12. Hard Knock Life
12:10 PM day 3
Lunch had been temporarily delayed to allow for treatment of Gilligan's insect bite. And the young man stood, for the second time in so many days, on the table in the supply hut…shirtless. He felt no better about it than he had the first time.
"Ow!" Gilligan's whole body flinched as the Professor touched the large welt on his back. It was about as big around as the first mate's fist and was a deep shade of pink.
"Did that hurt?"
"And how! Your hands are cold too. It's like being poked in the back by one of those iron torpedoes."
"I apologize, Gilligan. But it's difficult to perform a proper examination when…" The Professor's voice trailed off.
"Go ahead and say it 'when I'm so small'." Gilligan let out a resigned sigh. After a moment of silence he spoke up again. "I don't understand. I've gotten mosquito bites before and they never felt like this. Just itched a little."
"That's because the proboscis managed to pierce muscle as well as your skin. And I'm afraid the toxin ratio compared to your body size is much greater than normal."
"Toxins?" The Skipper asked, instantly concerned. Up until that point he had not been particularly worried since it was only a little mosquito bite after all, but that one word sent a slight chill through him.
"The saliva in the creature serves as an anticoagulant, allowing it to circumvent the typical physiological responses. It affects vascular constriction, blood clotting, platelet aggregation and angiogenesis." The Professor moved to a shelf in the back of the hut to pick up a container made from a small slice of bamboo.
The Skipper found both his anxiety and confusion growing. Big medical words like that could not mean anything good.
"Wow." Gilligan said, both impressed and completely oblivious. "Who knew a little bug could have such a big vocabulary."
"But, what does it mean?" The Skipper asked anxiously, not even venturing a guess. "Is it dangerous?"
"I'm not overly concerned. The only way it could be a problem is if he gets a cut or something before the affect completely wears off. It may be difficult to control any bleeding."
"Gilligan," The Skipper shook his head. "How do you keep getting in all these messes? I wouldn't think such a little guy could get into so much trouble."
"It's not my fault, Skipper. I was just walking along, minding my own business when he attacked me."
"She."
Both captain and crew turned to the Professor in confusion. "What?"
"The mosquito that bit you. It was a female."
Gilligan's face scrunched in confusion. "I don't remember you being there." A second thought brought even more bewilderment. "How'd you know it was a girl? I mean, it wasn't wearing a skirt or anything."
The Skipper managed to look just as confused as his first mate. "I have to say, I'm with Gilligan on this one."
"Only the female of the species is hematophagous."
"Hema-tofu-what-amus?" Gilligan looked as if the word had left a particularly odd taste in his mouth.
"Hematophagous." The Professor repeated then proceeded to explain. "It means blood drinker. Only female mosquitoes drink blood."
"Why didn't you just say so?"
Ignoring the comment, the Professor opened the little island-made container to reveal a greenish colored cream.
"What is that stuff?" Gilligan asked, standing on his tiptoes to peek into the container. "It smells like grass and crayons."
"It's a liniment for insect bites. My own formula, made from ingredients here on the island." He smiled, looking rather proud of the concoction. "I developed it not long after our encounter with the mantis swarm." He scooped a small amount onto the tip of his finger then motioned for Gilligan to turn around.
"You gonna put that stuff on my back? Because I can't reach. Believe me. I've tried." He demonstrated, stretching an arm as far back as he could. A shiver ran up his spine as the cold substance touched his back. But he quickly relaxed as he felt it beginning to work. The Professor's touch still smarted but as the cream began to soak in the pain began to subside. "It feels better already."
"It should help some." The Professor put the lid on the container and placed it back on the shelf. "It is both an anti itch salve and an anti inflammatory."
"You mean it'll keep me from catching fire?"
The Professor managed to hide a smirk. Gilligan's misinterpretations never ceased to amuse him.
12:30 PM day 3
Gilligan sat on the table, perched comfortably on his spool-chair, thoroughly enjoying another one of Mary Ann's delicious meals. The first mate's little dining arrangement sat not far from the Skipper's plate. His back felt much better thanks to the ointment the Professor had made. It no longer itched and the pain had subsided to a slight ache.
The conversation was upbeat and there was an air of excited anticipation. The castaways knew that every moment that passed their rescuers grew nearer. And that's where the topic of conversation always seemed to turn.
"…and when we get back…" Mr. Howell was saying with gusto. "We'll throw a grand old coming home party with champagne, dancing and…" He turned to his wife. "We ought to see if that Lawrence Welk bunch is available for the entertainment." Once again addressing his fellow castaways he continued. "Everyone who's anyone will be invited. All of you will be the guests of honor, of course." Lifting his glass he toasted the ulikely bunch of commoners who had become his friends.
"Us, Mr. Howell?" Ginger's eyes sparkled with the thought of rubbing elbows with the social elite.
Mrs. Howell looked thoughtful for a moment. "I do believe we ought to use our house in Newport. The one with the big ballroom and the table that seats two hundred."
"Yes, we'll have a dinner fit for a king. And believe me there won't be a coconut, pineapple or banana on the table!"
That brought a good laugh from the rest of the table.
"Oh!" Mrs. Howell squeaked as if she had just been reminded of something. "Gilligan, would you be a dear and pass the pineapple jelly?"
"Uhh…" Caught off guard by the request, Gilligan just stared at the bowl that sat a few inches to his right. The rim was waist-high and about as big around as a backyard wading pool. He made a move to rise. "I can try."
"Never mind, Gilligan." With one hand the Skipper picked the bowl up and handed it across to the heiress.
"Lovey." Mr. Howell scolded quietly but still loud enough for everyone to hear. "You know the boy can't lift that."
"Well, I just thought that since he was the closest…"
A grin lit Ginger's face. "That reminds me of a joke I heard about a midget who walked into a bar—"
"Ginger!" Mary Ann backhanded her in the shoulder.
"What?" The movie star's eyes widened and she offered an apologetic grin. "Oh…sorry, Gilligan."
In answer Gilligan just gave a small, uncomfortable shrug and took a bite of fish. It seemed like every time he turned around he found another reason to hate being small.
The Skipper spoke up, trying to both break the awkward silence and change the subject at the same time. "You know, one thing I don't miss about civilization is the traffic."
There were nods all around. Everyone was grateful for the interruption.
"One time in downtown Honolulu there was a collision right in the middle of an intersection, a Mustang and a T-Bird."
At that point Gilligan stopped listening. He had heard this story before and knew the punch line. Besides, he had much heavier things on his mind. With a deep sigh he poked absently at his food wondering how much longer it would take for their rescue to come. He didn't know if he could handle being this small much longer.
"…five ambulances and four police cars!" The Skipper was really getting into the narration. His gestures became more expansive with each description. "The traffic was backed up for five miles!" To help illustrate the length he swung a hand to one side.
Gilligan never knew what hit him. One second he was taking a bite of pineapple and the next he was laying flat on his side feeling as if he had been hit by a bus. Little circles blinked across his vision and a loud ringing echoed inside his head. Voices swirled around him. At first they seemed very far away but after a moment they became clear and much too loud for his small ears to handle.
"Gilligan?"
"Is he alright?"
"Skipper, you need to be more careful."
"Assault and battery of an employee, not even I would stoop that low."
"Don't rub it in. He didn't mean to!"
"Gilligan, can you hear me, Little Buddy?"
Gilligan gave a little groan and with some effort managed to sit up. From there he grabbed the edge of the Professor's book and pulled himself to his feet.
"Gilligan, Little Buddy, are you alright? Did I hur'cha?"
"Is anything broken?" The Professor added.
"What happened?" Gilligan asked weakly, shaking his head to make the stars go away. He was still a bit dazed and kept a hand on the book for support.
"The captain tried to take your head off." Mr. Howell's comment elicited a slap in the arm from Mary Ann.
The Skipper had not even heard the rich man's remark. He was too upset over what he had done and what he easily could have done. "I hit you." The admission made him feel sick. "I was talking and I got a little carried away. I'm so sorry, Little Buddy!"
"It's okay, Skipper." Gilligan assured him, the stars in his head gradually dissipating. "I'm alright."
The big man took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. He could feel the anger building up inside. How could he have been so careless? At this size he well knew that Gilligan was fragile. If he had hit him any harder he could have knocked him right off the table. He could have killed him. The very thought made his stomach churn.
Gilligan could see the distress and guilt that showed plainly on his shipmate's face. "Skipper, don't worry about it." He took a step closer. "I've taken some hard knocks before. It's no big deal."
His Little Buddy's assurance made him feel only somewhat better. The Professor's hand rested on his shoulder.
"Skipper, there's no permanent harm done. Just learn from the experience and be more careful in the future."
Gilligan raised a hand. "There is one thing though."
The Skipper looked down at his tiny friend.
"I think I'll move my seat over there." The first mate pointed to a spot on the table out of the Skipper's reach.