This chapter includes some intense parody of old school Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Most specifically the fact that the host Marlin Perkins has no emotion in his voice whatsoever and that poor Jim is always almost dying. The show premiered in 1963 and was educational, yet unintentionally hilarious. (Also, Marlin discusses the different animals with a chimp named W.K., haha!)
When their flight was over and Gilligan and Mary Ann landed safely, Mary Ann fell to her knees in the soft grass of the ravine's edge, breathless and tingling with excitement. "Oh, Gilligan, that was amazing! I've never felt so alive! You're wonderful!" she babbled, laughing hysterically, her eyes sparkling. "That was the most dangerous thing we've ever done, but it was fantastic!"
Gilligan knelt down in the grass before her. "Do you want to go again?"
"No!" she laughed, shaking her head, and flung her arms around his neck. Gilligan let go of the vine and it floated out over the valley by itself. "I don't know how I let you talk me into these things. I should've learned my lesson by now."
Mary Ann pulled back and took his face in her hands. Coils of hair had escaped from their pigtails and one of her bows hung untied. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily, still unable to quell her laughter. Mary Ann brushed his hair out of his eyes and for a moment Gilligan was scared that she was going to kiss him, as she was inclined to do when she got overly excited. But instead she released him and got carefully to her feet and dusted off her jeans.
"You're lucky we're on this island, Mary Ann," Gilligan commented as they headed back toward camp.
"Why?" she asked, even though she agreed with him - test missile notwithstanding.
"If we were back in the states and you said you wanted to fly, I'd have taken you skydiving." Gilligan grinned mischievously as Mary Ann slowed to a stop, wide-eyed, and he ambled down the hill ahead of her.
"No, you wouldn't!" Mary Ann insisted and ran after him. She jumped him from behind and he hoisted her up onto his back. "I'd never let you talk me into that," she maintained, wrapping her arms around his neck and pouting down at the top of his hat.
"Sure, you would." Gilligan broke into a gallop, causing Mary Ann to shriek and nearly strangle him.
As they raced down the hill, Mary Ann closed her eyes and felt the wind whip her hair out behind her. She leaned forward a little to balance herself and then carefully untangled her arms from around Gilligan's neck. She stretched them out beside her, the wind pushing against her palms and breezing through her fingers. She turned her hands, experimenting with resistance and drag.
She glided along for a few glorious moments until Gilligan tripped, sending Mary Ann sailing over his shoulder and both of them tumbling to the ground. They rolled to a stop further down the hill and Mary Ann lay staring up into the vivid blue sky until Gilligan's face appeared above her, blocking out the sun.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded and he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Gilligan, look at the sky." He plopped down beside her and did as she asked. "It's so clear and beautiful. You wouldn't think that in a matter of days a big missile will come out of it and destroy everything."
"The Professor says that we have no way of knowing for sure when it's coming unless they announce it. It could be hours."
"Gilligan!" Mary Ann sighed and rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows and peering down at him. "We're doing something on your list this afternoon."
The first mate looked thrilled. "Yeah? Which one?"
She was quiet for a moment, not having actually decided. "Gilligan, who's A.M. and why do you want to dance with them?"
Gilligan frowned and looked away. "I didn't think we'd be switching lists."
"It's okay. I like a mystery." Mary Ann patted his stomach fondly. "Thank you for making me fly. Even though I was really grumpy when you made me get up early and put on pants. It was worth it." Mary Ann actually kissed his cheek this time and he flinched. He screwed his face up in his usual show and she laughed as she got to her feet. "I think today calls for a safari," she announced as she strolled down the hill toward camp.
Gilligan grinned and leapt to his feet in an instant. "Oh, boy!" He held his hat to his head with one hand as he bounded down the hill after her.
When they returned to camp, they approached the Howells' section of the hut to ask if Gilligan could borrow Mr. Howell's "funny bowl hat" for that afternoon's safari. Mrs. Howell beamed, clasping her hands before her, and insisted that the pith helmet would do nothing for Gilligan without the jacket with four thousand pockets, which of course could not be paired with anything but the matching shorts, knee socks, and hiking boots, which were conspicuously clean for being hiking boots. Mrs. Howell then insisted that if Mary Ann were going on safari as well, she would need similar attire. One must always be dressed properly for the situation at hand. Also, Mrs. Howell liked it when things came in matched sets, especially people.
Mrs. Howell quickly pushed the gear into Gilligan's hands and sent him off to change while she got Mary Ann ready, insisting that they hurry before Mr. Howell came back and charged them a rental fee.
Fully dressed, Mary Ann sat at the table in the middle of camp, idly playing with the pearls hanging around her neck. Her hands were sweating in their long white opera gloves, but Mrs. Howell had insisted that a real lady never "safaris" without them.
She sighed and pushed back her pith helmet. It had an annoying habit of sliding down over her eyes since it was used to perching perfectly on a flawlessly coiffed and hairspray-ed millionaire head and not to plopping haphazardly on her smaller, quickly brushed and unprocessed head. She glanced around the clearing impatiently.
Finally Gilligan emerged from the crew's quarters clad in Mr. Howell's safari gear, shorts drooping and his pith helmet hanging comically over half his face. Mary Ann snorted a laugh and covered her mouth, taking the moment it took for him to push his helmet back up to recover. She watched as he took the helmet off, frowned at it, and then produced his own hat from his back pocket. He deposited it on his head and balanced the helmet on top. When he was satisfied that he had solved the slipping problem, he strode over to the table, Mr. Howell's sword cane under one arm and the machete he stole from the Japanese sailor hanging on his belt.
Gilligan adjusted his silk cravat as he approached. "Lovey, dear, I do believe our butler's butler has scheduled us for a safari today," he drawled. "I do hope Charles cleared a space above the mantle for the wildebeest I'm going to make him shoot for me."
Mary Ann giggled. "You look ridiculous."
"So do you."
Mary Ann glanced down at her own outfit: Mrs. Howell's khaki shirt and matching long skirt, leopard print belt, tall brown boots, and too much jewelry. She hated to admit it, but she kind of liked it. It reminded her of the afternoons she spent playing dress-up with her cousins. "Are you ready for your safari?"
Gilligan nodded eagerly and his pith helmet swung down over his face again. "I don't know why I have to wear this outfit, though."
"You said you wanted to go on a real safari."
"Yeah, with the machetes and the guys who sit on the front of the Jeep with guns just in case the hippos charge."
"And the funny hats like Mr. Howell wears," Mary Ann reminded him. "Besides, the knee socks are kinda cute."
Gilligan frowned and peered down at his knobby knees peeking out from below the hem of Mr. Howell's khaki shorts. His belt was pulled as tight as it would go, extra fabric bunching around his slim waist. The knee socks in question kept sneakily slipping down his skinny legs until they lay in puddles on top of his boots and he had to hike them up again. "I think they're silly."
Mary Ann stood and approached, eyeing him up and down until he squirmed uncomfortably. She finally planted her hands on her hips. "You look like a world famous explorer," she decided.
"And you look like a bored rich lady," he countered. Mary Ann smirked and smacked his helmet down over his eyes and turned toward the jungle. He reached out blindly, hands searching. "Mary Ann? Mary Ann, I'm sorry. Where are you?" He managed to push his helmet back into place just as he tripped over the canteen, binoculars, and other supplies waiting on the ground by the table.
Face down in the sand, he heard Mary Ann gasp dramatically from the edge of the clearing. "My goodness! Is that a lion?"
Gilligan spat sand from his mouth and hurried to gather up the supplies and both of his hats. "Where?" He scrambled to his feet just in time to see the gauzy scarf hanging from Mrs. Howell's pith helmet disappear into the jungle and he hurried after it.
# # # #
Gilligan and Mary Ann crouched in the underbrush, watching for any sign of wildlife.
More specifically, Mary Ann was watching for any sign of wildlife.
Gilligan was noisily rummaging through the four thousand pockets on Mr. Howell's safari jacket looking for his pocket knife. A small pile of other items taken from the pockets sat on the ground in front of them: a pen, a Rolex, various snacks that Gilligan had packed for the afternoon, some loose diamonds, Mary Ann's list, and a roll of hundred dollar bills that Mr. Howell used to mop his perspiring brow.
"Gilligan, be quiet! If there are any wild animals on this island you'll scare them all away before you can see any of them."
"Sorry," he replied louder than necessary and she cringed. He dropped the canteen and it landed on a rock with a loud clang.
A bird took off from a nearby tree in protest and Mary Ann pointed after it. "See?"
Gilligan squinted in the direction it fled and shrugged. "It's okay. We're not safaring for birds, anyway." Not finding his pocket knife, he began shoving the other items back into the pockets, pausing to cross Fly off of Mary Ann's list before tucking that safely away as well.
Mary Ann took the pen from him and removed Gilligan's list from her own pocket, flattening it out on her knee as she knelt in the grass. She triumphantly crossed off Go on a safari. When she returned the pen to him, he was frowning. "What?"
"It doesn't count as done until we're done."
"Gilligan, look at my hat." He did and he smirked. "We're on a safari. It counts."
The sound of branches breaking suddenly sliced through the air and their heads whipped around in unison. They crouched lower in the grass and peered toward the noise. Gilligan instinctively grabbed for the binoculars and pulled them toward him. He failed to remember that the strap was looped around Mary Ann's neck until he had yanked her into his lap and she yelped.
Gilligan stared down at her, wide eyed, as she grabbed blindly at his legs to push herself upright. Mary Ann plopped down beside him, right side up again, and shoved her pith helmet out of her face. "How about I be the scout and you be the hunter?" she suggested, taking back the binoculars.
Gilligan nodded. "Good idea." He took the machete from his belt and Mary Ann eyed it warily. "I think I –." He stopped and held a finger to his lips, head cocked to one side, ears perking up. He nodded toward the trail where the noise had come from and Mary Ann raised the binoculars. A few hundred yards away, the foliage was rustling with the movements of a large creature.
Gilligan and Mary Ann huddled together behind a fat pineapple bush and held their breath. After a moment, the Skipper lumbered out of the foliage and down the trail into a clearing about two hundred yards ahead of them. They watched him curiously as he paced restlessly. As they watched, Gilligan began whispering a monotone narration.
"King of beasts, the African lion. Roaming the open savanna fearing attack from no other animal. His roar is a threat to all who live within his range. Powerful, stealthy, with amazing physical abilities, this is the most feared hunter on the African continent. But no need to be afraid, W.K." Mary Ann turned and gave him a bemused smile. Gilligan was watching the Skipper intently, lips twitching in a proud smile as he thought up more parody narration. "This fearsome creature has just completed a hunt and will not harm you unless provoked. Just as the mother lion protects her cubs, you can protect your children with an insurance policy from Mutual of Omaha."
"Thank you, Marlin Perkins," Mary Ann whispered.
"You're welcome, W.K." Gilligan continued narrating, completely devoid of any emotion. "A successful hunt has ended and a heavy-maned lion grows drowsy under the hot afternoon sun." The Skipper sat down on a large rock and took of his cap, running his hand through his hair. He looked more exhausted than sleepy. "He lies on the open savanna with no thought of cover, for no animal would dare to attack him. But wait!" He spotted the Professor coming down the path toward the clearing. "My trusty and gullible sidekick Jim Fowler has approached the beast, intent to overpower him. Viewers, while Jim battles this five hundred pound cat, I'll just mix myself another martini."
Mary Ann burst out laughing and elbowed Gilligan in the ribs. They laughed and loudly shushed each other as the Professor reached the Skipper and a conversation ensued. Gilligan kept on narrating the scene and Mary Ann clamped both opera gloved hands over her mouth. Her side hurt from laughing and she repeatedly nudged Gilligan to make him stop, but this only encouraged him.
"As I stay over here, well out of harm's way, Jim approaches the beast with only his wits to protect him." The Professor was very intently trying to reason with the Skipper, who was adamantly disagreeing with him. "As always, Jim is unaware of how stupid this is."
As Gilligan continued his narration and Mary Ann watched the silent scene unfold in the clearing before her, she began to realize how upset the Skipper actually looked. Then she remembered the missile. Of course he would feel angry and guilty and helpless.
Mary Ann tugged on Gilligan's sleeve. "Gilligan, stop." But he didn't hear her, too amused by his commentary.
The Skipper was pacing again, waving his cap in the air angrily.
"As the king of the savanna and the pride's leader, the big cat does not take kindly to surrender."
The Professor went dizzy watching the captain, trying to get a word in and failing miserably.
"Stop, Gilligan."
"Poor Jim doesn't stand a chance. The alpha male is stubborn and will protect his pride at all costs."
The Skipper slapped his hat against a tree.
"Gilligan! Stop!"
Everyone froze. All sound was sucked out of the atmosphere as the Skipper and the Professor stared at the small khaki-clad figure which had sprung to her feet and was glaring down at Gilligan, who was still hidden behind the pineapple bush.
The Professor broke the silence first. "Mary Ann?"
Her head snapped up and she stared at the red-faced Skipper through huge eyes. "I'm sorry, Skipper."
The captain's mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to find his voice. His brow wrinkled in confusion as he took in her outfit. "What are you doing?" he yelled much more intensely than he intended and she flinched violently.
"Skipper, relax." The Professor quickly stepped up beside him.
"I ... I ..." Mary Ann couldn't find the words to make him understand. Everything that came to her mind sounded completely insane.
Thankfully, Gilligan chose this moment to get to his feet and step in front of her. "We're going on a safari, Skipper," he informed him bluntly, sliding the machete purposefully back into his belt.
Gilligan saw the Skipper's temper boiling under the surface and braced himself for the worst eruption yet, but the Skipper turned to the Professor instead, pointing at the two youngest castaways with his cap. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Professor. No one understands how serious this is! The Howells throw a new version of their will into the ocean every two hours. Ginger's complaining about how she'll only be remembered for that movie she made about the hula girl. You're talking to me about the specifics of how exactly we'll blow up!" The Professor looked slightly ashamed and the Skipper rounded on Gilligan and Mary Ann. "And these two! Look at them! They act like children!"
Gilligan steeled his backbone and took a few steps toward the distraught captain. The Professor stepped forward, arms out, ready to hold them apart. Mary Ann stayed close behind Gilligan, gripping the khaki jacket that hung too big on him. "Skipper, stop!" he yelled, standing up a little straighter in Mr. Howell's boots and gripping the sword cane.
"Skipper, everyone's dealing with this differently," the Professor added calmly, but the captain didn't seem to hear him.
The Skipper shook his head and heaved a sigh that could move mountains. "Little buddy, you don't get it. We're all going to die."
This hung heavy in the air for a long moment. No one had said it so frankly and so loudly out in public before. They all stole a glance into the heavens, afraid that the missile heard this and would take it as its cue.
"We know, Skipper," Mary Ann whispered from behind Gilligan's shoulder.
"And there's nothing we can do about it!"
Gilligan stood his ground. "We're doing something about it. We're doing a lot of things about it. Carp the diem, Skipper." The Professor was unable to hold back a smile at this as Gilligan turned around and held his hand out to Mary Ann. "Come on. Let's go."
Mary Ann took his arm and gripped his bicep close to her as they left. She glanced back at the Skipper, growing smaller in the distance. He had visibly deflated and the color was draining from his face and under the collar of his shirt. He sat back down on the rock and the Professor laid a steady hand on his shoulder.
Mary Ann took Gilligan's list out of her pocket and unfolded it. He tried to squirm away as she fished around in a few of his jacket's four thousand pockets until she found the pen. And as they returned to camp in their baggy borrowed clothes, a little shaken but a little proud, she crossed off Tame a lion.