The Skipper eagerly dragged his reluctant first mate towards the Professor's hut. "Come on, now, Gilligan. The Professor's all ready for you."

"Well, I'm not ready for him! Do you remember the last time he hypnotized you? You thought we were all Japanese soldiers! You locked us up in a cave!"

The Skipper paused, embarrassed. "Now, Gilligan--"

"You even thought the girls were Japanese soldiers! Skipper, I've got a lot of respect for the Professor, but when a man like you looks at Ginger and Mary Ann and thinks he sees Japanese soldiers!--"

"Gilligan!" The voice was like a cannon volley. Gilligan quieted. The Skipper tipped his hat at the girls as he paused before the supply hut. "Would you excuse us, ladies?"

"Of course, Skipper," said Mary Ann. "We'll get lunch started. And don't worry, Gilligan! You're going to be just fine." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried off.

"Just trust the Professor, Gilligan," urged Ginger. "And by the way, boys," she added seductively over her shoulder as she turned to leave, "if anybody starts thinking I'm a Japanese soldier, I'll just have to convince him otherwise - won't I?" With that parting shot, she turned and swayed off.

It was a moment before the Skipper remembered what he had come there to do. Then he turned back to his first mate and opened the door. "Come on, Gilligan."

He propelled his smaller friend through the door and over to the Professor's table, where the Professor was sitting waiting with a strange pendant in his hand: a large, pearl-grey seashell suspended from a circlet of twine. "Ah, Gilligan, I'm glad you decided to come."

"I didn't exactly have a lot of choice," Gilligan explained, glaring at the Skipper.

The Professor wisely chose to ignore this. "Sit right here. We're going to try a little experiment."

The Skipper pushed Gilligan into the chair but he popped right back up, like a Jack-in-the-Box. "Oh, no! Professor, please don't think I'm being disrespectful or anything, but I'm not too sure about this."

"Why?"

"Because I like me the way I am! Even if I am only Gilligan!"

The Professor smiled. "Gilligan, I'd never try to change who you are. I only want to help you feel better."

"Feel better? Well, I can tell you how to do that, easy!"

"How?"

Gilligan appealed to them both. "Do something to get rid of the ghost!"

The Skipper pushed him into the chair again, but gently. "Gilligan, that's what he's going to do. with hypnosis. Now, please, little buddy, just let him try!"

"You promise I'm not gonna turn into Mary Ann?" Gilligan didn't look too convinced.

"I promise, Gilligan. The point of this therapy is not to alter your personality; it's merely meant to shift your memory patterns."

Gilligan relaxed, but was still on guard. "Oh. Well, okay. As long as you don't try to make me forget anything."

The Skipper gave him a small shove on the shoulder. "Gilligan, that's the whole point of this!"

"But Skipper--!"

The Professor tried to explain. "Gilligan, we need to suppress the memory of the hallucinations, because the problem is perpetuating itself, like a bad cough."

"A bad cough??"

"Yes. Do you know what cures a bad cough?"

"Yeah! A pirate cuts your head off!"

"Yes. I-I mean no!" The Professor scowled, momentarily flustered, while the Skipper grabbed his hat for a swat, but restrained himself. "I'm talking about cough syrup, Gilligan."

"What?? Professor! Cough syrup's not going to do you much good once your head's been cut off!"

"Gilligan!" This time the hat came down and whacked Gilligan's sailor cap askew. "You're gonna need a cure if you don't be quiet and let the Professor finish. Now go on, Professor."

The Professor sighed and squared his shoulders, determined to finish his lesson before discipline totally broke down in his class. "Cough syrup, Gilligan, cures a bad cough because it anaesthetizes the throat in order to cover up the irritation. Well, by the same token, this hypnosis is meant to anaesthetize your memory of the ghost, so that your psyche can begin to heal."

Gilligan was still biting his lip in doubt, but realized there was no use in arguing. "Well, all right, Professor. I guess you know best."

"Why, thank you, Gilligan. I'll promise that I'll certainly try my best." The Professor looked up at the Skipper. "Thanks for your help, Skipper. I'll call you if I need you."

Recognizing his cue, the Skipper patted Gilligan on the shoulder and left.

The Professor turned back to his patient, raising the seashell pendant. "Now, Gilligan, concentrate on this shell." He swung the swirling seashell back and forth as Gilligan's blue eyes followed it.

"You are starting to feel sleepy, Gilligan. You can hardly keep your eyes open."

"Professor, I'm telling you, this isn't going to be easy. This stuff never works on me because--" Gilligan's eyelids suddenly fluttered wildly, and his chin flopped to his chest.

The Professor sat back, surprised, then smiled. This was going to be easier than he'd thought. "Now, Gilligan...we are going to travel backwards in time...back to yesterday."

Gilligan stirred faintly. "Yesterday," he mumbled.

"Yesterday morning, you and the Skipper went fishing in the lagoon. Try to picture yourself there now...the green palms dancing in the warm trade winds...the heat coming off the sand...the sun rippling on the water..."

"Sand...water..." murmured Gilligan.

"You are there now. There is no hurry - you can fish all day if you want to. It is a perfect day. You and the Skipper are laughing and talking together."

"Skipper..."

"What are you saying to each other?"

Gilligan's voice began to alternate between deep, booming tones, and his own. "...say, what happened to my...Gilligan, cut that out!...Skipper! Look out for the...Gilligan, you nincompoop!...Sorry, Skipper...ouch..."

The Professor drew back with a wry expression. "All right, all right, Gilligan, let's move on. You caught some nice fish. We all enjoyed them at lunch. It was a wonderful meal."

A slow smile spread across Gilligan's face. "Yeah..." he said softly.

The Professor's face lit with an answering smile. "Now, Gilligan...that meal is the last thing you are going to remember, until you wake up and find yourself sitting at my table."

**********************

Ginger and Mary Ann were setting the table for lunch when they spotted the Skipper tiptoeing out of his hut, gingerly holding the cutlass by two fingers. "Skipper? Where are you going with that thing?" asked Mary Ann.

The Skipper jumped, startled, then put his fingers to his lips. "Sshh, Mary Ann. I'm on my way to hide this where Gilligan will never find it!"

"Oh, I get it," said Ginger, pausing as she arranged flowers around the plates. "We don't want any reminders of Gilligan's ghost around, do we?"

"Exactly. Now, when he and the Professor come out, just play along with whatever the Professor says."

"Okay, Skipper," the two women promised. The Skipper began to tiptoe away again, but before he could make good his escape, the door of the Professor's hut opened. He quickly hid the cutlass behind his back as the Professor and his patient emerged.

To their surprise, Gilligan smiled happily at them all. The Professor, looking quite delighted, was patting him on the shoulder. He addressed them all with even more deliberation than usual, as though he were cueing a troupe of actors. "Well, folks, it looks as though Gilligan's over his sunstroke, and apparently suffering no ill effects."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" chorused Ginger and Mary Ann, glancing at the Skipper, the Professor and back to Gilligan again.

"Yeah!" said Gilligan, not appearing to notice. "Boy, I sure won't sit out in the hot sun like that again. I can't remember a single thing that happened after lunch yesterday. Not a thing!"

The Skipper laughed, rushing over to pat his first mate on the back. "Well, that's all right, little buddy! Nothing much happened, so there's nothing much to remember! Ha ha ha!" He laughed so heartily that he forgot to keep the cutlass hidden behind him.

"Hey, Skipper. What've you got there?"

The Skipper gulped in dismay and hid it again. Mentally kicking himself, he tried to bluster. "Oh, this old thing? It's nothing, Gilligan, never mind."

"Doesn't look like nothing. Can I see it?"

"Gilligan, I told you, it's just a piece of junk--"

"Then why can't I see it?"

"Gilligan, I said never mind, and that's an order!"

The girls and the Professor looked at each other in consternation. They knew how determined Gilligan could be when he became curious. "Skipper - maybe you'd better just show him. I'm sure it will be all right."

The Skipper hesitated. "Well...I...okay, Professor." Slowly he drew out the cutlass, like a naughty schoolboy caught with a slingshot.

Gilligan leaned in for a closer look. They all held their breath - but no explosion came. "Hmmm," the young sailor remarked, with mild interest. "Looks like a sword. Where'd you find that, Skipper?"

The Skipper cast desperate looks at his fellow castaways, who all thought wildly. Inspiration suddenly struck Ginger.

"Ah...it's a movie prop, Gilligan. It was in one those crates of silent movie equipment we found."

The Skipper threw Ginger a look of adoration, then nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Ha ha! I forgot we had it!"

Gilligan examined the hilt and the skull and crossbones. "Gee, I guess they must have used this in a pirate movie. Neat."

Everyone looked at each other in wonder at Gilligan's offhand reaction. "Yeah, I guess so," said the Skipper. "Well, I'll just go put this away--"

"Oh, hang on, Skipper." Gilligan hadn't let go of the cutlass yet. "I'd kinda like to have it."

Once again the worried look went 'round the group. "Gilligan, what possible use could you have for such a thing?" asked the Professor.

"Oh, it'd be real handy in a lot of my chores. And in my spare time I like to whittle and play mumbly-peg. I could even use it to make sand castles!"

This brought a general chuckle, and the Skipper finally relaxed. "Well, okay, little buddy. Here you are."

He handed it over to Gilligan, who simply took it, smiled, and let it hang by his side. "Wow, the table sure looks nice. What's for lunch, girls?"

Before they could answer, the Skipper put his hands on Gilligan's shoulders. "Here, little buddy, you go put that away and wash up, and when you come back, the girls'll have lunch all ready for us."

"Oh. Okay, Skipper." Gilligan ambled off and disappeared into their hut.

As soon as he was gone they all rushed over to the Professor, the Skipper seizing the Professor's arm and shaking it. "Oh, Professor," he enthused, trying hard to keep his voice at a whisper, "you're a genius! I think Gilligan's back on an even keel! He saw the skull and crossbones and didn't even bat an eyelash!"

The Professor laughed. "Well, I can't take all the credit, Skipper. Gilligan is a very easy subject to hypnotize!"

"Oh, Professor, don't be so modest! You're one in a million!" Ginger purred.

"That's right!" said Mary Ann. "Oh, Skipper! He's completely cured!"

The Professor nodded. "Now, as long as we all adhere to the sunstroke explanation and don't remind Gilligan of his traumatic experiences, he should experience a full recovery."

"Oh! Then I'd better go let the Howells in on this," said Mary Ann, hurrying off.

The Skipper waved after her. "Thanks, Mary Ann. Gosh, it's great to see Gilligan back to his old self again!"