A/N: Thanks so much to Teobi for beta-ing this for me. Not being the most knowledgeable of GI fans, or indeed not a very longstanding fan at all, all the help I can get is truly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilligan's Island. Or Gilligan's hat. If I did, it would be in the Smithsonian next to Fonzie's jacket…
No Woman, No Pie
Gilligan sighed. All he'd said was 'mum'. The Professor had told him that 'mum' was the word, and Gilligan had said 'mum'. Lots of times. 'Mum mum mum mum mum mum mum!' It wasn't his fault that Skipper, Ginger, Mary Ann and Mr and Mrs Howell had guessed what was going on!
He should have known Ginger would try kissing him to get information out of him. She always did. Where did she learn her interrogation technique, anyway? No policeman Gilligan had ever encountered tried to get information that way. There again, Gilligan hadn't encountered many policemen, so perhaps Ginger was doing it right after all. It still seemed a little drastic, though.
He'd said 'mum' to Mary Ann as well. He'd explained. 'Mum' was the word. The Professor had told him what the word was, and the word was 'mum'. Mary Ann had pretended to understand! She'd said he mustn't tell if he'd made a promise to the Professor. Then she told him she'd never let him have her coconut crème pie again! Mary Ann definitely didn't play fair. She was just like a girl.
There's only so much torture a man can take, Gilligan thought.
"Mum," he muttered, bitterly. Now, he was sat alone, leaning against a palm tree in the sunshine, waiting for the storm. The Professor was mad with him – as mad as the Professor ever got, anyway – for telling everybody, even though he hadn't told them, he'd just said 'mum'. He could cope with a moody Professor, but living without Mary Ann's pie? He was a man too, y'know! He had needs! At that moment, he needed Mary Ann's coconut crème pie - and lots of it.
He was so fixated on the thought of all those pies he'd never get to eat, that he was barely aware of the wave of tiredness that gently washed over him. Before he knew it, he had fallen fast asleep under the tree.
Finally he got up and headed towards the camp. Just in time for dinner. Skipper had once said that he could set his watch by Gilligan's stomach. Gilligan wasn't sure if it was the best method of measuring time, but he didn't like to argue about scientific things like that. Mainly because he was half-afraid the Professor would get involved and spend an hour lecturing him about time. Gilligan's eyes started to glaze over at the thought.
"Of course, we calculate time on earth based on the speed at which the earth rotates around the sun. It takes twenty-four hours for the earth to rotate on its axis once..." the Professor might say.
Gilligan was sure that the Professor's lectures would be more interesting if the earth spun faster.
Everyone sat around the tables, giggling amongst themselves and helping themselves to huge slices of pie. Suddenly, everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw Gilligan walk towards them. The atmosphere suddenly felt cold, and nobody looked remotely pleased to see Gilligan. This puzzled Gilligan greatly. Normally, everyone was pleased to see him, except sometimes the Skipper when he'd sat down on a chair that Gilligan had just varnished, or Mr Howell when Gilligan did something that might have cost money, or Mary Ann when… no, Mary Ann always seemed quite pleased to see him. Except for now, when she… well… if Gilligan didn't know any better, he could have sworn Mary Ann was glaring at him!
"I thought I told you, Gilligan? No pie for you," Mary Ann began, putting her hands on her hips and looking sternly at him. Gilligan's eyes widened. He didn't think she'd really meant it.
"Mum!" he protested, then clasped his hands over his mouth in shock. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say at all. He'd meant to say "But, Mary Ann!"
"I know, Gilligan, that's what you said. 'Mum'. 'Mum's the word. Well. Around here, 'pie' is the word, not 'mum', and I told you, you won't get any pie from me," she answered, firmly.
Gilligan was horrified. Mary Ann would never be so unreasonable about his having access to her pie.
"Mum!" he yelped, pained at the thought. He and Mary Ann both looked surprised by his response. Why did he keep saying 'mum'? He'd definitely tried to say, "Don't be so mean, Mary Ann! You always let me have some pie!"
"What is the matter with you, Gilligan?" she demanded, really starting to look annoyed.
"I wish you'd just learned to keep mum a little better before all this happened," the Professor told him. Gilligan sighed, his shoulders dropping in despair.
"Mum," he agreed, mournfully. The Professor eyed him, suspiciously, as Gilligan looked up at him, surprised at his statement. He really needed to stop saying 'mum'. He tried, but the only word that seemed to come out was 'mum'. If only he'd kept mum so well earlier, he'd be having as much pie as he could feasibly manage!
"Are you making fun of me, Gilligan?" he asked, frowning. Gilligan shook his head frantically.
"Mum!" he responded, vehemently. Mary Ann and the Professor gave him a contemptuous glare and shook their heads in disgust.
"Ignore him, Professor. Here, would you like another slice of pie?" she offered. The Professor beamed at her.
"I'd love a slice of pie, Mary Ann," he replied, his blue eyes sparkling at her. She blushed and giggled coyly.
"You make sure you have as much pie as you like, Professor," she encouraged him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately and glaring pointedly at Gilligan. His large blue-green eyes looked back at her mournfully. This was all terribly unfair.
Why was Mary Ann so fond of the Professor all of a sudden, anyway? He didn't even like pie! He'd once spent all morning telling Gilligan that too much pie… did… something… to… somewhere… Gilligan couldn't quite remember exactly what the Professor had said, but he did remember that the Professor had vaguely warned him he'd end up looking like the Skipper if he carried on eating too much pie.
Not that there was anything wrong with the Skipper. Oh, no. He was Gilligan's best friend in just about the whole world. Skipper wouldn't be angry with his little buddy. He'd probably even let him have some of his own pie. Gilligan briefly smiled happily at the thought, then relented and shook his head, pursing his lips in frustration. Skipper would never share pie.
He sat down next to Skipper and beamed at him.
"Mum!" he declared happily, then covered his mouth with both his hands in shock.
"Little buddy, I've had just about enough of you keeping mum for one day!" Skipper began, shoving a huge forkful of creamy pie into his mouth. Gilligan's lower lip trembled slightly with emotion.
Everyone had pie except for him! Mrs Howell was daintily ploughing through her pie with a dessert fork. Mr Howell had given up with the formalities and picked the pie up with his bare hands and practically buried his face in the pie. The Professor charged his way through Mary Ann's pie like some sort of pie lumberjack. If there was such a thing. If there was such a thing, Gilligan suddenly decided that he would like to be one. Yes. He would be a pie lumberjack… a piejack! Yes! And he would go off and live in a cave somewhere far away from everyone, and he would make his living by piejacking. He frowned to himself. He was pretty sure the rent was quite cheap on a cave, so he'd probably only have to piejack once or twice a week.
That still didn't explain why the Professor was making short work of Mary Ann's pie and all Gilligan could do was sit and watch, uncomfortably, feeling pangs of jealousy at not having any pie of his own.
"Here, Gilligan, come and have some of my pie," Ginger suddenly offered, handing her plate to him. She had that funny look about her eyes that told Gilligan that if he went anywhere near her, she might end up kissing him again. He didn't want pie that badly. He shook his head and folded his arms firmly.
"Mum," he replied, curtly, then unfolded his arms so he could bury his face in his hands. "Muuuuummmm!" he yelled, almost beside himself at his inability to do anything other than keep mum.
"Oh, Gilligan! For goodness' sake! Why are you being so childish? Fine. If you stop saying 'mum', you can have some pie. Just stop saying 'mum'! Please!" Mary Ann begged, holding out the last slice of pie to him.
He looked at the pie. It smelled just as sweet as ever. The crumbly, short pastry at the bottom was perfectly baked and lightly golden. He could tell just by looking at it that it would be just crunchy enough without being too dry. He looked at the coconut crème filling and couldn't help but run the smallest tip of his tongue across his lips as he imagined how it would taste. He looked up at Mary Ann, hopefully, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of finally tasting the pie.
"Really. Have all the pie you want, Gilligan. All you need to do is just ask me for it," she told him, smiling gently at him. Gilligan's stomach started feeling as though he'd eaten too much jell-o as he smiled a bashful smile back at Mary Ann. He decided it must be because he was so hungry.
Gilligan clamped his lips together nervously as he looked from the pie to Mary Ann, and then back to the pie.
"Go on, Gilligan, just ask me," she reassured him, squeezing his arm gently. "It's all right, really."
Finally, Gilligan took a deep breath, closed his eyes and went for it.
"Mum!" he blurted out. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily at his failure.
Mary Ann rolled her eyes and threw the plate with the final slice of pie over her shoulder into the sand.
"Muuuuuuuuuuummmmm!" Gilligan yelled, leaping towards the pie and trying to save it.
"Gilligan!" Mary Ann protested.
"Mum! Mum mum mum mum mum!" Gilligan wailed, sliding to his knees aside the sand-coated pie. Mary Ann shook her head and took two steps over to him, then started shaking him by his shoulders.
"Gilligan! Gilligan, what are you trying to say?" she asked, almost sounding worried. "Gilligan? Gilligan?" she repeated, her voice getting softer and softer.
Suddenly, Gilligan opened his eyes and saw Mary Ann shaking him by the shoulders.
"Gilligan! Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" she told him, sighing with relief. "You must have been having some very strange dream, all you could say was 'mum'!" she explained, giggling. Gilligan looked cautiously at her, then started moving his mouth gingerly as he tried to sound some words out.
"Mary Ann?" he began. He beamed at her, delighted that he could speak again. "Mary Ann!" he repeated. "Oh, Mary Ann! I had a horrible dream! I could only say 'mum'! 'Mum' was the word, and I couldn't say anything else, and everybody was angry with me, and you wouldn't let me have any pie – but you let the Professor have your pie, and then Ginger tried to make me have her pie, and I didn't want anybody else's pie, Mary Ann, I just wanted your pie!" he told her, fervently. Mary Ann shook her head and couldn't help but chuckle.
"Why didn't I let you have any pie?" she asked, confused.
"Because when I was keeping mum, you told me that I should keep my promise to the Professor, but you wouldn't let me have any more coconut crème pie. Or pineapple crème pie!" he lamented, burying his face in his hands. Mary Ann shook her head and smiled lovingly at him.
"Oh, Gilligan! I was only teasing, to try and make you tell me. I didn't mean it! You can have pie any time you like. In fact, I'll make one especially for you to eat all to yourself, if you like," she offered. His eyes lit up and his face was utterly overtaken by the biggest smile Mary Ann had ever seen.
"You mean it?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it. She nodded.
"As a matter of fact, I'll go and make it right now!" she promised, getting up from the sand and helping Gilligan up. He suddenly decided – being completely overwhelmed with emotion over the promise of pie – to wrap his arms around Mary Ann and give her a huge bear hug. "Gilligan!" she exclaimed, trying to hide her delight.
"You're the best pie-maker in the world, Mary Ann!" he told her happily, as they continued walking back to the rest of the camp.
THE END