The best advice I will ever give you: watch Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) at some point. Gilligan and Mary Ann quote from it extensively in this story. Also, it's just amazing and hilarious.
This story is my atonement for "I Fought The Law." Sorry if I traumatized you. This is pure fluff. Enjoy!
Attack of the 5 Foot Kansan
"Skipper?" Gilligan called as he approached his hut. He peeked inside and found the captain at the table mending a fish net with a bone needle. "Hey, Skipper, can I ask you a favor?"
"Well, that depends."
"On what?"
"On whether I want to do it or not." The captain grinned, but Gilligan frowned.
"But you won't know whether you want to do it until I ask it, and how can I ask it if you said me being able to ask it depends on whether you want to do what I'm going to ask you or not?" His face scrunched up in confusion. "I think."
"Just tell me what it is!" the Skipper yelled and accidentally jammed the needle into his hand. He gasped, but as usual Gilligan didn't seem to notice.
"Well, me and Mary Ann were talking about how much we missed going to the movies and I said we can have our own movie theatre here with the projector the Professor made when we filmed our silent movie. And since that crate of films washed up last month we'd have a bunch of stuff to watch. The Professor said the screen and projector are already up, but will you pedal it for us?"
"Oh ... oh, well, Gilligan, I'd hate to impose."
"Impose on what?"
"Your date."
"What date?"
"Your date with Mary Ann!"
Gilligan's eyes widened. "I have a date with Mary Ann?" he asked quietly.
The Skipper sighed and threw his fish net down on the table in a tangled mess. "What did you just come in here and tell me?" he demanded.
"I didn't ask her on a date, I asked her to the movies!" he squeaked.
"Gilligan, that's where people usually go on dates."
He was panicking now. "I went to the movies with Skinny Mulligan loads of times and it was never a date!"
The Skipper laughed and clapped a massive hand down on Gilligan's shaking shoulder. "I hate to break it to you, little buddy, but I think you just got yourself a date with a real live girl."
"I didn't mean to!"
"Did you take your hat off when you asked her?"
Gilligan's brow wrinkled as he tried to remember. "It fell off and I picked it up, but I hadn't put it back on yet. What difference does that make?"
The Skipper sighed. "Gilligan, don't you notice how you always take your hat off and wring it in your hands before you ask her to dance at a party? That's how she knows you're serious."
Gilligan looked totally flummoxed. "I do that?"
"Yes, you do that!" the exasperated captain yelled, rubbing a hand over his face. "What did she do when you asked her?"
"She got real excited and jumped up and down and kissed me on the cheek. But she always does that."
The Skipper shook his head. "You've really done it this time, little buddy."
"I didn't mean to!" he repeated, starting to become frantic.
"You wouldn't know what to do with a girl at the drive-in, would you, Gilligan?"
Gilligan had the wherewithal to look a little insulted. "Sure, I would! I'd get popcorn and cotton candy and a soda and set up the little speaker and watch the movie."
"And what about Mary Ann?"
Gilligan straightened up, offended. "Let her get her own popcorn."
"Gilligan!"
"Okay, okay. I'd share mine," he pouted, plopping down at the table.
The Skipper sighed in exasperation. "Gilligan, people don't go to the drive-in to watch the movie."
"I do. I saw Attack of the 50 Foot Woman seven times at the drive-in. My favorite part is when the sheriff and the butler go out in the desert with the riot gun and some grenades to track down the alien. And the butler says –."
"Gilligan!"
"No, he says –."
"Gilligan, while you were watching the movie, what was everyone else doing?"
"Well, Skinny and Florence were in the backseat kissing, but I didn't pay any attention to them. They missed the best part of the movie when the fifty foot woman rips the roof off the bar and pulls her husband out!"
The Skipper fixed Gilligan with his most patient look and crossed his massive arms over his chest. "And what were the people in the car next to you doing?"
Gilligan stopped his reenactment of the movie and sat down again, thinking hard. "Oh, well, they were..." His eyes widened. "Oh!"
"You remember when Ginger asked the Professor to the movies last week? The man barely escaped with his life!"
"But he came back in a real good mood, Skipper. He was –."
"Doop! Gilligan!" The Skipper clamped his hand over the first mate's mouth and glanced around to see if anyone was listening. He sat down at the table beside Gilligan and lowered his voice. "Don't you see what's happening here?"
Gilligan nodded emphatically, then changed his mind and shook his head.
"The women are using this to get to us," the Skipper whispered.
Gilligan slowly pulled the Skipper's hand away from his mouth. "They are?" he asked. The Skipper nodded and winked, but Gilligan looked perplexed. "No one's asked you to any movie."
# # # #
Later that night, Gilligan sat in the bamboo car. It was parked on a grassy ledge overlooking the ocean. His legs ached from pedaling the car up the hill, but the view was worth it. The giant glowing moon reflected on the water below and thousands of twinkling stars danced in the darkness. A cool breeze blew through the car's open windows and the soft rush of the waves echoed up from below. Gilligan sat facing straight ahead, fidgeting in the silence. His passenger was leaning on the dashboard, her chin on her arms, staring out to sea.
"Something bothering you, Mary Ann?" he asked after an eternity.
"What? Oh! Oh, no, Gilligan." She blinked at him as if she had forgotten he was there and sat up straight. "It's just that I thought we were going to the movies."
"Oh, well, they ran out of popcorn." Mary Ann eyed him doubtfully and he squirmed in his seat. "Power outage?" Finally he blurted in one breath: "Okay, the truth is that the Skipper made fun of me and told me that I asked you out on a date, but really I thought I just asked you to the movies, but he said that was the same thing and he told me what guys and girls do at the drive-in and then the Professor went to the movies with Ginger and he came back acting all weird and I got scared and decided not to go." He gasped for air and faced front again, staring wide-eyed into the darkness.
Beside him, Mary Ann's brain finally processed that run-on sentence and she laughed delightedly. "Gilligan! What kind of girl do you think I am?"
Gilligan peered at her sidelong. "Is that a trick question?"
"For the record, I like to watch the movie when I go to the movies."
"You do?" She nodded and Gilligan slumped against his seat in relief. "Me, too."
"Most of the time."
Gilligan's jaw dropped. "Mary Ann!" She was gazing innocently up at some spot out in the darkness. "Skinny and Florence never paid attention at the drive-in, so they always let me pick the movie. I saw Attack of the 50 Foot Woman seven times."
They were quiet for a moment. "My favorite part is when the butler goes after the alien with grenades," Mary Ann informed him and he grinned.
"Mine, too!"
"Where does a butler get grenades anyway?"
"I love it when she grows and they chain her up in the house." Gilligan turned in his seat to face Mary Ann, who was already giggling. "And the delivery guy comes over to bring the doctor all the stuff and he's all –." Gilligan pointed around the interior of the car, taking inventory of these imaginary items, "'Meat hooks, four lengths of chain, forty gallons of plasma, and an elephant syringe.' And all you see is her giant hand swinging around." Gilligan demonstrated and nearly swung himself off the seat.
"She still had a nice manicure," Mary Ann noted, impressed, "even though she was giant and crazy." Gilligan was giggling, and Mary Ann grinned. "'Where's my husband?'" she suddenly quoted in an impression of the main character's drunk and unstable shout and Gilligan laughed harder. Mary Ann got a wild look in her eye and glanced around suspiciously. "'I know where he is! He's with that redheaded floozy, isn't he? Isn't he?'"
Gilligan narrowed his eyes in his best Harry Archer imitation. "'You know, you're going to flip your lid just one time too many with me, Nancy,'" he said, voice low and smooth.
"'A gigolo. That's what you are, Harry. You're a miserable parasite! You're just after my money!'" Mary Ann reached out and shoved on Gilligan's arm and he fell back against the car door, laughing uncontrollably. "'I was rid of you once. Why did I take you back, Harry?'" Mary Ann grabbed handfuls of his shirt, tugging on it, becoming more and more melodramatic with every sentence."'Why? Why?'"
Gilligan was trying to control himself, but failing miserably. He set his mouth in a determined line, lips twitching with the threat of laughter. "'Why did you, Nancy?'" he was able to ask coolly before his face crumbled and he broke down again.
"'Why?'" Mary Ann stopping pulling on him and looked up, staring off into space with a hazy look in her eye, gripping fistfuls of his shirt. Gilligan was watching her in anticipation. Finally her head snapped back in his direction. "'Because I love you, Harry!'" she yelled and he exploded with laughter as she flung herself down on his chest, possessively clutching at his shirt just like Nancy Archer in the film.
Gilligan cupped his hands around his mouth and began calling, "'HAAAARRRRRYYYYY!'" like the monstrous fifty foot woman during her rampage through town. Mary Ann turned from where she was stifling her laughter in his shirt to call with him. "'HAAAARRRRRYYYYY!'"
"And then she stomps through town and rips the roof off the bar and hauls Harry out by his coat!"
"But not before she crushes that redheaded floozy with a table."
Gilligan grinned. "Yeah, she did."
Their laughter ebbed away and they were quiet for a moment. Gilligan sat in the corner of the front seat, one arm across the back of the seat and the other hanging out the window. He looked out over the water, moon glinting off the whitecaps in the distance. Mary Ann hadn't moved. Her cheek still rested on his chest and she studied the folds of his shirt just beyond her nose.
"At the end, though...," Mary Ann began quietly, running her finger over the red cotton waves. "She finally got Harry all to herself."
"Yeah," Gilligan clarified, "she got them both killed."
Mary Ann laid her hand on his chest to push herself up so she could look at him. "That's not what the movie's about."
"No, it's about an alien in a spaceship that zaps a lady and makes her grow."
Mary Ann shook her head. "No, that's what happens. What it's about is love so strong and desperate that she literally can't contain it in her body."
Gilligan stared at her in stunned silence and then groaned spectacularly. "Ugh, Mary Ann! Leave it to a girl to ruin a perfectly good movie with all that love stuff!"
"Well, it's true," she informed him bluntly, sitting up straight and pushing her hair back into place. Mary Ann slid over to her side of the car and looked out the window.
Gilligan sighed. He always managed to say the wrong thing. He watched her ignore him for a moment and then smirked. "I love the very end. With the German doctor." Gilligan watched her closely. Mary Ann was trying not to smile. "It's so funny."
Mary Ann finally turned to look at him. "When he's standing over the bodies." They both slid a little closer to the center of the car. "And he goes like this..." Gilligan and Mary Ann simultaneously shrugged, broadly, comically, dismissively.
"And then he just walks away!"
"And that's the end!"
"Hey, Mary Ann, did you notice yesterday how Ginger was trying to walk across camp through the sand in her really high heels?" Mary Ann nodded and bit her lip to keep a straight face. Gilligan was grinning like a maniac in the moonlight. "I thought she was gonna fall flat on her face," he admitted and Mary Ann started to laugh, but slapped a hand over her mouth. "She looked ten feet tall. And she kept calling, 'PROFEEEESOOOR!' on her way to his hut."
Gilligan and Mary Ann watched each other for a moment, struggling to holding in their laughter, eyes shining with merriment. Then, all of a sudden, they chorused, "'HAAAARRRRRYYYYY!'" and broke down into waves of hysterical laughter. They cackled uncontrollably, clutching each other.
"Gilligan, that's not nice," Mary Ann tried to reprimand, poking him in the chest, but she hardly looked remorseful.
"Mary Ann," he forced out between fits, "she's really tall."
"I know, but don't make fun of her. She can't help it. That'd be like making fun of me for being short."
"You're not short. I wouldn't like it if you were taller than me."
Mary Ann gave him a bemused smile. "Why?"
Gilligan shrugged. "I don't know. The guy should always be taller than the girl. So he doesn't feel helpless. Hey, maybe that was Harry's problem," he suggested. "He couldn't protect Nancy."
"He didn't want to protect her. He tried to have her locked up."
"Yeah. That's true." They sat side by side in the car listening to the quiet rush of the waves lapping at the rocks below. "Besides," Gilligan continued, "if you were taller than me, you'd have to fly by yourself."
Mary Ann frowned. As exhilarating at it was, she still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of weightlessness while soaring across the ravine on a vine. She didn't feel skilled or brave enough to handle it by herself. Every time they climbed up to the top of the beautiful canyon, she made Gilligan spend twenty minutes searching for a vine strong enough to hold them both. She felt protected with him there behind her. "I wouldn't like that."
"Yeah, so it's perfect. I couldn't take Ginger vine flying. She'd knock me off the vine." Gilligan raised his right arm and held it like he did when he had to reach around her to grab the vine. He motioned to the empty space between his arm and his body with his other hand. "You fit perfectly right here."
"I do?"
"Sure. That's how I haven't dropped you." Gilligan grinned at her and relaxed into the woven seat, stretching his arms out across the back of the front seat. He felt the breeze ruffle his hair and he closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed. "It's nice here, isn't it?"
Mary Ann leaned forward to look out the front of the car into the sky. "How do you keep finding new places on this island that I haven't seen?" Mary Ann sat back again, a little closer to him than before, so that his arm was across the seat behind her.
"I look for them, I guess."
Mary Ann slid down in her seat so she could see more of the sky through the window. "The stars are so bright here." She leaned back and rested her head on his arm.
"Yeah, there must be hundreds of 'em." Mary Ann could hear that he was grinning cheekily, so she laughed. "Mary Ann?" he asked seriously after a moment.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think there's spaceships out there? And aliens? Like in the movie?"
"I suppose there could be," she mused, watching the sky, certain stars glowing brighter than others. They almost looked like they could be manufactured lights and not natural celestial ones. "If we can exist, why can't there be other things living on other planets? To them, we're the aliens."
"Yeah, we are." Gilligan was grinning wider now, visions of little green men running away in fear from an alien in a red shirt and sailor's hat. "I like that."
"I thought you might." A cool breeze blew through the car and Mary Ann wrapped her arms around herself.
"Are you cold?"
"A little. It's fine."
"Wait a second." Gilligan turned around and leaned over into the back seat.
Mary Ann heard him rustling around, so she knelt on the seat to peek at what he was doing. "Gilligan, look at all that junk!"
Gilligan paused from digging through the items filling the back seat of the car to gape at her. "It's not junk, it's my stuff!" He turned around and began burrowing again. "I have to keep some of it in here because the Skipper won't let me have it in the hut." He tossed aside comic books, pushed some interesting rocks he'd found onto the floor, and moved his seashell collection. "He threw away my lucky coconut three times before I figured out not to keep bringing it back. That was the first coconut that ever fell out of a tree and hit me on the head, so I'm keeping it. Everything in here means something."
Mary Ann peered into the abyss of treasures. "Why do you have an empty pie plate in here?" she asked, pulling it from the pile. "I could use this."
"No, it's mine." Gilligan snatched it back and held it to his chest out of her reach. "That's from the first coconut crème pie you ever made just for me. You brought it to me after I got elected President and we had a picnic in the Oval Office. Nobody else got any. Remember?"
"I remember." Mary Ann smiled gently. "Keep it." She pulled an empty banana skin from the back seat and wrinkled her nose. "What does this symbolize?"
"Nothing. That's trash."
"Ugh, Gilligan, you're such a guy." Mary Ann tossed the banana peel out the window. "Horace Higgenbotham used to keep all his sneakers in his truck because they smelled so bad his mother wouldn't let them in the house. It was disgusting."
"A-ha!" Gilligan triumphantly pulled a blanket out of the depths of the back seat. He shook it out a little. "Here. It's not dirty, it's just some sand."
"Thanks." Mary Ann unfolded the blanket as Gilligan plopped down in his seat again. She sat down beside him, a little closer than before, and handed him one end of the blanket.
He eyed her warily. "It's for you."
"It's okay. It's big enough." Mary Ann shook the end of the blanket at him. "Take it."
Gilligan held onto the very edge of the blanket and watched as Mary Ann wrapped herself up in her end and snuggled down in the seat facing him. She was right, there was plenty of blanket left, so he pulled it over his lap. He folded his arm on the back of the seat and laid his head down on it. "I feel like I'm at a slumber party," he said and Mary Ann raised her eyebrows. "I mean – no, not, like, with a girl. It's just ... 'cause ... never mind."
"I know what you mean."
"It feels like we should be telling ghost stories or sharing secrets or playing Truth or Dare or something." He shifted awkwardly.
"You want to play Spin the Bottle? You've got one back there." She nodded toward the back seat and his jaw dropped.
"Mary Ann!"
She laughed delightedly at the scandalized look on his face. "I'm kidding! Relax! I guess I shouldn't suggest Seven Minutes in Heaven."
"What's that?"
"Never mind. Are you sure you don't want to go watch a movie?" she asked. "I think The Monster That Challenged the World was in the crate that washed ashore."
Gilligan's eyes lit up. "I love how the coroner in that movie keeps his sandwiches in the drawer in the morgue to keep them cold." He hesitated. "I don't know, though."
"I promise I won't try to have my way with you like that redheaded floozy Honey Parker."
Gilligan shook his head. "Harry just didn't know how to pick women."
"And you do?"
"Sure. You don't see me out with any redheaded floozy, do you?"
"No. Just me." Mary Ann smiled at him and he lowered his eyes. "Harry should've known she was trouble when he learned her name was 'Honey.' The minute he's at home trying to deal with his giant wife, Honey's out dancing with the deputy. Shame on her. He didn't even have a cute little starfish badge like you did."
Mary Ann reached out to tickle his chest where his badge had once so proudly hung and his mouth tipped into a lopsided grin. "Yeah, what kind of deputy is that?"
"I promise to behave myself. But ... if the movie's scary I might grab your hand."
"Oh." Gilligan thought about this seriously for a moment. "Well, that's okay. I wouldn't want you to be scared."
Mary Ann beamed. "My hero. Gilligan, I know the Skipper told you about the drive-in, but did he tell you what guys and girls do when they go for a drive and park at a beautiful spot like this?"
"Tell ghost stories?"
"No."
"Play whatever Seven Minutes in Heaven is?"
"Well..."
"Look for spaceships?"
Mary Ann giggled. "No, that's only us. They pretty much do the same thing they do at the drive-in."
Gilligan's eyes widened, but he didn't back away like she'd anticipated. He raised the blanket up over his nose, bright blue eyes peeking at her over the brown fabric. "They do?" he asked quietly and she nodded. "Have you ever gone for a drive with a guy?" he asked, hoping she'd say no.
"Twice."
He gasped. "Mary Ann!"
Gilligan stared at her, aghast, but Mary Ann was laughing. "No, not like that! The second time was much better than the first, but it's a funny story, Gilligan. Horace drove me home from a dance in high school once."
"In his truck that smelled like feet? Ew!"
"I didn't know it smelled until I got in it! Anyway, he stopped on the side of this lonely road in the middle of nowhere, miles between town and Aunt Martha's house. And he said –." She took on an exaggerated manly Kansan drawl, "'Uh oh, Mary Ann, looks like we ran out of gas. We could be stranded here for hours. We better huddle together for warmth.' But he was a big liar because my cousin Sam saw him at the gas station that afternoon."
Gilligan's eyes were nearly popping out of his head. "What a creep. Did you punch him in the nose?"
"No, but I should've. You wouldn't believe what he did next. Gilligan, pretend to be me."
"Okay." Gilligan sat up and planted his fists on his hips. "'Oh, Gilligan!'" he exclaimed, eyes wide, "'You ate my whole pie! How could you?'"
Mary Ann laughed and shook his arm. "Stop it, Gilligan. Pretend to be me in Horace's truck."
"Okay." Gilligan pinched his nose between two fingers, his voice rising two very nasal octaves. "'Horace Higgenbotham! This is the smelliest truck I've ever been in! What are you keeping in here? My friend Gilligan has a lot of stuff in his car and it doesn't smell like this!'"
"Gilligan!" she whined, laughing harder. "Stop! Pretend I just told you we've run out of gas."
"'Oh, no! Out of gas! Horace, you're gonna have to get out and walk to get help.'" Gilligan began playfully shoving Mary Ann toward the door and she tried to grab his hands, weak with the exertion of laughing so hard.
"Gilligan, just sit there!"
He grinned, but complied, sitting calmly in the middle of the front seat, hands folded neatly in his lap, looking like the most wide-eyed innocent creature in the entire world. "Anyway, Horace goes like this: 'Well, Mary Ann, we could be stuck out here for hours before someone comes along,'" she continued, forcing out the Kansan accent she'd lost over the years. "'It's gettin' late.'" Mary Ann yawned widely and stretched her arms high in the air.
In the next instant, Gilligan discovered her arm around his shoulders and her body pressed up against his on the seat, their legs touching. His jaw dropped and he turned to her, but couldn't help laughing at the proud look on her face. "That's when I really should've punched him in the nose," she said. "But I told him he was a big liar and if he didn't take me home right away I'd send Uncle George after him with his shotgun. That did it. The funny part was that Horace isn't much taller than me, so it went basically like this."
Gilligan looked down at her. She was stretched up at an odd and uncomfortable angle so she could get her arm around his shoulders. Gilligan shook his head. "You couldn't go vine flying with Horace. You don't fit."
Mary Ann retrieved her arm. "Good. I don't want to go flying with Horace, anyway. He's short and his truck smells like feet. And I don't fit perfectly with him like this." Mary Ann took Gilligan's arm and pulled it around her back, scooting closer still to him under the blanket. "Right?"
"Right," Gilligan agreed. He flinched then as he really noticed her beside him. His arm had somehow gotten around her back and his hand was on her arm. She curled in toward him, her head below his chin. "Yeah." He gulped. "Like this. Who was the second guy you went for a drive with?"
He felt her hand rest on his abdomen. "You."
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the waves hit the rocks below them and the breeze blow the leaves above them. Gilligan propped his feet up on the dashboard, staring out into the darkness to where he knew the sky met the sea. Mary Ann's breathing slowed and when he glanced down her eyes were closed. Gilligan leaned his head back and pushed his hat down over his closed eyes. He stretched his free arm out and settled into the seat.
"Uh oh," he whispered after a moment. "Nancy?"
"Yes, Harry?" she murmured.
"Looks like we ran out of gas. We could be stranded here for hours."
# # # #
The Skipper was pacing restlessly around the tiny hut. It was well past midnight and Gilligan still hadn't come back yet. He was about to go out looking for him when he saw the bamboo car roll into the clearing. He ducked back from the window, pressing his back up against the wall to listen.
The car stopped at the girls' hut and the Skipper strained his ears toward the commotion that ensued. It sounded like Gilligan had gotten out, hurried around the car, and tripped over nothing – there was an "oof!" and Mary Ann gasped and asked if he was okay.
"Thanks, Gilligan."
It sounded like he actually remembered to open Mary Ann's door for her.
"You're welcome."
"I had a nice time tonight."
"Me, too."
"Goodnight, Gilligan."
There was a long stretch of silence and the Skipper inched toward the window. He knew Ginger was doing the same thing across the clearing in her hut and she had a much better vantage point. He'd have to ask her about it tomorrow.
Finally, he heard Gilligan's uncontrollable nervous laughter pierce the silence. "Goodnight," he squeaked and then cleared his throat to try again. "Goodnight, Mary Ann."
After a moment the Skipper heard the squeaky pedal of the bamboo car again and threw himself back into his chair, hastily gathering up his fishing net and bone needle. He fumbled to find the place he left off before giving up and shoving the needle anywhere into the net just to look busy. He jabbed himself in the finger again instead and let out a strangled cry just as Gilligan entered the hut.
"Oh, hi, Skipper. You didn't have to wait up."
"I wasn't waiting up. I just wanted to finish this net." The Skipper shook his injured finger.
"I don't know about the net, but your hand's almost finished."
"Oh, enough about the net, Gilligan." The captain jumped to his feet and threw the net down on the table. He sidled up to the first mate and nudged him in the ribs. "How was your date?"
"It wasn't a date, Skipper!"
"Gilligan, you picked her up, went out, and brought her home well past curfew. You were gone for hours and there was a suspicious pause during the goodnights ... which I ... wasn't eavesdropping on at all." The Skipper shook his head as Gilligan studied him. "Ep ... I mean, it ... it wasn't a date if you say it wasn't."
"I'm tired, Skipper. We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Gilligan tried to climb into his hammock, but the Skipper held onto his arm.
"Oh, come on, Gilligan. Just tell me how –." The captain suddenly narrowed his eyes. "What are you tired for?"
"Skipper!" he whined. "It's tomorrow! I just want to go to sleep!" He lifted his foot toward his hammock again, but the Skipper grabbed his ankle and Gilligan almost toppled over.
"Why?"
"'Cause it's late!" Gilligan tried to crawl into his hammock head first, but the sack moved with him and he ended up walking completely underneath it and tripping over the lower bunk.
"It's not that late. Talk to me, little buddy."
"Skipper!" he whined, more piercing than before and the captain winced. "I'm tired!"
The Skipper picked him up off the floor and held him upright. "From what?"
Gilligan finally turned to look the captain directly in his eye. "We played Seven Minutes in Heaven twelve times." The Skipper froze, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and Gilligan used the opportunity to finally climb into his hammock. He plopped face-down in the sack, arms and legs hanging over the sides.
The Skipper stammered incoherently, doing the math and counting on his fingers, before finally pushing out: "Really?"
"No!" Gilligan shouted, voice muffled in the hammock. "Now go to sleep!"
"I can't now!"
# # # #
The next morning, Gilligan woke slowly, lying still for a moment. When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the Skipper's face looming over him. He yelped and jumped, clutching the edge of the hammock.
"Oh, good, you're up!"
"Skipper! You scared me!"
"I'm sorry, little buddy. I just want to know how your non-date went. I can't take it anymore!" Gilligan climbed out of his hammock and the Skipper held him upright as he got his feet tangled in his blanket. "Ginger's been following Mary Ann around all morning and she won't tell her anything either."
"Skipper, it was fine."
"Fine? That's it?" The Skipper followed him across the hut to the bowl of water on the table under the mirror. The captain frowned and crossed his arms. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Gilligan took his hat off and began washing his face.
"Oh, come on, Gilligan. What happened? Did you crash the car? Did you tell her that story about Skinny Mulligan's stomach virus? Did you let her see all that junk you keep in the back seat?"
Gilligan raised his head to glare at the Skipper's reflection in the mirror. "No," he insisted, water dripping from his chin. "Well, yes to the last one, but she understands why I keep things." Gilligan grabbed a towel to dry his face. "She likes my car. She said only the coolest guys – and Horace Higgenbotham – had their own car in high school." Gilligan grinned and plucked his hat off the peg on the wall and pulled it back onto his head. "She even said she'd make me a pair of fuzzy dice to hang from the rearview mirror."
The Skipper's look of disbelief slowly melted away and he uncrossed his arms. In another second he was grinning mischievously. "So what happened? Tell me!" He ushered Gilligan to the table so they could both sit. "Did you go to the movies? How come you didn't call me to pedal the projector?"
"Because you're nosey," Gilligan informed him with a grin. "We didn't want you to impose."
The captain glowered at him from under his cap. "Now, see here, Gilligan –."
"No, really, Skipper! The Professor invented these other pedals to run the projector. They sit on the ground so you can sit on the bench with everybody else and not have to sit on the bicycle all by yourself. He said he can attach the projector to the car, too, so you can use those pedals just in case you want to go to the drive-in, but I told him no thanks, the ground pedals were good enough. Besides, it was pretty late by the time we decided to go to the movies."
The Skipper's eyes narrowed warily. "Late? Where were you before that?"
"I drove up to that grassy cliff on the east side of the island and parked."
"You parked?" the captain yelled in surprise before clutching his cap to his head and controlling himself. "You parked?" he whispered.
"What's the matter, Skipper?"
"I didn't tell you what guys and girls do when they go for a drive and park at a beautiful spot."
"I know. Mary Ann had to tell me. Boy, Skipper, thanks for making a guy feel like a real idiot."
"Well, I'm sorry, Gilligan, but I didn't think it would come up."
"It's okay. We just talked about a bunch of stuff." Gilligan shook his head contemplatively. "I don't know about girls, Skipper. First she told me that Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is a love story!"
The Skipper slapped a hand down on the table. "Absurd!"
"I know! And then, Skipper ... then she told me that she doesn't always watch the movie at the drive-in. Do you believe that? Our sweet innocent Mary Ann said she doesn't always watch the movie! She had to have been teasing me."
The Skipper fidgeted nervously, trying to decide how to phrase his next question. He leaned in conspiratorially. "Did ... did you watch the movie?"
Gilligan flew back in his chair, shocked. "Of course, Skipper! Well, most of it." The Skipper watched as Gilligan stood and moved to the closet. "She ate half my popcorn and kept grabbing my hand." His head disappeared behind the curtain on the wardrobe and he reappeared a moment later with his swim trunks in one hand and a towel in the other. "The movie wasn't that scary!" Gilligan shook his head again and draped the towel around his neck. "I don't know, Skipper. Women are strange, whether they're fifty feet tall or five feet tall. I'm done going on non-dates for a while."
"Then where are you going?"
Gilligan paused halfway out the door. "Oh. Mary Ann and I are going swimming and then on a picnic. Bye, Skipper!"