5. Nightmares
Gilligan stood on a vast yellow plane. It seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. As he walked across its strange woven surface he wondered just where he could be. Huge objects towered high above his head. Some were strange cylinders the size of sky-scrapers, others were giant spheres of various colors. He came near to one that was even more yellow than the ground he walked on and smelled like fruit. It looked like a sixty foot banana.
"Where is Gilligan? A voice boomed as loud as thunder. Gilligan looked to the sky, covering his ears.
The yellow plane did end, and past that end stood a figure higher than a mountain. He had to bend backwards to see the top. The figure spoke again. "Have you seen my Little Buddy?"
Gilligan gasped as he realized that the immense giant was none other than the Skipper. How did he get so big?
"I haven't seen the lad all day." Another voice boomed.
Gilligan whirled around to see Mr. Howell. He too was bigger than anything the first mate could have ever imagined.
"Breakfast is served." Mary Ann came into view, looming far above his head and set down a plate the size of the Rose Bowl. That was when it dawned on him that the vast plane on which he stood was in fact the communal table!
"How about you, Mary Ann?" The Skipper asked. "Have you seen Gilligan?"
"No. You looking for him?"
"I'm right here, Skipper." Gilligan answered, waving a hand at the captain. "What do you want?"
"Yes." The Skipper answered Mary Ann without even acknowledging Gilligan's question. "I want him to check the lobster traps but I can't seem to find him anywhere."
"Oh, you know Gilligan. He hates work." Came Ginger's breathy voice as her monumental form came into view. "He's probably hiding from you, Skipper."
"I am not!"
"You know, the boy is a bit more than fashionably late." Mrs. Howell remarked, waving a hand adorned with a ring as big as a satellite dish.
"I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The Professor said. "His olfactory senses are sure to detect the aroma of breakfast and he'll come running."
Gilligan turned in a circle, looking up at his colossal friends. He felt like a Lilliputian among a crowd of Gulliver's. "I'm right here!" He shouted again, this time at the top of his voice. He jumped up and down and waved his arms. Surely they would see him. He was right under their noses.
A shriek tore through the air. The sound was so loud it brought Gilligan to his knees, both hands clamped tightly over his ears.
"A bug!" Ginger shouted.
When he looked up she was pointing in his direction. He looked around him for the insect in question but saw nothing more than the surrounding tabletop.
Two more screams ripped at his eardrums. These came from Mary Ann and Mrs. Howell.
"Oh, what a horrid little creature!" Mrs. Howell cringed.
"This island is infested." Mr. Howell exclaimed. "We must call an exterminator at once!"
Again Gilligan looked around for what the others could be so upset about and again he saw nothing that would cause such commotion.
"Kill it, Professor!" Ginger cried.
"Perhaps that would be the wisest solution. The insects in this area can be poisonous."
"Poisonous?" Gilligan squeaked. Looking about him again with renewed urgency.
"I'll get him." He heard the Skipper say just before the ground shook with such violence that he was thrown off his feet. A rolled-up magazine the size of a semi thudded to the ground beside him. He scrambled backwards as it lifted up into the air again. "Missed!" The captain said, wielding the magazine like a fly swatter.
Horrible realization hit the first mate like a speeding locomotive. He was the cause of the panic. They thought he was a bug! "Skipper, it's me! Your Little Buddy!" He cried frantically, trying to dodge the gigantic silverware that the girls were now hurling at him. He turned and ran the other way, barely missing a book the size of a whole library that slammed down in front of him. The shockwave rippled beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. He landed hard on his face, looking up just in time to see the magazine descending upon him
7:05 AM day2
Gilligan screamed and threw his arms up to protect himself. Trying to roll out of the way he flipped himself right out of his hammock and onto his slumbering bunk mate below.
The Skipper was jolted awake as a blow knocked the wind out of him. He opened his eyes to see Gilligan's blue eyes not two inches from his own. "Gilligan!" He bellowed angrily.
"I'm sorry Skipper." Gilligan said as he managed to slip off the captain's ample stomach and land with an 'oof' in the soft sand. "But I had a nightmare." He dusted himself and stood to his full height, which couldn't have been much more than two feet.
The captain could do little but stare wide-eyed at how small his first mate had become.
"Oh, Skipper, it was awful! I dreamed that I was standing on the table." He pointed in the general direction of door, outside which stood the communal table. "Only it was huge. The size of the Yankee Stadium. I heard this voice that was so loud I had to cover my ears and I looked up and it was you. And Skipper you were gigantic. I mean, even bigger than you are now!"
The captain frowned indignantly at the comment.
"Everybody was big, Skipper; you, the girls, the Howells and even the Professor. I had to look straight up just to see anybody's face. You were asking if anybody'd seen me. I tried to tell you that I was right there in front of you. I tried everything but you still didn't see me." He demonstrated, waving and jumping up and down. "Then the girls started screaming and throwing dishes the size of flying saucers at me." The young man's voice rose higher in pitch as he became more and more upset. "Skipper I was so small everyone thought I was a bug!! Then you took a rolled up newspaper and…" Gilligan, already nearly in tears, stopped mid-sentence. His blue eyes widened as they panned slowly up the Skipper's large form, from his sneakers to the cap on his head. In his panic he hadn't noticed just how much bigger than him his captain actually was. He took a step back in shock. "It is true, Skipper! I am shrinking. What am I going to do?! I can't be this small! Where will I buy clothes? How can I ride my bike? What will I—"
"Don't panic, Little Buddy." The Skipper put a giant hand on Gilligan's tiny shoulder. "Everything's going to be fine."
"Fine?!" Gilligan cried. The nightmare had left a deep impression on him and now his greatly decreased size truly frightened him. "Look at me! I couldn't meet the height requirement for a merry-go-round."
"Come on, Gilligan." The Skipper rose from his hammock, towering above the little first mate. Gilligan's head barely rose above his knee. "Let's see if the Professor has made any progress."
The sun was just beginning to peek over the palm trees as they hurried over to the Professor's hut. Gilligan had to run to keep up.
The Skipper pounded on the door frame. "Professor!" Usually he would have just walked right in but he knew the delicate nature of the Professor's work and didn't want to jeopardize whatever he might be doing.
"I'm terribly busy." Came the tired voice from inside.
"It's about Gilligan."
"Come in."
They stepped into the supply hut to see the Professor with his back to them, studying something on a little wooden table that sat across from the troublesome machine. He turned toward them as they entered. Gilligan took in a small breath. He had never seen the Professor look so haggard. The Professor always kept himself so neat and trim. But now his shirt tail hung out on one side, stubble shadowed his face and dark circles under his eyes gave him a somewhat haunted look.
"Hey, Professor, are you sick or somethin'?" Gilligan asked, momentarily forgetting about his size in light of his friend's condition.
The Professor looked down at him and managed to stifle the shock of seeing the first mate so small. He had known, of course, about the size Gilligan would be now. But knowing and seeing were two different things. He forced a smile. "I'm fine, Gilligan. I've just been up all night working on a way to restore your height."
The way he looked Gilligan was sure that he hadn't taken one break.
"Now, Skipper, what is it?"
"Well, I ep…" The Skipper stammered, now not quite sure why he had come.
"You were so startled at Gilligan's decrease in size that you thought I'd better see him too." The Professor deduced.
The Skipper shrugged. "I guess so. Have you made any progress?"
"Some." The Professor motioned to the table.
Gilligan climbed up onto the nearest chair so he could see. "Looks like a fruit salad for a doll house."
On the table sat an assortment of pint-sized fruit; coconuts the size of marbles, mangos as small as jelly beans and a pineapple that could have passed for a Hawaiian paperweight.
"I have been experimenting with the 'shrink ray'," He had adopted Gilligan's name for the device for lack of a better one. "And have succeeded in reproducing the charge that began your reduction. However, achieving the reverse affect has proved more difficult. Although I have managed to slow the reduction rate to some extent."
"So you are making some headway?" The Skipper asked, desperate for some good news.
"Some." The Professor said with an honest sigh. "But there are so many controls and so many combinations and nothing is properly labeled." He shook his head in frustration.
"Maybe you just need a nap, Professor." Gilligan suggested. Even standing on the chair he just reached the Professor's chest. "My grandma always used to say:" He changed his voice to a grandmotherly squeak. "'Revelation always comes in your sleep."
The Professor smiled a bit. "I'm afraid I haven't the time or luxury for sleep right now, Gilligan. Now, please. I really need to get back to work." He shooed them both out the door and closed it behind them.
"You know, Skipper, it's not good for him to go without sleeping like that. One time Skinny Mulligan stayed awake for seventy hours, then fell asleep during the big football game. He caught a pass then fell asleep, just dropped right in the middle of the field. It would have been alright except…"
Mary Ann stepped into the clearing with a stack of plates, took one look at Gilligan and screamed. The plates fell from her hands and clattered to the sand. "I'm sorry." She said instantly, kneeling down to pick up the mess. Gilligan moved over to help her. "I just wasn't expecting…"
"What's all the ruckus about?! At this time in the morning, I mean really!" Mr. Howell, groused as he stepped out of his hut, wife close behind. He wore a silk, monogrammed robe and carried his scruffy teddy bear. "With a scream like that you'd think the stock market crashed." He shook an irritated finger at Mary Ann. Then he saw Gilligan and let out a startled shout of his own. "Good heavens! The boy's been shortchanged!" He exclaimed, stepping a bit closer to examine the first mate.
"Oh, Gilligan." Mrs. Howell scolded, shaking a gloved finger. "You've been indulging in that nasty coffee habit again!"
Gilligan stood up, holding two plates that, to him, were as big around as trash can lids. "Mrs. Howell, I told you I don't even like coffee. I wouldn't have had time to have any if I did but I don't. Because I didn't."
"Heavens to Freud! That boy needs a psychiatrist." Mr. Howell chuckled to himself and added. "Or should I say a 'shrink'?"
"That's enough, Howell." The Skipper warned. His first mate was having enough trouble without the millionaire's condescending remarks.
Just then Ginger opened the door to her hut and glided over to join the group. She saw Gilligan and brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle a surprised squeak. "Oh, Gilligan." She said with a small giggle. "You remind me of my wool sweater when it shrank in the wash."
"No I don't." He said, trying to ignore the tactless teasing. "That sweater was fuzzy and pink with little flowers and…"
"Gilligan, why don't you go help Mary Ann with breakfast." The Skipper ordered before his first mate ran off into some pointless conversation.
"Sure Skipper. But what about the lobster traps?" Gilligan flinched slightly as soon as he said it. It was usually his first duty in the morning and he shouldn't have reminded his captain of the fact. He would much rather hang out with Mary Ann then wade around in the lagoon and get his fingers pinched.
"I'll deal with the lobster traps today."
Gilligan knocked one ear with his palm, trying to dislodge whatever must be affecting his hearing. "Say that again. I don't think I heard you right." The Skipper would never do a job if he thought Gilligan could do it without catastrophe.
"I said I'll see to the lobster traps this morning."
The first mate shrugged, not daring to question his good luck further. "Okay, Skipper. But watch the pincers."
"I will." He said with a hint of sarcasm as Gilligan followed Mary Ann from the clearing.
"That was awful nice, Skipper." Ginger said with suspicion. She too wondered why the captain had so generously offered to do Gilligan's job. It wasn't as if the first mate was actually sick, just small.
"I want him to stay close to camp." The Skipper explained. "I'm afraid he'll get lost."
"Lost?" Mr. Howell scoffed. "That boy knows this island better than I know a thousand dollar bill!"
"Yes, Dear. But I would imagine things would look differently when one is so small."
"That's exactly my point. If he gets lost and doesn't come back by this evening…" The Skipper trailed off, swallowing hard.
"Or what?" Ginger asked, noting the somber tone in the Skipper's voice. " 'If he doesn't come back by this evening' what?"
The Skipper sighed heavily. He had not planned on telling them. No use everyone else being as worried as he was. But he supposed they had a right to know. "I might as well tell you. If the Professor doesn't find a way to stop Gilligan from shrinking by 7:00…" He removed his hat and held it over his heart. "It's going to be curtains."
Mr. Howell and Ginger looked shocked while Mrs. Howell nodded in approval. "Well it's about time you boys added a feminine touch to that hut of yours."
The millionaire hugged his wife a little closer as if she could protect him from the dire news. "You mean if the Professor can't stop this dastardly recession the poor boy will be…?"
The Skipper nodded solemnly. "He'll shrink out of existence."
"Poor Gilligan." The movie star's eyes glistened.
Mrs. Howell tapped her chin thoughtfully with one gloved finger. "You ought to try a floral pattern. It would really compliment the green of the hut."
"Lovey, what in the name of J.P Morgan are you talking about? This is serious business!"
"Well of course it's serious. If Gilligan's going to be putting up curtains they need to decide on an appropriate fabric."
"No. The captain doesn't mean 'curtains' as in window dressings. He means 'curtains' as in death: the final bankruptcy."
Mrs. Howell's eyes widened in realization and she took in a small gasp. "Oh, dear! Whatever can we do to help?"
The Skipper shook his head despondently. "I don't think there's much we can do but hope the Professor can make him big again."
"We should feed him spinach." Mrs. Howell concluded with a decisive nod.
The others just stared at her in confusion.
"Spinach makes one grow up big and strong. Or so I've been told."