Where the animals are
Skipper was angry. There was work to be done and his little buddy was nowhere in sight. He stomped to the Professor's hut, barging into the middle of an experiment.
"Professor! have you seen- "
The Professor knocked half a coconut to the floor, its contents spilling onto the sand. "I'm going to start calling you 'Gilligan'," he said with reproach.
Skipper went pale as he bent to help the Professor clean the mess. "Oh no, don't do that."
"Speaking of Gilligan, I take it that's who you're looking for?"
Skipper handed the Professor a cloth. "As a matter of fact, it is."
"Well, you won't find him here. I chased him away almost an hour ago. I thought it would be safer in here without him - apparently not."
Skipper blushed and twiddled his fingers. "This wouldn't have happened if he'd turned up for work like he was meant to. "
"Nice try." The Professor began pouring his potions, watching Skipper from the corner of his eye.
Skipper flashed a sickly smile. "Maybe I'll go and ask the girls."
"Just make sure they're not doing the laundry or the dishes. I'm fresh out of clean shirts and we don't want any more catastrophes."
Skipper went pink to the tips of his ears as he slunk out of the hut like a chastised little boy.
He found the girls sitting at the outdoor table, taking a break from their chores. They worked hard and he didn't begrudge them their rest- besides, he knew what would happen to him if he tried to speak to them the way he spoke to Gilligan.
"Hello, ladies," he said, smoothly. "I don't suppose either of you have seen my little buddy anywhere?"
"No we haven't, we've been too busy! We wouldn't even notice if the volcano erupted," said Ginger. She was filing her nails.
"Oh, I think you would," Skipper replied. "Hot ash would set fire to your hair and burn all the huts to the ground."
"Good. No more chores!"
Skipper smiled at the amusement in Ginger's beautiful green eyes. He turned to Mary Ann, bowing slightly. "How about you, Mary Ann? I know he asked you to go fishing with him this morning."
"Yes, but like Ginger said, we were busy. I had to patch a hole in someone's pants, and that's why I couldn't go fishing with Gilligan." Mary Ann smiled sweetly, tilting her head towards the Skipper.
"Oh, er... I see." Skipper had no doubt whose pants Mary Ann had been fixing. Suddenly he was eager to get going. "Well, I'll leave you ladies to it and go ask the Howells."
"Have fun," said Ginger, her green eyes wide and innocent.
"You too," said Skipper, waving his fingers.
"Oh, we have lots of fun sweeping and cleaning. Don't we, Mary Ann?"
"Oh yes," the brunette agreed. "Don't forget cooking and washing."
"And sewing. Lots of sewing."
Their voices became fainter as Skipper increased his speed until he was out of earshot. He was rapidly losing his patience for even the most gentle teasing. Why did Gilligan do this all the time? Disappear and make a fool of his commanding officer? The boy was going to get quite a cap slap when he finally showed up!
The Howells were on their sunloungers in the shade of some coconut trees by the lagoon. Skipper approached with his mouth open ready to speak but was cut off by Mr. Howell handing him a large green palm frond.
"Our houseboy seems to have taken the day off," the millionaire drawled.
"It's very bad form," Mrs. Howell agreed with a disapproving tut. "I'm positively melting!"
Before he knew what he was doing, the Skipper was fanning a cool breeze over the faces of two of the wealthiest people in America. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "As a matter of fact, I'm looking for your 'houseboy'. I guess you haven't seen him either."
Mr. Howell turned his face this way and that to get the best of the breeze. "My dear captain. I don't go looking for anyone. They come looking for me!"
"Like the IRS," the Skipper muttered under his breath.
"Gilligan was supposed to be here an hour ago," Mrs. Howell pouted. "He knows I have a mid morning mimosa between my breakfast mimosa and my lunchtime mimosa. Dehydration is dreadfully bad for one's skin!"
"If my wife turns into a prune I shall hold that boy personally responsible!"
The Skipper rolled his eyes as he waved the fan. "Would it be too difficult for you to make the drinks, Mr. Howell?"
The millionaire gasped in horror and flapped his hands towards his wife. "Cover your ears, Lovey! This man is blaspheming!"
"I'm getting nowhere fast," Skipper grumbled. He dropped the fan onto Mr. Howell's chest with a flourish and stomped into the trees without further ado.
The Skipper trudged through the forest with murder on his mind. After a while he noticed a flock of birds flying in circles just above the canopy. They squawked and banked, clearly interested in something below. Skipper's mouth went dry. He took his hat off and wiped his brow. Was there a dead animal in the undergrowth, or had something happened to Gilligan? Was he submerged in quicksand, or had he been ravaged by fire ants? Skipper had never seen fire ants on the island but that didn't mean they weren't there. If anyone was going to accidentally stumble over a mound of fire ants, it would be Gilligan.
Skipper left the path and began thrashing his way through thick foliage. He snapped branches and decapitated flowers as he barged ahead, heart pounding.
Don't be dead Little Buddy, don't be dead... you've made it this far, despite almost killing everyone else... what would we do without you? What would I do without you? Who else keeps me awake all night blabbering about zombies and aliens? I'd miss your feet in my face every morning as you fell out of your hammock. I'd miss all those Gilligan-induced migraines, although my hair might start growing back if I'm not tearing it out all the time, but I'd sure miss that throbbing sore spot on my scalp. Oh, Gilligan, my little buddy... don't you dare be dead or I'll personally kill you myself!
And then, as he pushed his way through the last clump of bushes which tore at his shirt and jabbed at his buttocks, he saw a wonderful thing. There was his little buddy, in the middle of a clearing, not in the least bit dead, in fact very much alive. Positively, magically alive- more alive than anyone Skipper knew. Alive, and happy, and surrounded by animals. Skipper pulled himself up short and ducked behind a tree. He peered around the gnarly trunk and began to watch the proceedings.
"You want another banana?" Gilligan raised his eyebrows at a young chimpanzee who pulled at his sleeve. "Okay, but don't come crying to me when you turn yellow!" He gave the little ape a banana and the mischievous creature climbed a tree to eat it. As soon as the chimp was gone, a parrot flew down and perched on Gilligan's shoulder. Skipper felt his heart swell as the First Mate scratched the top of the bird's head and kissed it on the beak.
"Hey, Sam. Found any jewels lately?"
The bird squawked and bobbed its head.
"You ever heard about the boy who cried wolf, little buddy?"
Skipper choked up at Gilligan calling the bird 'little buddy'.
"Besides," Gilligan continued, "you know how no one ever believes me, even when I'm telling the truth. You don't want to end up like me, huh?"
Skipper gulped. All of a sudden the collar of his shirt felt rather tight. He tugged it so that he could breathe better.
Some type of large rodent climbed onto Gilligan's knee and sniffed the air, its whiskers twitching.
"You sure do remind me of my friend Walter with those sticky out teeth of yours," said Gilligan, tickling the rodent under the chin. "I sure miss my friends- Skinny and Billy and Fatso and Florence, but you guys are just as good at being friends with me. You don't yell at me or hit me, or make me caddy for you when you play golf, or pretend to like me to get me to do stuff, or use big words that I don't understand. You just like me because I'm me."
The lump in Skipper's throat was threatening to choke him. The First Mate's voice grew softer and he strained his ears to hear what the boy was saying.
"Don't get me wrong though. I'm not complaining. Sometimes I deserve to be yelled at 'cause I can be pretty lazy and often I talk too much. And I don't really mind caddying for Mr. Howell because he gives me tips on how to play the Stock Market- whatever that is. Professor gets good ideas from me sometimes, and it's fun to hang out with Mrs. Howell and the girls, when they're not mad at me for breaking plates or messing up the huts. So I guess what I'm saying is, I'm a pretty lucky guy to have two sets of friends that I wouldn't change for all the snow in Alaska."
Skipper wiped the corner of his eye where a bug had got in. "Oh, little buddy," he sighed. "I wouldn't change you for all the snow in Alaska either."
A short while later, Mary Ann looked up from her sweeping to see Skipper emerging from the jungle, still dabbing at his eyes.
"Did you find Gilligan?" she asked, picking one of several twigs off his shoulder.
"I certainly did," the big man replied enigmatically.
Mary Ann looked around, puzzled. "Well? Where is he? I thought you wanted him to do chores."
"Chores shmores," said Skipper with a smile. He plucked the broom out of Mary Ann's hands. "That goes for you too, Mary Ann. Chores can wait. Why don't you take Gilligan a slice of your delicious coconut creme pie?"
Mary Ann stared at him in surprise. "I don't know what changed your mind Skipper, but I'd be happy to, if you'll tell me where he is!"
Skipper pointed over the trees to where the parrots dipped and soared, their bright colors flashing in the sun, displaying the wonders of nature in all their chaotic glory. "He's right where he belongs," he told the curious farm girl. "He's where the animals are."