The Berry

Fast as she could, Mary Ann hiked on through the vegetation. I must have imagined it, she kept reassuring herself. Why would Gilligan talk into a spoon? She shook off the memory and continued her trek.

She soon came to a spot where bushes of bright blue berries grew. Bugs swarmed around her, but they were no larger than the tip of a ballpoint pen. Forgetting about the insects, Mary Ann excitedly grabbed at the berries placing them neatly in her empty basket.

It wasn't until she had completed her task that she realized how many of the tiny pests were flying around her. She let out a squeal and began frantically hitting at the air as she fled into the bushes, basket around her arm. Strangely, the bugs did not bother the basket full of berries. Instead, they flew around it as if it were not there.

The next thing Mary Ann knew, she was soaking wet and in the lagoon. The swarm, to the farm girl's surprise, seemed to go over the lagoon and onto the land across from her. The berries were still on the shore, the basket having slipped off her arm during the drop. She sighed in relief as she stood up. The water only came up to her knees, and she easily waded to shore. Grabbing the basket, Mary Ann strolled down the path toward camp.


The Professor sat alone on the bench at the communal table. Hammering noises came from the Skipper's hut as he set the hammocks back up after Gilligan's incident earlier, and he didn't hear Mary Ann's light footsteps on the other side of camp.

"Oh, Professor!" the young girl called when she saw him, making him jump out of his seat. She giggled at him as the Professor tried to look casual.

"Mary Ann!" the scientist exclaimed. "That is the fastest berry picking I've ever seen!"

"Yep!" the farm girl said with a smile. "I went even faster because of all those bugs!"

"Oh, yes," the Professor responded guiltily. "I made you a repellent, but you left before I could give it to you." He reached over to take the basket, to find that Mary Ann was soaked. "How did you get wet?"

"I fell into the lagoon while trying to escape the bugs," she explained casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

The Professor let out an "Ah" of realization. "Mary Ann, do you know how to make blueberry pie?"

The farm girl smiled. "Of course, Professor! My specialty back in Kansas. Why do you ask?"

Gesturing to the berries, he asked, "Do you notice how much these look like blueberries?"

Mary Ann's eyes widened in realization. "Why, no, I didn't! I was too busy trying to get away from those pesky little insects to notice!"

"Well," the Professor started, his face expressionless, "I have found that these berries have the same look and taste of blueberries. Do you remember that day a few months ago where I only told the truth? That is what this berry is used for. If you were to bake it into a pie and give it to Gilligan-"

"He would eat it and tell us what's bothering him with no problem!" Mary Ann interrupted excitedly. "That's brilliant, Professor! I'll get started right away!"


Gilligan awoke with a start. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cave, he realized the vines on his wrists didn't feel right. He gave a tug, and gasped when his arms came flying out from behind his back, both free of the makeshift ropes. Quick as a flash, Gilligan untied his gag and the vines on his ankles.

"I better get back to camp!" he told himself, relieved at the sound of his voice. The first mate got on his knees and squeezed out of the cave. As soon as he was out, he sped off into the jungle.


"I'm telling you, Lovey, this plan is foolproof!" Mr. Howell whined, waving a huge wad of cash in the air. He and his wife were standing in their luxurious hut. Two beds sat side by side on one wall, and on the other a mirror stood beside a bamboo closet.

"But Thurston!" Mrs. Howell protested, ignoring his childlike tone. "The Professor said-"

"I don't care what the Professor said! Money is the answer to everything!" the millionaire cried, stamping his feet.

"Thurston, darling, we don't even know what the Professor's plan is!"

Thurston Howell III paused for a moment, counting the stack of bills in his hand. "Alright, Lovey, but if his plan fails I am going to try mine!"

"That's right, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said soothingly. "Now you just go out there and ask the Professor like the big, strong man you are."

Mr. Howell didn't realize how exaggerated this was, and struck a pose before turning and marching out the door.


222 stood in front of his cave, mouth agape, shocked at what he had seen inside. The blue scarf was there, the vines were there, but Gilligan was not! How he escaped again was unfathomable to the agent, and as he stumbled through the jungle, he knew that he was going to be caught.

It didn't occur to him until he reached the spot where Gilligan had found him the day before, that if he went back to camp, the others would see him and the real Gilligan together.

"Vhat am I going to do now?" he asked himself. That's when he heard her call. The spy turned to see Ginger farther into the tropic forest, waving at him. When she began to run toward him, he closed his eyes and turned his head, attempting to act like Gilligan.

"Gilligan, we've been looking all over for you," she said breathlessly, putting her arms around his neck in a light embrace. "We're all worried about you. Don't you know how much I care for you?"

"N-no, G-G-Ginger," 222 stammered, trying to keep his focus on acting like Gilligan, not the beautiful movie star in front of him. "I-I didn't realize t-that you l-liked me this much."

"Oh, Gilligan," Ginger began seductively. "I do. I do care for you, so! Do you know what I've always wanted?"

"W-what?" the agent asked, nervous. He almost couldn't fight the urge to throw away his Gilligan act and thrust his arms around her.

"Moonlit nights," she told him, "with you. Walks along the beach in that pretty little cove at sunset. Kisses..." Her voice trailed off as she leaned in and her lips met with his. After years on the island with Gilligan, Ginger was planning on him jerking away, but instead, to her surprise, he kissed back! It was bold and forceful, and Ginger was the one who pulled away.

"So, uh," Ginger tried to keep her breathy air, but couldn't hide the fear that tinged her voice. "Gilligan, will you tell me what's wrong? Will you tell Ginger?"

"Oh, my love!" 222 cried suddenly, throwing his arms around her and kissing her as she tried to struggle. "I have loved you ever since my sight first met with your beautiful sapphire eyes! I'll give you moonlit nights, and walks along the beach" As she broke away, he grabbed her arm and started kissing her smooth, pale skin. "I'll give in to your heart's desires! Then, we'll talk!"

Ginger moved her arm in a circular motion, forcing the spy to let go. "I-I just remembered!" she exclaimed, improvising. "I left some... Fish roasting! I've got to go!"

She fled into the jungle, with 222 attempting to grab her one last time before letting out a troubled sigh. "I do not understand!" he wailed, just as the whine of his pocket knife sounded.

"I do not understand, Commandant!" he cried wearily. "Romance alvays vorked on all my other missions!"

"Dat is because dese are Americans!" the Commandant growled. "You tried romance last time you vere on dis mission, and you got de same result, no?"

"Da, Commandant," the agent replied sadly. "I just thought that it vould vork this time, and, anyvay- she came to me!"

"I heard," the Commandant began. "But you vere not supposed to give in to her! Go and get de information, if you have not already!"

"Da, Commandant." 222 saluted the air before folding up his pocket knife. "But vithout the mirror," he added to himself, "I do not know how I am going to vin."

Shoving the knife into his back pocket, the agent walked down the path toward camp. Knowing Gilligan, he probably vent the vrong vay, 222 thought as he pushed away the plants and made his way through the foliage.


Gilligan continued his run through the jungle. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, but his speed never wavered. It wasn't until he heard the voices of his friends did he come to a stop.

The first mate took in big gulps of air, but his mouth was spread into a big, toothy grin. I made it to camp! he thought. He slowly walked into camp, still gasping for air, though his fellow castaways couldn't hear him.

Ginger stood with the Professor, crying and telling him something- Gilligan couldn't hear what she was saying, but she sounded upset. They were beside the communal table, Mary Ann sat in one of the benches holding what looked to be blueberry pie, and the Skipper hovered around the Professor and Ginger, offering whatever comfort he could to the woeful movie star.

Gilligan stumbled over until the Skipper saw him.

"Gilligan!" he called, though his tone gave away no emotions. Gilligan smiled at him, but he didn't get two feet before he collapsed in the sand.