The Agent Succeeds
Agent 222 grunted as he dragged Gilligan's limp, unconscious body across the ground to the small cave mouth behind him.
"He is heavier than he looks!" 222 commented in his deep voice.
By the time he had gotten the first mate into the cave and tied Gilligan's hands and feet together with vines, the boy had begun to awaken. 222 backed away as Gilligan shifted and groaned, lifting his tied hands to his head. His eyes shot open as he realized that his hands were lashed together. Taking in his surroundings- the soil walls of a cave- Gilligan let out a gasp.
"Where... am I?" he asked, not knowing that anyone else was there.
222 grinned evilly and said, "You are vith me, now!"
Gilligan's eyes widened and a look of sheer terror replaced his confusion.
"Please," the boy pleaded, "don't hurt my friends! Do anything you want with me, but please don't hurt my friends!"
The spy shook his head, though this gesture was barely visible in the dim light.
"I cannot make any promises, because my mission requires that I follow orders." 222's hand immediately shot out and covered his mouth, and he mentally cursed himself for letting part of his mission slip.
Gilligan stared blankly at him, as if unsure what to say. He looks like me, and my friends won't be able to tell the difference. The first mate felt hopeless.
"What is your mission?" he asked wearily.
"Vell, since you von't be able to tell anyone, and they vouldn't believe you if you could anyvay, I vill tell you." 222 grinned at Gilligan's helpless expression. Maybe I vill get that promotion, after all! "My mission is to-"
"GILLIGAN!" 222's explanation was cut short by Skipper's call. "Gilligan, little buddy!"
The first mate opened his mouth to call back, but 222 quickly cupped his hand over his mouth, making whatever he was going to say come out as 'hmmff'. The Russian spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a light blue scarf. Gilligan's eyes widened.
"Mmree Anm!" came the shocked reaction of the boy who was trapped by his double. 222 just nodded, unsure of what Gilligan had just said, but still trying to make his presence seem powerful.
"GILLIGAN!" the Skipper shouted again, this time closer. "Where are you, little buddy?"
Gilligan struggled to get away, but his attempts were futile. Agent 222 quickly removed Gilligan's white sailor's cap and tied the scarf around the first mate's head, turning it into a gag. He backed away as the boy struggled even more.
Gilligan's wrists and ankles burned where the vines were tied, and now the gag around his head dug into his skin. He stopped his struggle when he realized he wasn't going to get out anytime soon. The first mate watched as his hat was dropped to the ground at his feet. I hope the others will be okay.
222 looked down one more time at the boy's disheartened expression, then squeezed out through the small cave's opening. Once more, the espionage agent took a quick look at his surroundings. The sun had already begun to sink down, causing the blue tropical sky to adapt a beautiful mixture of yellow, pink, and purple. It must have taken longer than I thought to drag Gilligan into that cave, he thought.
"GIL-I-GAN!" Skipper's yell broke his thoughts. 222 quickly grabbed a few palm fronds to conceal the cave, then pulled out his pocket knife. He winced as the loud, high-pitched whining emanated from the golden object.
"Commandant, I have completed Phase Two," Agent 222 reported.
"Good," came the voice of the Commandant. "Now, vhen you imitate this Gilligan, do better dan last time."
"Da, Commandant." 222 quickly folded the knife up and placed it back in his pocket. His face adapted the boyish innocence of Gilligan, then he walked over to where the first mate had been collecting coconuts and sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He tried to look dazed, and wobbled back and forth.
Soon the Skipper spotted 222 on the ground.
"Gilligan, little buddy, we've been looking all over for you!" he exclaimed.
"Why? I was right here!" 222 was pleased to have come up with this, and got up very slowly, to make his performance more believable.
Skipper looked around at all the coconuts on the ground, then at the way his 'little buddy' was behaving.
"Are you alright, Gilligan?" he asked, putting hand on "Gilligan's" shoulder to steady the boy.
"I think I hit my head on... something..." 222's voice trailed off, as if he was having trouble remembering, but on the inside he felt as if he were going to burst out laughing at the man's ignorance.
"Oh, little buddy!" the Skipper exclaimed. "Are you okay?" His blue eyes were filled with concern.
"I think so, Skipper," 222 replied, staggering. The Skipper was being taken in by all of this, and he gently lifted 'Gilligan' up into his arms.
"I think you should rest, little buddy," Skipper told him as he carried 222 back to camp. "Everything will be alright."
222 kept up his act, and when Skipper walked into camp, the five other castaways gasped.
"Skipper, is the poor boy alright?" asked Mrs. Howell, a rich woman wearing a pearl necklace and a diamond bracelet. On her gloved finger was a rather large diamond ring, and diamond earrings dangled down from her ears. She wore a pink outfit and a blue hat covered her curled-up platinum blond hair. Her husband sat beside her, dressed just as smartly, but he didn't wear all of those trinkets. On his head, sat a tan hat, covering up his receding hair.
"Yes, Mrs. Howell," Skipper replied softly. "He just hit his head. I'm putting him in his hammock to rest."
Everyone at the communal table wearily went back to eating and conversing as Skipper disappeared into the hut he and Gilligan shared.
Gently, the Skipper lay 222 down in Gilligan's hammock.
"Skipper, can I ask you something?" 222 asked, still trying his best to imitate Gilligan's voice.
"Sure. What is it, Gilligan?" Skipper tried to talk softly, but it wasn't working out for him.
"Well, I've been thinking about life," 222 began, "and I was wondering, what is it that we're doing here?"
Skipper began to look concerned. "Well, you must have hit your head pretty hard to not know that we're shipwrecked!"
222 didn't say anything after that. He just closed his eyes and made soft snoring sounds. The Skipper assumed that he had fallen asleep, so his quietly walked out of the green hut. As soon as the Skipper left, 222 jumped out of the hammock, only to land on his back with a loud THUD!
He groaned and got up, rubbing his head. "I guess this is how the vuns who I imitate feel!" he exclaimed, now back to his normal voice.
Agent 222 didn't even look around. He just pulled out his pocket knife and unfolded it. As usually, the high-pitched whine filled the hut. 222 winced and hoped that the people outside hadn't heard.
"Commandant, you there?" the spy asked into the spoon.
"I am here," the Commandant purred.
"I am in the Skipper and Gilligan's hut. They believe I am their 'Little Buddy'." The Russian agent told the Commandant with a grin."I shall find the information soon. Their shipvrecked front is still going strong. I believe they are vorried that the island is under surveillance."
There was a long pause, then: "You must gain deir trust. You must get dem to tell you vhy dey are on dat forsaken island, and how long deir mission is."
"Da, Commandant," 222 said. "I vill not fail this time!"
No reply came.
"You still there?" 222 asked wearily.
He could hear the Commandant mutter something inaudible over the transmitter, but he was sure he heard the words "Should have" and "other spy".
"Remember, you now have only sixty two hours left in your mission." the Commandant boomed.
Angrily, 222 signed off and folded his pocket knife. He attempted to climb back into the hammock, but the death trap flipped him into the Skipper's hammock and on to the floor. Silently cursing, he tried once more, only to fall to the ground again.
After repeatedly trying to get into Gilligan's hammock, he finally made it. 222 slowly rocked back and forth.
I vill not fail, 222 repeated to himself, and soon he was rocked into a deep sleep.
At the communal table, the castaways sat three to a side. They had finished the meal that Mary Ann and Ginger had prepared and were talking in hushed voices.
"Professor, does Gilligan really think he saw someone who looked like him?" Ginger asked the man whose face was buried in a book labeled 'World of Facts'. He sat right across from her and beside Mary Ann.
"Yes," the scientist replied, closing the book. "Not only did he see a person who looks like he does, he also says he talked to him. He said that double had a strange accent, which I believe to be Russian."
"Good Heavens! Someone call Dr. Freud!" exclaimed Mr. Howell. "That boy needs help!"
"I'm afraid that I can't find any answers in this book!" the Professor cried. "That's the second one that I've skimmed every page for the solution to Gilligan's dilemma, but found nothing."
"It's okay, Professor," the Skipper told the disappointed scientist. "It isn't your fault that the morons who wrote those books never heard of hallucinations."
Mary Ann put her hand on the Professor's. "He's right, Professor! It's not like you're the cause for his hallucination!"
The Professor's eyes suddenly lit up. "That's it!" he murmured. "Skipper! Maybe you are the cause for Gilligan's hallucination!"
