Laments of a Soon-To-Be "Rescued" Sailor: (Gilligan Goes Emo)

Chapter 2: How to Chop Down Trees Without an Ax

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Gilligan followed Skipper back to camp. He really didn't want to hear what the others had to say. They would all keep repeating how excited they were to be rescued, which would mean Gilligan would really have to try to help even though he didn't want to. He would feel horrible if he let his desires cheat everyone else out of what they wanted most. He already knew he'd be letting Skipper down if he messed this up; hearing everyone else's excited words would just reinforce his knowledge that his messing up would cost them their dreams too.

Even though he already decided he'd try his best to help, knowing how many people depended on this plan to work was going to make him nervous... It may have seemed impossible that his ignorance would foil the entire plan, but he had ruined every rescue plot the castaways had ever thought up in the past. It was highly likely he'd ruin this one too; that would fulfill his own desires, but he really didn't want anyone else to be disappointed. After all, if being rescued would benefit six of the group while Gilligan was the only one who wouldn't benefit, it was only right that they should work toward the benefit of the whole group and not of just one person.

"I found him!" Skipper called out as he and Gilligan walked into the clearing where the castaways' huts were set up.

"Excellent," the Professor smiled a bit, but didn't look overly excited. The Professor hardly ever actually showed excitement. Gilligan figured it was probably because the man was too smart to be too happy. The Professor didn't let himself get his hopes up, which was wise, because if he was too excited about anything, he'd only end up being disappointed when Gilligan messed it all up, which he always did. The Professor was smart to have realistic expectations of the world.

"Oh, Gilligan!" Mary Ann ran up to him and hugged him.

Gilligan smiled. He liked Mary Ann. She was probably the nicest and least selfish person on the island, "Hi, Mary Ann," he said.

"Oh, Gilligan, did you hear!" She was very excited, just as Gilligan knew she would be. He liked to see her happy, but it made him so nervous. The happier his friends were now, the sadder they would be when he ruined everything.

"Yeah," Gilligan told her, assuming she was referring to the Professor's discovery of the extra sturdy nails.

"Isn't it exciting?" She beamed, "We'll finally get to go home again! I can't wait to see the farm... Maybe I can take you to see it, Gilligan! Oh, you'd love the farm. I know you like animals; we have lots of them on the farm in Kansas."

Gilligan nodded. He did like animals. He was always making friends with the ones he discovered on the island, "Sure," he agreed, "I'd love to see your farm," If he was going to have to go back to 'civilization,' at least he could visit Mary Ann's home. That might actually be fun.

"It'll be wonderful! We can have fresh eggs for breakfast, and in the summertime there's a great spot in the river where we can swim!" Mary Ann smiled, "we'll have to wake up early so we can work though. There's a lot of work involved in maintaining a farm."

"Gee, Mary Ann," Gilligan frowned, "we can do all of those things here... except the work. I mean, there's lots of work here, but it isn't something we have to do. We've got fresh goose eggs, and we swim by the waterfall all the time."

"True," Mary Ann looked like she was thinking. Then she grinned and looked back at Gilligan, "but there isn't fresh milk here!"

"Coconut milk," Gilligan commented.

"But that's not the same," Mary Ann told him.

Gilligan shrugged. He smiled at Mary Ann to let her know he wasn't arguing with her. He really did mean what he had said. Being on the island with no work would be preferable to being on a farm and having to work really hard every day, but if going back to Kansas made her happy, he wouldn't argue.

"And I can make you apple pie! I know you love my coconut pie here, and I don't even have all the right ingredients to make it on the island... Just wait until I have real flour, and sugar! And the milk! Oh! You could have a fresh warm piece of apple pie and a glass of milk! You'll simply love it Gilligan! I just know it! And peach pie, and pear pie... Oh, the possibilities are limitless!" Mary Ann was extremely excited.

Gilligan smiled. That did sound appealing. Pie was great, but he knew it wasn't worth going back. He'd rather stay here. Food wasn't his top priority. His top priority was to live a simple life where people wouldn't depend on him, in a place where he could goof up and no one would mind. But at least Mary Ann's pie was some little thing he could look forward to. They were going to go back to 'civilization' whether he liked it or not. At least he'd have pie...

Apparently during Gilligan's conversation with Mary Ann, someone had assembled the entire group, because now everyone else was there, gathered around, whispering to each other. The Professor stood in front of everyone else, on a flat rock as though he thought it was a stage of sorts.

"Alright, listen up everyone," he announced as though he was a teacher(which he was.) "You all should know by now that I've discovered a substance that can be molded into a strong nail! There is plenty of it here on the island, enough for hundreds of nails. All I've got to do is heat it over the fire, mold it into the proper shape, and then let it cool. It's a somewhat lengthy process, but in time, with the abundance of resources on this island, we'll be able to craft a boat that will get us back to civilization!"

"That's wonderful!" Ginger smiled, "that's the one thing we needed! Now we can patch up the Minnow... oh..." she stopped herself and looked in Gilligan's direction. Then she looked back toward the Professor, "but, Professor... What will we use to build the ship? We can't repair the Minnow... It's completely destroyed. Most of it even washed away into the ocean ages ago, remember?"

"Yes," the Professor said, throwing a quick glance in Gilligan's direction, "I do remember that. That's why the men are going to cut down trees by hand and fashion them into boards. It will be hard work, but we'll manage."

"Egad!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, "you don't actually expect a man of my class to cut down entire trees! I mean, really! How could I possibly?"

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Howell consoled him, "I'm sure he doesn't mean you. He means himself and Skipper, of course."

"Mr. Howell," the Professor started, sounding completely serious, "if we all work together this will go twice as fast. Mary Ann, Ginger, and Mrs. Howell can do the more delicate work, building sails and ropes, gathering and packing provisions... The men have a role to fulfill. And that includes you, Mr. Howell. And Gilligan too."

Gilligan frowned. He would much rather help the women. He didn't know why he was always thrown in with the men to do the hard work. Even Mr. Howell was usually with the women. Gilligan wasn't strong. And he wasn't good at anything. It was a wonder they ever asked for his help with anything at all, especially important and/or difficult tasks. His help usually was more of a hindrance than anything.

As usual, Gilligan kept quiet and didn't complain.

But Mr. Howell was not one to keep silence when he disagreed with something, especially when he was being asked to work, "I'm not a lumberjack!" the protested, "Do I look like I can handle such work? How would you feel if this plot became the death of me?"

Skipper looked to the Professor, "he really is kind of old to be doing such rough work," the Skipper muttered quietly, "Do you really think he can handle it? What if his heart gives out or something? You know we'd all feel awful."

"Old Skip is correct, Professor," Mr. Howell nodded in agreement. He was probably not meant to hear Skipper's words, but Skipper never could speak quietly, even when he wanted to, "My poor old first class heart may not be able to take it."

Now Mary Ann looked worried. Sometimes she was too nice, "You three can handle the trees by yourself can't you?" she pleaded, "I don't want Mr. Howell's health to be in danger. If something happened to him, we would all feel guilty forever!"

"Not to mention the rescue would be completely bittersweet," Mrs. Howell added.

"Fine, fine," The Professor agreed, "Gilligan, Skipper, and I can handle it, but it will likely take days longer this way."

"Fine by me," Mr. Howell smirked.

Gilligan felt his shoulders slump. This meant even more work for him. The task already seemed impossible. Now it was going to be even more impossible.

"Alright then," The Professor said, "you ladies (and Mr. Howell) can start working on making sails and using island plants to make rope. Skipper, Gilligan, follow me..."

... ... ...

Gilligan could feel his feet dragging as he followed Skipper, who followed the Professor, to a beach where there were an abundance of tall palm trees.

"Professor?" Gilligan asked, "how are we supposed to cut down trees without an axe?"

"That's what we need to figure out," the Professor responded, "My first thought was that we could fashion an ax out of some shells. We can tie certain kinds of shells, the very sharp and hard ones that is, to some short, thick branches. Then they could be used as axes."

"Will that work, Professor?" Skipper asked, "are shells strong enough to cut down trees without shattering? I don't know if either of you have ever attempted to cut down a tree, but you've got to swing an ax with a lot of force, and I don't think a shell is going to hold up."

"What if we try to make a saw?" Gilligan suggested, "A sea shell saw... Say that five times fast," he grinned.

"Gilligan!" Skipper grumbled, "will you stop joking around?"

"No, Skipper, he's right," the Professor agreed, "a saw would be much better. it would still take very sturdy shells, but we wouldn't be slamming them into the trees, so they would be less likely to break. We just need to find some serrated shells."

"Yeah, or some shells with little pointy parts that look like alligator teeth," Gilligan added.

Skipper rolled his eyes as though Gilligan had just said something stupid while the Professor simply nodded, "yes, Gilligan, shells with parts that look like teeth, so they can be rubbed against the trees and cause the wood to be filed away, thus cutting the tree down. It will be tedious work, but it will all be worth it in the end."

Gilligan sighed and looked at the Skipper. He wasn't going to start looking for shells until everyone else did too. He liked looking for shells, but knowing that he'd have to cut down trees with them when he was done sort of ruined the fun of it.

"We'll need to find a lot of shells," the Professor told them, "they'll likely break, so we'll need many more than just one each."

"Well, Little Buddy," Skipper said, "let's you and I go this way, and Professor you can go that way," he pointed one direction down the beach, and then the other, "when we have found some good shells, we'll meet back here then?"

The Professor nodded, "let's give it about an hour. Perhaps we can circle the entire island and meet again whenever our paths cross. That way we'll find all the shells the island has to offer."

"And if we don't find them today," Gilligan suggested, "the tide will bring in more tomorrow."

"Right," the Professor agreed, "but hopefully we can find enough today."

Gilligan and Skipper started walking one way and the Professor went the other.

"What about that one?" Skipper asked, pointing to a shell half buried in the sand.

Gilligan looked down at it, "yep," he said, "it looks pretty pointy... It'll probably be good," he looked back at the Skipper who looked annoyed. He supposed this meant the Skipper was expecting Gilligan to pick it up. The Skipper could be so lazy sometimes... Gilligan picked it up and turned it over in his hands, "Yeah... it's got a lot of little points on it. Just like alligator teeth. It'll make a good sea shell saw."

"We should have brought a basket," Skipper commented.

"We can use my hat," Gilligan offered, taking his hat off and placing the shell they found inside, "it won't carry tons of them, but it'll be better than nothing, right?"

"Good thinking, Little Buddy," Skipper smiled.

Gilligan smiled as well. He loved it when his friend was proud of something he did, even if it was something as small as coming up with a plan to carry sea shells. Skipper's approval meant the world to him.

They continued walking, stopping now and then when they found a shell that seemed worthy of being made into a sea shell saw. Before long, Gilligan's hat was full. The next few shells they found were stuffed into Gilligan's pockets, but they were full pretty quick too.

"Skipper," Gilligan suggested, "I think maybe we should start filling up your hat too."

"Are you kidding?" Skipper shouted, "If we do that, I'll be fighting to keep sand out of my hair for weeks! I don't want a bunch of dirty sandy shells in my hat..."

"But how are we going to carry any more shells any other way?" Gilligan asked, "the Professor will be mad if we come back with only half as many shells as we could have, don't you think? Besides, we could always wash your hat later. It could probably use a good bath."

Skipper smacked Gilligan with his hat, "my hat is perfectly clean!" he claimed.

Gilligan frowned and looked up at his friend. Sometimes all the convincing Skipper needed was to just think for a moment to himself without Gilligan saying anything at all.

"Fine," Skipper finally agreed, picking up a shell and tossing it into his own overturned hat, "but you're going to have to wash the sand out of it when we get back to camp."

Gilligan nodded, "Oooh!" his attention was taken away from Skipper when he saw a big, very sturdy-looking, and very jagged shell, "I think that one's perfect!"

Skipper spotted it as well, "good work, Gilligan."

Gilligan scooped it up and placed it in Skipper's hat.

"Get that one over there," the Skipper suggested, pointing toward a nearby shell.

Gilligan picked up the shell Skipper had spotted and put it in the captain's hat. They continued with this pattern until they had made it half way around the island and they finally crossed paths with the Professor who had walked the other half of the beach.

Even though Gilligan was dreading the work the shells were to be used for, he really thoroughly enjoyed his sea shell hunt with the Skipper. Skipper had seemed so proud of him when he found some really good shells, and Gilligan was in turn proud of himself for finally doing something right. Sure, Skipper had gotten frustrated with Gilligan a few times, but that was normal. Overall, Gilligan felt he had been successful today. He had done a good job with something. In fact, he couldn't think of even one thing he actually messed up today, and that was miraculous.

As the Professor, Skipper, and Gilligan compiled their shells into a somewhat massive pile, Gilligan's spirits immediately sunk. No matter how good of a job Gilligan had done in collecting shells, and no matter how proud of him Skipper was, they were still going to have to cut down entire trees with these sea shells.

Gilligan knew the Professor was a smart guy, but some of his plans astounded him. Cutting down trees with sea shells? They'd be lucky to get one tree down within twelve hours. This was the kind of tedious work prison inmates carried out over a span of months, filing away bars with a nail file. And now here they all were, planning on filing through tree trunks with little tiny shells. Gilligan couldn't believe how idiotic the plan sounded. Even though he had been the one to come up with it, the Professor had approved it. He liked to think the Professor knew what he was talking about, but he knew deep down that cutting down palm trees with sea shells was not going to be easy. The next few weeks were going to be horrible...

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Thank you for reading. I'll be working on the next chapter when I feel like it. ^_^