Note: This is the original Ginger we all know and love, from the show!
It had been too long since she had been up on stage. And now . . . . good grief, it was already the eighties!
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer sat to the right of the stage, speaking into the microphone. His lips were too close to the mike, making the sound ring a little with each word. "Give a warm welcome to the castaway of Hollywood's finest—Ginge-e-e-r-r Grant!"
This is my cue.
The applause rung louder than anything Ginger had heard in years. She walked onto the stage (feeling a little awkward, being used to their make-shift stage on the island), and gave her biggest and sincerest grin she had given since Gilligan remembered her birthday.
The last month we were on the island . . . No, I can't think about that now.
She accepted the mike from Chuck, the stage's best announcer and opener, and looked into the roaring crowd. Two cameramen were in front of her, one on the left and the other on her right. None of the castaways were out there.
And why should they be? They've all waited years and years to get back to their home, and this isn't it. But—they are at least watching this on TV, aren't they? At least Gilligan, right? He wouldn't forget about me! Or Mary Ann, Skipper, Professor—even the Howells!
"Thank you, everybody!" She allowed her grin to go down. "I would like to dedicate this next song to everybody that's watching this right now," she gave a little laugh, "but especially the people that were shipwrecked with me all those years. And if any of them are watching this right now? Well, I miss you guys." She wiped away a tear that had rolled halfway down her cheek. "So, this one is for them."
She cleared her throat a little as the crowd cheered once again.
"Three of us had sung this together, when The Mosquitoes came to the island," she laughed again, "and we were trying to get them to leave and take us with them."
But of course they hadn't. And now that the castaways were all back, they were still spotting out those who tried to wreak havoc on the island. Like the hunter that had tried to hunt Gilligan, Jonathan Kincaid. Police officials had caught him after Gilligan's wild descriptions (that consisted of using his arms as the gun and stabbing himself in the foot with an imaginary spear).
"You need us,
"You nee-heed us!"
The crowd started cheering and whooping again, until the auditorium was booming with voices and moving people. Ginger stuttered back, stunned by the amount of people there were.
And then, she saw the castaways in the center of it all. Everything grew silent.
Suddenly, it was only the castaways. They were all looking up at her with wide and mocking eyes, like they knew an embarrassing secret, and hands behind their backs. Ginger looked down, and saw the make-shift stage they had made within the first few weeks they were on the island and had the beauty contest. The dress, the one that she had saved even after they were rescued (no matter how shabby it was, and the fact it was basically in rags by now), switched out the navy blue dress she had on only moments before. As a matter of fact, they were on the island now!
But the one castaway that wasn't there: Gilligan.
She looked at everybody again. They all were in the clothes they were in during the shipwreck!
"Hello, Ginger."
She took a step back. They had said this in perfect unison. "Wh-where's Gilligan?"
Mary Ann said, in a sickly sweet voice with her head even cocked a little, "Why, Gilligan is fine, honey."
"Ca-can I see him?"
They all parted, revealing Gilligan. She hadn't seen him in so long . . . "Gilligan?"
He looked up at her with pitiful puppy eyes, and a trembling lip.
"Why aren't you at my performance?"
"Because I don't belong there, Ginger. Gee, I'm awfully sorry!"
His soft voice startled her. "What?! Of course you belong there—I mean, here!" Ginger looked around—she had no clue as to why there wasn't any shock of being back on the island, or how she got here.
Er, there.
"That's what I mean," He took a large step back and outstretched his arms. "I belong here. Not there." His arms dropped. "I'm sorry, Ginger. But I don't wanna leave the island! I almost have more friends here as I did back home!"
"But—" Her lip began to tremble, "You belong with us, back at home! You can't just stay here for the rest of your life!"
The words hit her like a ton of bricks. Maybe . . . maybe she didn't want to leave herself. These people were her family now, they were closer to her than any movie producer or announcer had ever been.
But especially Gilligan. Gosh, especially Gilligan. He just found a way to mess things up, and then make them better again. His childish innocence made it so hard to stay mad at him, the Skipper was the only man who could hold a grudge . . .
For a few days.
"Sure I can," he grinned. "Become an ape-man, like that one guy who pretended to be for his acting career, ya' remember that Ginger? Except I won't be a pretend ape-man, I'll be a real ape-boy! Er, man. It was especially funny when he spoke his first words to us, when that mother ape snuck up behind him. Remember that Ginger? Huh? But the Skipper wasn't too happy afterwards, when he left." Gilligan's smile slowly drooped down. "But that's why I want to stay here. Because they always leave. Always."
"But—no!" She stomped her foot on the ground. "No! They don't always leave us! Remember that surfer that washed up on the beach? He went back to the mainland, but he hit his head and just lost his memory! It wasn't technically his fault."
He shrugged. "But The Mosquitoes? The ape-man? Jonathan Kincaid? The movie producer, everybody that was on the island all left us!"
She had no comeback for that one.
"They all left us. Why do they keep leaving us Ginger?"
"I don't know—"
"Neither do I. So I'm going to stay here, and never let them not let us off the island again!" He slowly began to back away, into the forest.
Ginger tried going after him, but the castaways held her back. "No! Let me go!"
Ginger sat up in bed just then, with "Let me go!" Still coming out of her lips.
Everybody was in her hut now, staring at her with soothing eyes.
Not those dark, mocking ones from her dream.
"Ginger?"
Her eyes set on Gilligan.
"Are you alright? Why are you crying?"
She felt her cheek. It was wet. A soft moan escaped her lips as she hugged Gilligan. "Promise me something, Gilligan."
He was stunned from her hug impact. "Sh-sure, anything."
"Ginger," Skipper said warningly, "Are you feeling alright?"
"Just let Gilligan answer me, Skipper. All of you. When we get off this island...ah-I know we will - promise me we'll all see each other every now and then."
"Of course!" They all chided together.