This is just a wee story about Gilligan's insecurities leading him up the garden path as usual. One-shot, stand alone type thing, which I hope everyone enjoys! Reviews of course, would be lovely, and I have cyber cookies to give out as a bribe, and they're only just a little bit burnt around the edges. So anyway, I'll shut up now.
Gilligan's Island characters are ALL property of the lovely and amazing Mr. Sherwood Schwartz.
"So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I can safely say that most fairy tales are just stories passed down through the ages with events that can easily be logically explained." The Professor stepped away from his chalkboard full of scientific calculations and diagrams of evil looking witches on broomsticks and small hunched goblins in pointed hats and took a small bow in front of his audience of six. "Class is over for today," he announced, with a theatrically arched eyebrow and a bright, crowd-pleasing grin.
His audience of six responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Ginger and Mary Ann clapped loudly and encouragingly, looking at the Professor with wide eyed smiles as though he were their favourite college lecturer and they were his two biggest fans. The Howells applauded politely, nodding and making small, demure murmurs of approval. The Skipper looked sceptical, as he often did when the Professor was in full flow, and Gilligan had grown bored and drifted off long ago, as he often did when the Professor was in full flow.
"All societies have their fairy stories," the Professor said later, while the castaways ate lunch. "A lot of these stories commented on actual events that were happening at the time, and a lot of them were surprisingly grim and morbid. They weren't the children's tales they've become today. Castles and dragons and things like that."
"Grim and morbid? Ooh, I don't know if I like the sound of that," said Mary Ann, holding her shoulders and shivering.
"Yes, Mary Ann, it's true. There were lots of deadly epidemics in those days, and nursery rhymes such as Ring O' Roses weren't actually about roses at all. They were about the rash you get from smallpox. The line 'atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down' refers to the terrible fit of consumption that invariably ended in death."
Ginger was horrified. "Imagine what that must have done to a girl's looks!" she said to Mary Ann.
"Professor! Please," cried Mrs. Howell, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Not while we're eating!"
"I apologise, Mrs. Howell," the Professor said, although he lowered his head and smiled to himself when neither of the Howells were looking.
"What about Goldilocks?" said Gilligan, taking a break from stuffing his mouth full of grapes. "That's just about a girl who goes to play with some bears, right?"
"Be quiet, Gilligan!" said the Skipper, more from habit than anything else, causing Gilligan to stare at him mid-chew while grape juice trickled down his chin.
"Goldilocks and Red Riding Hood and other similar fairy tales were no doubt written to scare young children into not wandering off too far on their own," said the Professor. "Would you go into the woods if you thought a snarling bear or a big bad wolf was lying in wait for you?"
"But I like Goldilocks," said Gilligan. "She gets to hang out at Baby Bear's and eat all their porridge and sit in their chairs and sleep on their beds. That's not scary. I'd sure like to do that."
The Professor shook his head in mild exasperation. "Gilligan, real bears in real woods don't live in houses and eat porridge. They're vicious wild animals that can tear you apart with a single blow."
Mary Ann smiled reassuringly at Gilligan. "Besides, Gilligan, here you get to hang out with gorillas and eat coconut crème pie. Isn't that almost the same?"
"Yeah, you're right, Mary Ann." Gilligan grinned. "That's pretty neat, too."
The Professor sighed pointedly. "I give up," he muttered.
"Oh, we were listening, Professor," smiled Mary Ann. "But I'm afraid it doesn't change my mind about fairy tales. I love them." She rested her chin in her hands and gazed dreamily at the man of science. "They're so romantic."
"Mary Ann," the Professor said smoothly, raising his cup of pineapple juice, "A sweet, innocent young girl like you is destined to spend her whole life in an enchanted bubble of goodness."
"Professor!" Mary Ann giggled, blushing.
Gilligan said nothing, just pulled a face and carried on eating grapes.
"Why do you always listen to the Professor?" said Gilligan, as he and Mary Ann cleared the lunch table and got ready to wash the dishes.
"Because he knows what he's talking about," Mary Ann replied, sweeping a damp cloth over the crumbs and debris littered table.
"But you don't believe him about the fairy tales. You still think they're..." Gilligan paused, wrinkled his nose much like Mrs. Howell had done, "...romantic."
"Well, yes, I do," said Mary Ann, folding the cloth and turning to look at her friend. "I was raised on fairy stories, Gilligan. Princesses in towers, and princes who came to rescue them." She sighed. "I still wish a handsome prince would come to rescue me one day. But I guess it'll never happen now."
"How's a handsome prince gonna get here, anyway?" Gilligan said. "I can't see him washing up in the lagoon on a horse, saying 'Mary Ann, here I am, I've come to rescue you!'" He said the last part in a deep voice with a stern face and his skinny chest all puffed out as far as he could puff it.
Mary Ann looked disappointed. "Oh, Gilligan! Trust you to be so...so...Gilliganish."
"What?" Gilligan pouted. "You didn't tell the Professor he was being Professorish when he tried to tell you everyone who sang Ring O' Roses died from a horrible contraption!"
"That's because the Professor wasn't trying to make me feel bad!"
"I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, Mary Ann! I was just saying, how's a handsome prince gonna get here? On a surfboard, like Duke?"
"Gilligan! Now you're just being unfair."
"How am I being unfair?" Gilligan didn't like the way this was going at all.
"You're trying to say you don't think a handsome prince would ever want to rescue me!" she wailed, thrusting a pile of dirty, fruit smeared plates into Gilligan's arms and stomping off in the direction of the girls' hut.
"Mary Ann!" Gilligan called after her, fumbling half of the plates out of his arms and onto the sand. "I didn't mean it like that! I'm sure if a handsome prince came here, he'd love to rescue you! Really! He would!"
But Mary Ann was already gone.
The next day the Professor was out in the clearing, working hard as usual. He was re-charging the radio batteries and building a small anemometer for checking wind speed which he intended to set up on the beach. While he worked on his experiment at one end of the table, Mary Ann was helping him by recharging the radio batteries at the other, stirring the coconut cups full of seawater to conduct the electricity through the copper wires.
"It was very kind of you to offer to help me out, Mary Ann," the Professor said. "I hope I'm not keeping you from any other work you'd rather be doing."
"No, Professor," Mary Ann smiled. "I enjoy seeing how your experiments work. I think it's fascinating how you can charge a battery just by using seawater, or build something that can tell how fast the wind is going. And I also like the way you can explain everything so that it seems less mysterious and scary. Like dragons and fairy tales."
The Professor looked up from his tinkering. "Well, you know it's not my intention to completely remove the magic from dragons and fairy tales, but modern science does tend to have answers for most things these days. For instance, Rapunzel let down her hair for the handsome prince to climb up, but such a weight pulling on her head would literally have broken her neck or at the very least, scalped her. However, if she'd tied her hair around, say, the bedpost first, then the prince would technically be holding onto the bedpost rather than Rapunzel's scalp, meaning he could climb to his heart's content without causing Rapunzel any injury. Which does actually make the events of the story slightly more believable. If, that is, you still want to believe in them."
"Oh, I do, Professor. I do still want to believe in them! Every girl dreams of one day being rescued by a handsome prince."
The Professor smiled warmly. "It's a lovely notion, I'll admit. But there comes a stage in everyone's life, not just a girl's, when we need to start taking responsibility for ourselves and dealing with the consequences of our actions in a mature and grown up fashion. We can't sit around forever, waiting for someone to come in and sweep us off our feet."
Mary Ann sighed and stirred the cups of seawater a little too forcefully. "That's just what Gilligan said."
The Professor's eyebrows hit the roof. "Gilligan said that?"
"Well, no...not in so many words. He said 'how's a handsome prince gonna get here? On a surfboard?'"
The Professor looked at Mary Ann sympathetically. "He certainly has a way with words, but essentially he's right. He's only being realistic. Just as I am."
"I know," Mary Ann sighed. "But sometimes the last thing a girl wants is realistic."
Mary Ann and Gilligan were down at the lagoon, where they were sunning themselves and listening to the radio, now loaded with fully charged batteries. Gilligan had seen her helping the Professor all morning as he'd gone about his own chores, largely unnoticed by anyone, as usual. He'd been sweeping out the hut and collecting firewood, and he hadn't liked some of the things he'd overheard as he went to and fro across the clearing. Like Mary Ann saying Professor, you're so clever, you know just about everything, and the Professor pretending to be all embarrassed, and protesting just to be polite.
He loves it, Gilligan thought. Mary Ann believing every word he says. I'm not that stupid. I can tell.
The radio brought him out of his reverie as the music ended and Friendly Henry launched into a news item.
"And now the news you've all been waiting for," the announcer said, cheerfully. "The winner of 'The Reader's Digress' Short Story Competition is...Miss Floradene Bell of Schenectady, NY."
"I wasn't waiting for that," Gilligan muttered.
"Oh! How wonderful! I wonder what her story was called?" said Mary Ann, sitting up straighter on the sand as the radio played some jaunty winner's music and a small studio audience of about three people gave a small round of sporadic applause.
"Miss Bell's story was called 'How Lucky Am I?'" said Friendly Henry, sounding just as enthusiastic as if he'd been announcing peace on earth forever.
"I wonder what it was about?" said Gilligan.
"It was about a young blind girl who miraculously regains her sight after being struck by an immense bolt of lightning that destroys her home and razes half her neighbourhood to the ground," said Friendly Henry.
"That's lucky?" said Gilligan, his eyebrows darting upwards.
"And then falls in love with the boy next door who she always thought would be homely but turned out to be the most handsome man she ever saw."
"That's lucky," said Gilligan, looking impressed at last.
"Oh, Gilligan, she gets her sight back and she falls in love! Isn't that beautiful?" Mary Ann sighed. "A happy ending!"
"Gee. All that happened to me when I got struck by lightning was I got a big rock stuck to my hand," said Gilligan. "And then I became invisible."
"Shh," said Mary Ann, leaning closer to the radio. Gilligan looked a little taken aback, but he kept quiet and let Mary Ann listen. "I wonder what she won?" the farm girl mused aloud.
"Miss Bell won $25," Friendly Henry said in his friendly way.
"$25?" Gilligan yelled, forgetting he was meant to be keeping quiet. "I wonder what the winner of the Long Story Competition won!"
"Gilligan!" said Mary Ann.
Gilligan pulled his taken aback face again, and looked off towards the lagoon. "I'm not interested anyway," he muttered. I'll bet she'd listen if the Professor was here, he thought, feeling a full blown sulk coming on.
There was no more news on Miss Floradene Bell, however, and Mary Ann turned back towards Gilligan as the radio returned to its mid morning program of easy listening music. "I'm sorry, Gilligan, but you know how I like stories with happy endings," she said, laying her hand on his arm. "I think it's so sweet that someone could actually win money for writing such a beautiful tale. Don't you?"
"I guess," said Gilligan, thinking that if he'd written a story about having a rock stuck to his hand and then becoming invisible after being struck by lightning, no-one would have believed it and he wouldn't have won anything except more disapproval.
"I wish I could write," Mary Ann said. She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned her chin on her forearms, gazing out over the water. "But I don't think I have the imagination for it." She sighed and grew wistful. "Whatever the Professor says, I love stories about castles and dragons and handsome princes coming to the rescue. Even if he can explain them all away with his fascinating, realistic and scientific theories, I still think they're beautiful."
Gilligan watched Mary Ann's expression carefully from the corner of his eye. He didn't like it when she looked like she was retreating into some place he couldn't follow. She had done it yesterday, after the Professor's lecture, gone all dreamy and looked like she wished she was some place else, and then hanging on the Professor's every word like that, like he was the best story teller ever in the whole wide world, helping him with his experiments and letting him debunk all her favourite myths and telling her that all fairy tales were based on things like smallpox and executions and wild animals that tore you apart, while she smiled at him and kept telling him how clever he was.
Gilligan decided right then and there that he would write a story for Mary Ann, seeing as how she loved them so much. If she wanted a handsome prince, then he'd give her a handsome prince. Because after all, if there was one thing he did have, it was an imagination. So how hard could it be?
Once up on a time.
Gilligan gnawed on his pencil. That didn't look right.
Once uppon a time.
No, that didn't look right either.
Once upon a time.
That was it. Once upon a time.
How easy was that? he thought, smiling. Besides, that's how all the best stories start.
Gilligan sat with his back braced against a large boulder in a shady spot under a huddle of banana trees. At his feet lay a pile of discarded banana skins and a large number of screwed up balls of paper. With his tongue poking out between his lips, the first mate concentrated hard on his writing. He knew he wasn't the world's greatest speller, but for now he decided that it would be better just to get his ideas down on paper before he forgot what they were. So with his notebook balanced on his knees and his shoulders hunched over his task, he began to write.
Once upon a time there was a beutiful princess called Mary Ann. She lived in a room rite at the top of a big big big castle. And evry day a handsome prince woud come to visit her. And he was a very clever handsome prince too, and he knew a lot of stuff that nobody else did. And she was happy that he knew stuff and coud teech her. She thout he was the best handsome prince in the hole world. And evry day he woud knock on the castle door and teech her loads more stuff that she dident know before, and she woud tell him how clever and handsome he was.
But ther was just one thing she dident know. The handsome prince wasent just a handsome prince, he was also an evil inventor who got a witch to cast a spell on her to keep her in the castle. And so she had to beleive evry thing he said because there wasent any one else to say if it was true or false.
Except for one persun. Her loyell manservent, the faithfull Gilligan, who was no oil painting but who liked her very much and had a big heart or so he was told. He knew that the handsome prince or rather the evil sientist was only intrested in one thing. The beutifull princess Mary Ann's brain, which he needed for his giant Robot Girl who was going to help him take over the world. He woud teech her more and more stuff so that her brain woud grow real big, and then he woud take it out and put it in the giant Robot Girls head.
Pleased with his efforts so far, Gilligan reached up overhead and plucked another banana from the tree. He peeled and ate it, throwing the skin onto the slowly blackening pile of other skins by his feet. Being a writer's pretty neat, he thought. Any other time when I sit in the sun eating bananas it looks like I'm being lazy, but now I look busy. Just like The Professor.
One day the handsome prince arived to teech his daily lesson in fisics and stuff. But this was a speshal day. This was the day wen Mary Ann's brain woud get big enough to take out and put in the Robot Girls head. And he was all escited about this and getting impatent. He rang the doorbell and banged on the door with his royal fist. Mary Ann its time for our lesson in fisics and stuff he said.
Mary Ann was in her room playen checkers with her faithfull manservent, who was winning by the way.
Do not let him in this time sed Gilligan. He is up to no good mark my words.
Oh, dont be so silly Gilligan Mary Ann lafed. You are always tryen to make me feel bad. The handsome prince only wants to ejucate me.
No sed Gilligan I beleeve he has other plans for you. Or rather for one piece of you. And beleeve me you will miss it when its gone.
Your so silly Gilligan sed Mary Ann. You dont know anything and the handsome prince knows evrything. Who do you really think Im going to beleeve?
Dont let him in Mary Ann, dont let him in. I mene it. Hes not what you think.
But the beutifull princess was already on her way down the stares.
Gilligan chewed the pencil hard. He ground it between his back teeth until his mouth was filled with the taste of wood splinters and graphite. He frowned and stared at the page, willing more words to appear.
After a while the sun found a crack in the brilliant green canopy of leaves and sent a warming ray down onto his face. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, feeling heat radiate throughout his body. Maybe if I relax, the ideas will come, he thought. Maybe if I relax...
Within minutes the warm rays of the sun began sending Gilligan to sleep. His eyes became unfocused, his eyelids fluttered and closed and finally his shoulders slumped and his chin fell onto his chest. His notebook slid off his knees and landed on the ground, closing itself. The chewed stub that was left of his pencil dropped from his fingers and slipped between blades of grass. A little white butterfly landed on his hat and briefly fluttered its wings as the young man began to lightly snore, the beginnings of a dream already forming, like wispy trails of mist in the distance.
He was in the room at the top of the castle, and there she was, standing right in front of him. The beautiful Princess Mary Ann. She looked stunning and radiant in a shimmering satin gown of soft purples, pinks and blues that left her beautiful shoulders exposed, hugged her tiny waist and swished around her dainty ankles as she moved like the delicate little ballerina in her favourite music box. On her head was a diamond encrusted tiara, nestled in the luxuriant waves of thick, dark hair which smelled like a tropical rainforest when the sun comes out after a mid morning shower. Her huge brown eyes fixed on him like the eyes of a baby deer as he pleaded with her not to let the prince into the castle.
But alas for him, she didn't want to hear what he had to say. "You don't know anything, and the Prince knows everything," she told him with a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, Gilligan, if you won't go and open the door, I shall do it myself. I'm going to have my daily lesson in physics and stuff if it's the last thing I do!"
"It may well be the last thing you do," Gilligan said under his breath as she left the room in a swish of satin.
Turning away dejectedly, Gilligan caught sight of himself in the gilded mirror that hung on the back of the door. He was dressed in a dull and drab beige tunic with a dull and drab brown jerkin over the top. He wore dull and drab beige britches and worn out brown leather boots that had seen much better days. To top it all off there was a dull and drab brown piece of material on his head that might once have been described as a hat, but now looked more like a flattened bread roll, and the hair trapped beneath it was untidy and otherwise entirely lacklustre.
He sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. He was a peasant, and he looked like a peasant, and he sure wasn't going to win any beauty contests. Could anyone blame the Princess for not wanting to listen to a single word he said?
He went over to the window and leaned out, peering down at the man who stood on the castle door step hundreds of feet below. Phooey on you, so-called Handsome Prince, he thought. I'm on to you and your evil ways, even if no-one else is.
The Handsome Prince stood in front of the huge oak panelled front door, pounding on it with his royal fist and alternating it with prolonged rings of the doorbell. "Mary Ann, Mary Ann, Mary Ann!" he called, sounding for all the world like Cary Grant. His frustration was growing, and the tall yellow feather in his cap trembled as he craned his royal neck to see up to her window. "Please hurry and open the door. It's time for our lessons in physics and stuff. The heat of the sun as it crawls towards its zenith is making me feel quite fractious today! Although technically speaking, the sun itself doesn't move, rather the illusion is created by the fact that the earth revolves around it." He smiled to himself. I'm so clever, he thought, smugly.
The door opened at last, creaking slowly on its huge iron hinges. "Your Highness, forgive me," said Princess Mary Ann, puffing and gasping as she pulled and then pushed the monstrous door all the way open. "My manservant has been giving me all kinds of trouble today. He really is the living end. He refused to come and open the door, so I had to come all the way downstairs and do it myself."
Gilligan was halfway down the vast staircase when the Handsome Prince came through the door, swirling his blue velvet cloak as he strode arrogantly into the entrance hall.
"There you are, boy!" the Prince sneered. "How dare you leave the poor Princess Mary Ann to open the door all by herself! Why, I've a good mind to give you a sound lecturing, although it would be a waste of my valuable time trying to educated your non-existent serf's brain. Now bring me some refreshments at once! My royal throat is parched, and it's time for the Princess's final lesson in physics and stuff, before we move on to...other things." At that, the Prince smiled crookedly, his Evil Inventor's eyes glinting in a shaft of dusty sunlight.
You're nothing but a mad scientist, thought Gilligan, pursing his lips and frowning at the Prince. And I'm gonna show you that there's only one place Mary Ann's brain belongs. And that's in Mary Ann's own head!
"Well, don't just stand there, Gilligan," said Mary Ann. "Bring the Prince some refreshments! We'll be in the royal Lecture Room, as usual."
"Yes," the Prince said, with a cold and mocking laugh. "Doing our physics, and stuff."
Today's the day he's going to cut out her brain for his giant Robot Girl, thought Gilligan, watching the two of them disappear down the hall in a flurry of velvet and satin, their laughter echoing back along the cavernous hallway. I have to stop him. But how?
The Handsome Prince paced around the stuffy, oak-panelled Lecture Room. He swished his velvet cape as Princess Mary Ann sat reading her books, moving her lips as she went over each line, trying to retain all the detailed information that threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to learn. She wanted to be educated. She didn't want to be one of those beautiful princesses who relied on their looks only, like the glamorous Princess Ginger who ruled over the neighbouring kingdom. Princess Ginger sat brushing her hair all day and sometimes filing her nails while she complained that there weren't enough hours in the day to attend to all of her suitors. Princess Mary Ann didn't want to be like that. Although it would be nice just to have a couple more suitors besides the Handsome Prince.
Luckily the Handsome Prince was a faithful suitor, and more than willing to give up his time to educate her mind. It really was good of him to turn up every day without fail and make sure she learned her lessons and understood everything he told her.
Your brain will soon be overflowing with knowledge, he'd told her on his previous visit just the day before. And then...there will be no stopping me. I mean, you. He'd added, hastily.
"It's growing warm," the Prince observed, looking out of the lower half of the Lecture Room's tall stained glass window. "The barometric pressure is dropping. This can mean only one thing. A summer storm is on its way."
"You're so clever," Mary Ann sighed.
"I know," the Prince replied, preening a lock of his hair.
"I love storms," said Mary Ann.
"So do I," the Prince smiled. "Especially ones with plenty of lightning." Lightning that I will need to activate my precious Robot Girl, he thought, with an inner smirk of evil.
As Mary Ann returned to her book, the Prince paced around until he was behind her, looking down on the back of her beautiful, slender neck. It will be a pity to destroy such beauty, but her noble sacrifice is necessary for the greater good. With the Princess Mary Ann's delightful brain inside my wondrous Robot Girl, the world will soon be mine, all mine, and mine will be the only knowledge in it! The entire population of the world will be under my command!
Meanwhile, in the royal kitchens, Gilligan had finally finished loading a large silver tray with food and drink. As he walked slowly and carefully down the long carpeted hallway, trying hard not to wobble the tray and tip the silver wine goblets over, he heard a low, distant rumble of thunder. Moments later, the bright sunlight streaming through the windows became muted, and he realised that the storm clouds had already started gathering.
"The storm's getting nearer," said Mary Ann, unaware that behind her, the Handsome Prince was smiling coldly and removing an object from within the soft, velvet folds of his cloak.
Gilligan arrived at the Lecture Room door, which had been left slightly ajar. Good, I won't need to knock and disturb them, he thought. Carefully, he eased the door open with his foot, clutching the silver tray and watching the goblets to make sure they didn't spill. As he entered the room fully, he looked up just in time to see the Handsome Prince bending over the back of the Princess's chair.
The Princess was reading her books, oblivious to the man standing right behind her. He was holding something in his hand. His hand moved towards the back of the Princess's exposed neck.
It was a huge syringe, with a long and very sharp needle on the end.
"Noooo!" cried Gilligan. He threw his arms up, sending the silver wine goblets tumbling end over end and launching the platters of sandwiches and pastries and other dainty delicacies into the air. He ran forward with the empty silver tray held high and smacked the Prince soundly across the back of the head with it before either the Prince or the Princess had time to react. The loud, resonating clang of the tray as it struck the Prince's skull was still reverberating around the room as the Prince sank slowly to the floor with a dazed look of surprise on his face. His fingers let go of the syringe, which rolled across the floor. Gilligan darted over and immediately stamped on it with the heel of his boot, breaking it into pieces and letting the contents seep harmlessly into the carpet.
"Mary Ann! We have to get out of here!" Gilligan cried, pulling at her elbow. "He's gonna kill you and take out your brain!"
"What?" Mary Ann struggled against him, shocked and bewildered. "Gilligan, are you out of your mind?"
"No, but you will be if we don't hurry!"
"You're mad, Gilligan!" Mary Ann shouted, still reluctant to follow him. "What's gotten into you? Why on earth did you knock out the Prince?"
"Because he's not just a Prince, he's an Evil Inventor and he's gonna kill you and take your brain for his giant Robot Girl so he can use it to take over the world!" Gilligan cried, still pulling fiercely at her arm. "Come on, Mary Ann! Move your caboose!"
"I will not!" Mary Ann said, indignantly, holding onto the arm of the chair with her other hand. "How dare you burst in here like that! How dare you knock out the Handsome Prince and then give me a ridiculous story about a Robot Girl, when there are no such things as Robots! It's jealousy, that's all it is! You're jealous of him, and you've always been jealous of him! You're just a peasant, Gilligan! A peasant! That's all you are. A peasant!"
"I may be just a peasant, but I'm not out to kill you, like he is!" Gilligan pointed in desperation at the Prince, who had regained consciousness and was now struggling to his feet.
"You interfering little wretch!" the Prince snarled. "There'll be no glorious future for your tiny undeveloped brain!"
"What?" said Mary Ann, staring at the Prince, who now had a very malevolent look on his once handsome features. "What are you talking about? Now I really am confused!" She turned to Gilligan again, who was still hanging desperately onto her arm. "Gilligan, is this really true?"
"It's what I've been trying to tell you all along, Mary Ann! He's an Evil Inventor who cast a spell on you, and he wants your brain so that he can rule the world with his giant Robot Girl!" He sighed. Was he really that hard to understand?
"And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for you meddling kids!" the Prince snarled. He picked up the silver tray and held it aloft. "First I'll do away with you, Peasant Boy, and then the beautiful Princess's brain will be mine, all mine!" With that, he let out a truly evil cackle of laughter, but it proved to be short-lived as suddenly a huge and intense bolt of lightning smashed through the tall stained glass window and struck the silver tray with an almighty electric blow.
The Prince screamed and shuddered as his entire body flashed and went transparent, showing the skeleton underneath (which also wore a cloak and a tall feather), glowing neon and then white and then showing the skeleton again, flashing and crackling, buzzing and blinking rapidly like a store front display from Hell. At the same time, a reflected bolt of lightning shot out of the tray and struck the Princess Mary Ann, rooting her to the spot like a shuddering, shaking rag doll, and a third bolt hit Gilligan squarely in the chest, sending him catapulting backwards across the room and straight into a floor to ceiling bookcase, which began raining its tomes of knowledge down on him like musty, leather-bound hailstones falling one after the other from the sky.
Having wreaked its destruction, the lightning bolt vanished as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind an overpowering stench of scorched air and burnt clothes, not to mention singed flesh and hair.
As the dust settled, Gilligan, who was buried under a mountain of books, groaned softly and stirred his limbs, checking his fingers and toes for movement. Everything seems to be working okay, he thought. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time this has happened to me...
He scrambled a little unsteadily to his feet, throwing off the piles of heavy books that had threatened to engulf him. He blinked and shook his head, readjusting his eyes to the bright glare of the sun which now streamed in, unfiltered, through the broken stained glass window. Millions upon millions of sparkling dust motes swirled around the room, winking and blinking as they danced in slow motion to some otherworldly tune that only they could hear.
"Mary Ann," he whispered, as he saw his beloved Princess standing motionless across the room. He kicked away the last of the books and stumbled over to her, stepping gingerly over the molten, lumpy and still smoking mess that used to be the Handsome Prince.
Her beautiful gown was scorched and ruined, her tiara a molten mass on top of her crispy, frazzled hair. But she was staring up at him with her eyes wide open, and she looked happier and more beautiful than he'd ever seen her since the moment they had met.
"Gilligan," she whispered. "You saved me."
"I had to," he replied. "You may be a Princess while I'm but a peasant, but you're my friend and I don't want to lose you."
Mary Ann fell into his arms. An acrid waft of singed hair went up his nose and he blinked away the tears that sprang into his eyes. "I'm so sorry I called you a peasant," she said, her face muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I should have listened to you from the beginning. You've never lied to me before, about anything."
"All I know is, he wanted your brain," said Gilligan. "And I've only ever wanted your heart."
Mary Ann pulled away slightly, gazing up at him through her huge brown baby deer eyes. "Oh, Gilligan, and you shall have it! My heart is yours, forever and always, and no-one shall ever come between us again. You're not a peasant, Gilligan. You're not even a Prince. You're a King, and I shall forever be your Queen!"
With that, the new Queen leaned up to kiss him, and he screwed his face up in anticipation, thinking that a kiss was a small price to pay for everlasting love.
Especially a kiss from a Queen.
When Gilligan woke up, the sun had all but disappeared behind the mountain on its journey West. He felt happy as his eyes opened and took in the familiar surroundings of his island home. He took a moment or two to reorientate himself, and then he picked up his notebook and scrabbled in the grass for the chewed stub of his pencil. There was no need to wait for the words to come now. In fact, he couldn't stop them coming. He wrote at lightning speed as he tried to capture all the details of the dream he'd just had, and wondered just what Mary Ann would make of it when he finally gave it to her to read.
It took him the best part of an hour to get everything down the way he wanted it. His spelling was awful, but he knew that. He could always polish it up later. He didn't have to let Mary Ann read it right away.
In fact, he might have reached the conclusion that he didn't have to let Mary Ann see it at all, had Mary Ann herself not suddenly appeared through the trees, startling him before he had a chance to slam the notebook shut and hide it away in his back pocket.
"Gilligan! There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you! You just upped and disappeared right after lunch and no-one's seen you since!"
"Aw, I was just..." Gilligan felt embarrassed. He knew she'd seen his open notebook full of childish scrawl. Suddenly he wondered what on earth he'd been doing, trying to write a story that would entertain her. What a stupid idea that was!
"Writing in your diary?" Mary Ann asked, coming over to sit beside him on the grass.
"Not really my diary," he confessed.
"Oh?" Mary Ann smiled at him curiously.
Gilligan couldn't ignore the plea in those big, brown eyes. "I was trying to write a story," he sighed. "A fairy tale. Like the ones you grew up with." He opened the notebook, wincing at the untidy writing and untold number of spelling mistakes. "But it's not very good."
"Well, what's it about?" said Mary Ann, already sounding a little breathless. "Oh go on, Gilligan, let me read it, please?"
"You won't be able to read my writing," he said.
"I can read your writing!" she laughed. "It's not as bad as you think it is. Anyway, it's not what your writing looks like, it's the story you're trying to tell."
Gilligan peered at the open notebook, debating whether to hand it over. "Well," he sighed at last. "Okay. But only if you promise not to make fun of how bad it is."
"I promise," said Mary Ann. "Girl scout's honour."
"Okay," said Gilligan, letting her have the book, and feeling the heat creep up his neck and into his ears as she began to read.
Gilligan and Mary Ann walked along the jungle path back to camp with their arms linked and the notebook tucked safely into his back pocket. Mary Ann was still laughing over the events in his story. He was relieved that she had found it funny for all the right reasons. She bit her lip and giggled at the Handsome Prince's attempts to steal the Princess's brain. She wondered aloud why anyone would want the brain of a girl who didn't know anything.
"Because she believed everything he told her," said Gilligan. "And he wanted her brain to belong only to him."
"I think it may just be a little bit unfair on the Professor," Mary Ann smiled, teasing him with her eyes. "He might lecture us a little bit from time to time, but I don't think he's out to steal anyone's brains."
"Who says it's about the Professor?"Gilligan replied, guilelessly.
"Talking like Cary Grant?" Mary Ann said, arching a perfect eyebrow.
"Maybe it is Cary Grant," Gilligan replied. But her gentle nudge against his ribs forced the confession out of him at last.
"Okay, it is the Professor. I just thought...I just thought you were...I don't know what I thought, Mary Ann. You've been spending a lot of time with the Professor lately, and..."
"You thought I liked him."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that." Gilligan shrugged, hoping he looked convincingly unconcerned.
"You thought I liked him more than I like you."
Gilligan couldn't escape from the truth. "Well, yeah." He looked away, twisting his features into a sideways smile. "Maybe. But that's okay. You're allowed to like people."
"Maybe you were even a little jealous, too? Like Gilligan in the story?"
Gilligan squirmed, tugging at his collar. "He wasn't jealous. He just didn't want her to get hurt. He didn't want her to lose her mind. I mean, her brain. To an Evil Inventor."
"With a giant Robot Girl," Mary Ann laughed.
"Yeah. That bit was kinda dumb."
"None of it was dumb, Gilligan. And I get it, really, I do." She walked beside him in silence for a bit, listening to their feet crunching over twigs and leaves. After a while she reached out and tugged playfully on his red rugby shirt. "I liked the bit where all the books rained down on Gilligan's head."
"Yeah?" Gilligan paused to help Mary Ann down a small stony incline. "I guess that bit means a little information is okay, but too much information at once can be pretty painful. It sure did hurt when all those books rained down on me. I mean, him," he corrected swiftly.
"Or that too much of the wrong information hurts, like thinking the Princess was in love with the Prince, when all along she was really in love with him."
Gilligan's eyes widened, and then he had to quickly duck his head to avoid being smacked in the face by a palm frond. "Mary Ann, trust you to think it's about love! I don't think you read it right. It's about an Evil Inventor with a giant Robot Girl who wants to take over the world!"
Mary Ann laughed at the serious look on Gilligan's face. She knew he'd be squirming inside at the mention of the word 'love'. She didn't need to push him any more. "It doesn't matter what it's about, Gilligan, she smiled. "It's a beautiful story, and I adore it."
"You do?" His face was a picture. "You really mean it?"
"Of course I mean it! Would I lie to you? After all, you're a King." She grinned up at him, at the goofy look on his face that he always got when he'd accidentally made someone happy.
"I'm no King," he replied. "I'm just a Gilligan who gets all the wrong ideas into his head."
"Well, in that case, I'm just a Mary Ann," said Mary Ann. "And I don't think I'll ever have to look too far to find my handsome prince."
With that, she squeezed Gilligan's arm and broke free, dancing and pirouetting along the path like a ballerina, laughing with delight as he broke into a skipping run and followed her.
The End