stabbing a finger at the lagoon, he shouted, "Look!" When Gilligan did, the Professor ran.

To be fair to the Professor, he had not looked himself when he'd pointed, and therefore had no idea that Mary Ann had put her arms down so that she could tread water. She was also bobbing rather high in said water. As a result, Gilligan was treated to quite a view before Mary Ann's shriek of indignation had him cowering behind his hands again.

Gilligan elbowed the empty air beside him. "Professor! What was I supposed to be looking at? Professor?" The first mate pried his fingers open a crack and peeped around. He searched in vain for a glimpse of the Professor's torso, head or legs, but all he saw was sand and trees. Dread and disbelief building in his heart, Gilligan pulled his hands away. "Professor! Where are you?" He spun around towards the lagoon. "Mary Ann, did you see where—"

"Gilligan!"

"Aaagh!" Gilligan hid his eyes again. "Sorry, Mary Ann!"

He turned and ran for the jungle, but the Skipper's orders boomed in his memory. Now hear this! No one's to be in the water alone!

Then Mary Ann's cry rang in his ears. "Gilligan! Please don't leave me alone out here!"

Gilligan skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees, stymied. Cupping his hands, he howled into the jungle. "Professor! Hurry!"

The Professor pelted down the trail through the leafy jungle, guiltily half-expecting a bolt of lightning to blast him on the spot. But no heavenly agent of justice came, and at last he dashed into camp, breathless with his errand.

"Ginger! Mrs. Howell!" he shouted as he stood alone by the bamboo table, panting for breath. "I need your help!"

When no one rushed out of the huts to join him, the Professor swung his head around. He could see nobody, and the camp was very quiet – too quiet. "Mr. Howell? Skipper? Is anybody here?"

He ran to the crew's hut and clutched the bamboo window frame as he peered inside. "Skipper?" The hut was empty.

A tingle of fear began to creep up the Professor's spine. He raced to the Howell hut and rapped a few times at the blanket-draped French doors. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell? Mr. and Mrs. Howell, it's very important! May I come in?"

When no one answered, he thrust the doors open without ceremony. This hut was empty too. The kapa-cloth covered beds lay neatly made and the beaded curtain to the other room swayed gently in the cross-breeze from the window.

The Professor rushed over, rattling the beads as he swept them to one side. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell? Are you home?"

Now panic was setting in. The Professor ran outside and made for the hut that was his last hope, praying that Ginger would suddenly lift the orange curtains and start watering the window-box. "Ginger! Ginger, are you there? I need you!"

The curtains remained in place and window-box stayed dry. The Professor hammered on the wooden door. "Ginger! It's urgent! You've got to help me!" Throwing propriety to the winds, the Professor charged in and found himself horribly alone. Panting, he cast helpless eyes at the pillows, bottles, flowers and draperies of the ladies' boudoir. At last he spotted one of the tall wardrobes, fashioned from salvaged planks and a curtain of sailcloth. "Aha!" the Professor gasped in relief. "Clothes!"

The Professor tore the curtain across to see dresses hanging like a chorus-line packed into a sardine can. Frantically he grabbed one down, stared at it, and realized it was certainly not going to fit Mary Ann.

A deep voice boomed in his ear. "Professor! What in the seven seas are you doing?"

The Professor whirled. "Skipper! Thank goodness! Where is everyone?"

The Skipper was beginning to wish he'd knocked first. He blinked at the Professor, whose front was draped in beaded beige satin. "I sent Gilligan to the lagoon to get something for supper. Ginger's taking a sunbath, the Howells are off practicing for the contest somewhere, and I thought Mary Ann was supposed to be with you. What's gotten into you, Professor? And what are you doing with that dress?"

"I need clothes!" the Professor exclaimed.

The Skipper pushed back his captain's cap, the confusion in his blue eyes turning to worry. "Well, no offense, Professor, but I'd say that outfit looks a lot better on Ginger than it does on you! Are you feeling all right?"

The Professor huffed in frustration as he tossed down the dress on the bed. "Skipper, don't be ridiculous! It's not for me! It's for Mary Ann!"

"For Mary Ann? Does Ginger know about this?"

"Of course not!"

The Skipper reached out and snatched up the beaded dress. "Then what's the big idea? Let Mary Ann wear her own clothes! Whoever wins this beauty contest is gonna win it fair and square!"

Rolling his eyes, the Professor hurried over to the other wardrobe and reefed the curtain across to reveal Mary Ann's clothes. "Skipper, you don't understand! Mary Ann's in the water!"

"In the water? What water?" The Skipper dropped the dress and clutched his hat in alarm. "My gosh, is she okay? She hasn't gone swimming in the strong surf, has she?"

"No, no! She's in the lagoon!" The Professor was fumbling through Mary Ann's wardrobe now, tossing garments down on the other bed with comments of, "No! Too tight! Too loose! Too delicate!"

The Skipper was baffled. The Professor's sudden obsession with women's fashion could hardly have come at a worse time. "Well, is she in trouble? Is she drowning? What'd you go and leave her for?"

"She's not drowning, Skipper! She's perfectly fine! Besides, Gilligan is with her!"

The Skipper scratched his head. "Then what's all the panic about?"

The Professor turned, nearly stamping his foot in frustration. "Mary Ann has no clothes!"

"Well...what's she want clothes for if she's in the water? They'd get all wet – even shrink, maybe!"

The time had come for the naked truth. "I mean she is in the altogether, Skipper! In the nude! Gilligan tore her bathing suit off of her!"

"He what?" The Skipper folded his arms. "All right, Professor, I think you must have gone off the deep end for sure! My little buddy would never dream of—"

"By accident, Skipper! He didn't mean to! Mary Ann was swimming in the lagoon and Gilligan tore the suit with a fishhook! Now she's down there in the lagoon with nothing on and she can't get out 'til she has something to cover herself with!"

The Skipper blinked. "And Gilligan's with her?"

"Yes! On shore! He's waiting for me to get back!"

The Skipper's eyes lit as a big grin slowly stole across his whole face. His laughter bubbled up until it boomed around the little hut.

The Professor drew himself up. "Skipper! I see nothing whatsoever amusing about this!"

The Skipper roared. "Oh, Professor! That's only because you can't see your face! It's worth a million dollars! Oh, I wish I could see Gilligan's right now! Ho, ho! I'll kid him for months!"

"Skipper, this is serious!"

By now the old sea-dog was fairly doubled over in his mirth. "'Catch anything nice in the lagoon today, huh, little buddy? Need any help cleaning it?' Ha ha ha!"

"Look, Skipper, we need Ginger, and we need her fast! Just get her and bring her to the lagoon, will you!"

"Oh, don't you worry, Professor. I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Clutching Mary Ann's red gingham dress to himself like a shield, the Professor dashed out the door.

The Skipper saluted the Professor as he ran. "Tell Gilligan to play her as long as he can!" His roar of laughter nearly raised the roof.

Back at the lagoon, Gilligan was still facing the trees, his elbows akimbo. He felt his cheeks must now be matching the colour of his shirt.

Mary Ann was watching his red-shirted back as she treaded water. She was quiet now, though still absolutely mortified. Gilligan's attempt to pass the time by asking her what she thought of the Dodgers had not helped any, nor had her one disastrous query about how it felt to be the judge of a beauty contest. The moment he'd innocently answered, "I gotta be honest with you, Mary Ann. I don't wanna judge this contest at all. The Skipper says if you think something's not right you should just make a clean breast – I mean break - ulp!" her cheeks had felt like hot coals, and she was sure the temperature of the lagoon had risen by about ten degrees. Every moment Gilligan still stood there only a few feet away, she felt the temperature rise a little more.

At last Mary Ann decided to swim off into the deeper centre of the lagoon where the water was cooler. When she found a pleasant spot she stopped, her legs cycling down, down into the shadowy depths, her arms sweeping the bubbling water back over her shoulders. Tiny, bizarre fish darted about just beneath the surface, their hues and shapes nothing Mary Ann had ever seen in the old swimming hole at Horners Korners.

Suddenly Mary Ann felt a cold something sweep against her calf and vanish. A moment later she felt it again: long, cold and sinuous. With a gulp Mary Ann looked down and caught a glimpse of a huge serpentine shape writhing through the gloom. She kicked and moved away, but now there were even more of the things, twisting and undulating through the deep water all around her. All at once she felt a thick, cold, slimy coil twine itself around her leg. When she kicked, it tightened.

"Gilligan! Gilligan, help! It's got me!"

On the now far-off bank, Gilligan spun. There was no playing peek-a-boo now. "Oh, my gosh! What is it, Mary Ann?" he shouted, terrified by her terror.

Mary Ann's scream was high enough to shatter glass. "Giant eels! They've got my leg! Help!"

"Hang on, Mary Ann! I'll save you!" Without a second thought the first mate dove into the lagoon like a torpedo and shot towards her. Rainbows of spray arced as he stroked through the water at top speed. In the meantime Mary Ann screamed, kicked and flailed, conscious only of the swaying shapes around her and the tight, slimy grip on her calf. She barely registered the white of Gilligan's hat and the red of his shirtsleeves growing nearer as he cleaved the water. At last, with one desperate kick, Mary Ann felt the loop on her leg snap. Gasping, she lifted her leg from the water, and saw coiled about it the green stem and trailing leaves of tropical seaweed.

Mary Ann gulped in lungfuls of air, half-dazed with relief. Paddling on her back, she looked around and realized that the tall shapes beneath her were a forest of kelp, gently swaying in the current. She choked, half-laughing, her leg still held up out of the water. "Gilligan, look!" she called happily, as the drenched first mate slowed to a stop about six feet away. She pointed. "Look! It was only seaweed!"

"Oh!" he gasped, his grin soon mirroring hers. "Thank goodness!"

They stayed that way for about a moment, both staring at her upraised leg. Then they looked at one another. For about five seconds.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

It was difficult to tell which one screamed louder.

Mary Ann's leg plunged down and her hands flew up over her chest. "Gilligan! What are you doing! Get out of here!"

Gilligan was cowering behind his arms. "I'm sorry, Mary Ann!" Blindly he turned and hurtled towards shore as if chased by a hammerhead shark. Foam flew in his wake; fish fled out of his way. In moments he stumbled out of the shallows and would have flapped off like a frantic wet fowl, when he stopped himself again. The Skipper's orders.

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann sounded almost in tears. "You didn't see anything, did you?"

Gilligan's hands were over his eyes again. "No, Mary Ann! Honest!" Lying was a sin, but he thought he'd chance it. There wouldn't be many coconut cream pies from here on otherwise. "Professor!" he wailed. "Where are you?"