Gilligan walked out of the jungle and approached the community table. His nose was in one of his comic books, so he didn't notice MaryAnn was setting down a pie. "Wow," she said. "I think that's the first time I've baked a pie and you haven't already been at the table with a fork in your hand and an expectant grin on your face."

"Huh, What?" he asked, finally looking up. "Oh, Hi, MaryAnn. I'm sorry. I just found one of my comic books that had been lost for a long time. I forgot how much I liked this one. It's got aliens and zombies and everything." She laughed at his bright-eyed enthusiasm.

"Well, you can enjoy your comic book all you want, but DON'T touch the pie. It's cooling AND it's for the Howell's. This is a special day for them. Some anniversary of the stock market hitting a certain mark . . . or something along that line," she said, chuckling. "I mean it, Gilligan," she stressed. "Don't eat that pie." She walked off towards her hut.

"Okay, okay. I get it," he huffed. He sat down at the end of the table and read some more. Zack hid behind the bush. He watched the light in the sky get closer. 'Carrie, look out. It's the aliens . . . they're back.' The spaceship lands . . .

"Hey, Little Buddy," Skipper called out as he came into the clearing. "You want to go . . . say, is that pie for dinner?"

"No," Gilligan answered. "It's for the Howells, so don't eat it. MaryAnn'll get real mad at you." He still hadn't looked up from his comic. "Zack, be careful, they're zombies!"

Skipper noticed that Gilligan was too far gone in his comic book to be torn away for some fishing, so he kept going toward the supply hut to get his gear.

Meanwhile, Professor and Ginger came walking by, out for a mid-morning stroll, heading out to find a new species of fern that Professor wanted to study. As they walked by, Gilligan called out, absent-mindedly, "Don't touch the pie. It's not for you."

Professor and Ginger, who hadn't even noticed the pie, chuckled at both his comment and the fact that he never looked up from his comic book.

He was still reading, somewhat aloud, "Carrie, Noooooooo. Let go of her, you beasts." He was so caught up in the story that he did not realize that he had slid the pie plate closer to himself and picked up a fork. "Zack picked up a pitchfork and stabbed the alien-zombie." He took a bite. "Carrie, I'll save you." He took another bite.

By the time Zack had killed all the alien-zombies, only to find that Carrie had become one of them, Gilligan had almost finished the pie. MaryAnn came out of her hut on her way to start preparing lunch. As she walked by the table, she saw Gilligan, reading intensely, with the fork halfway up to his mouth. "Oh Gilligan!" she cried furiously, with her hands on her hips, stomping her little kitten heel. "How could you?"

Gilligan looked up, confused. "Huh? How could I . . . oh." He noticed the fork in his hand. "Uh-Oh." He noticed the 'almost empty' pie plate. "MaryAnn, I'm sorry." His face crumpled. "I didn't mean to. I just . . . I just" he stopped as she was rapidly storming away from him.

MaryAnn avoided him for the rest of the day. Everything he tried to do to cheer her up just brought angry glares in his direction. Finally giving up, he slumped off to bed, hoping that in the morning, she will have forgiven him.

Gilligan tossed and turned. He was thrashing in his hammock in the midst of a horrible nightmare. In it, he had been on the beach, it was night; he saw a light in the sky and watched it come closer.

It was a spaceship – a round flying saucer, actually, and it was heading right for their island. He would have expected to be excited at the thought of meeting real aliens, but in his dream, he was really scared. He got behind some bushes to watch what happened.

The spaceship landed, and the door slowly opened. Gilligan could see right into the vessel. First he saw feet . . . lots of them, and they were shuffling down the loading ramp. As they got down to the bottom, the light from inside illuminated the scene. Gilligan could see quite clearly that they were some sort of zombie-like creatures. They looked dangerous – they looked hungry.

Gilligan ran for the compound – faster than he had ever run in his life. The others were all seated around the table, eating pies. Lots of them – all over the table, piled high.

"Run, RUN, RUNRUNRUN" he started screaming as he barreled into the clearing. "ZOMBIES – ALIENS – ALIEN ZOMBIES. They're COMING and we've GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE."

"Oh Gilligan, don't be silly," said MaryAnn. "Come here and have some pie. I made one especially for you."

"NO NO NO, MaryAnn – come on – come with me, we've got to go NOW." He was starting to get frantic. He looked into the jungle. He couldn't see them, but he could feel them coming.

"Skipper, Professor – please, please listen to me. They are coming and they're going to kill all of us. I know it. We've got to go – we need to hide. The caves – if we can get into the caves, I know we'll be safe." He wasn't sure how he knew this, but it felt right.

"Gilligan," said Skipper calmly. "You should come eat some pie. MaryAnn made one just for you. Come on, now, sit down and eat."

"Yes, Gilligan," said Professor with a huge smile. "Come and eat some pie."

The Howells held their pies out to him. They started walking towards him. Then all of them started coming towards Gilligan holding their pies, all saying "Eat, Gilligan. Eat some pie. We made it just for you."

Gilligan was beyond frantic. He backed up towards the jungle opposite where he knew the Zombie Aliens were coming from. "Won't any of you come? Won't you come to the caves with me?" He was practically crying.

But they just kept coming with their pies. "Eat, Gilligan, eat."

But Gilligan couldn't stay, and they wouldn't come. So he turned and ran into the dark jungle, heading for a series of caves on the western side of the island. He was truly crying, now. As he ran, he struggled to breath, as he was going uphill now.

He reached the caves. He didn't have anything to light his way, but he felt the frantic need to get into those caves, NOW. He could sense the creatures behind him in the jungle.

He felt his way through the first section of caves. He heard footsteps shuffling behind him. He kept going back into a series of tunnels, now, feeling his way with his hands. Up ahead, he saw a faint light. He couldn't imagine how a light got that deep into the caves, but he kept going towards it.

When he got to the end of the tunnel, he could see a door . . . a closed door with a light coming from underneath. He looked over his shoulder, but it was too dark to see anything. He could hear them, though, and he could smell them.

He pushed through the door, and found himself in his old, childhood kitchen. His parents were sitting at the table, eating pies. His sister was taking two more out of the refrigerator.

"Hi William," she called. "Look, your friend, MaryAnn made these pies for us. They're delicious. Come eat some."

Then his little brother came racing into the kitchen. "Yay, PIE! PIE PIE PIE PIEPIEPIEPIE!"

And the four of them picked up the pies and started walking towards him. "Eat the pie, William. Eat. Eat the pie."

Gilligan felt the door behind him suddenly bump against him as if there was someone . . . or something . . . pushing on the other side. It opened fast, hitting him in the back and propelling him into the middle of the kitchen.

He looked over his shoulder in horror, expecting the Alien Zombies to come pouring into the room. Instead, it was Skipper, then Professor and MaryAnn, then the Howells, and then Ginger. They were all carrying pies. The ten people, all holding pies, were slowly advancing on the petrified first mate.

"Eat, Gilligan. Eat the pies. Eat the pies, Gilligan," they were chanting. They got closer. They were surrounding him. He was sitting on the floor as they approached him. He screamed. He kicked out with his feet, and he thrashed his arms. He was flailing wildly, screaming.

"Gilligan, stop it." Skipper's voice was registering in his head. "Gilligan, wake up, Little Buddy. You're having a nightmare." He felt the Skipper's hands on his arm.

"Aaaaaaghhhhhhhh – get off – get off – GET AWAY" he screamed. His flailing arm made contact with Skipper's head. His knee connected with Skipper's arm.

"Ouch, Gilligan, you Knucklehead. Knock it off." Skipper was bellowing, now. He pulled Gilligan off the hammock and stood him up. "Wake up, Gilligan. It's just a dream."

Suddenly, Gilligan was standing there in his hut, gasping, wide-eyed, frantically turning his head to verify his surroundings.

"Oh, Skipper. Oh!" He bent over and put his hands on his knees, while he tried to catch his breath. "That was the scariest nightmare I ever had."

The two of them headed out to the community table for breakfast. Gilligan was placing his hat on his head, and Skipper was walking with his arm around his little buddy's shoulders. Gilligan was looking at Skipper, grinning at his own foolishness, when he spied MaryAnn and Ginger coming around the corner of the hut. They were both carrying what looked like pies.

"AAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH," Gilligan screamed frantically. "No PIES!" and he backed away from the girls, looking back and forth between them and the pies. And with that, he ran into the jungle, heading for the hills.

The other castaways stood there, in shock, staring at each other for a minute. Then, one by one, they shrugged and sat down at the table, and dug in to the delicious breakfast pies that MaryAnn had made.