A Wish

"Gilligan! Oh, my buddy!" Skipper shouted as he saw Gilligan fall backwards over the edge of the cliff. He ran over to where Gilligan had been standing, where Gilligan had saved his life. When he looked down, he saw his friend lying in an awkward position on the sandy beach bellow, unmoving."Gilligan, little buddy!"

There was no reply, and Gilligan did not stir.

"Vell, vhat is one day, more or less?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned to see a spitting image of Gilligan, standing with the knife on his shining gold pocket knife turned out and facing him.

"Why did you want to shoot Gilligan?" Skipper asked, his sorrow changing to pure rage, and he balled up his fist like he was ready for a fight.

"I vas trying to stun you, but he pushed you out of the vay," the man explained. "It is as simple as that."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"You can call me Agent 222, or just 222," he said with a grin, one that made even Skipper shudder.

Skipper quickly got over it, looking as though he were about to throw a punch at the spy, and yelled, "Why I oughtta-"

"I vould not do that if I vere you, Skipper," 222 interrupted, holding up his free hand. "You see, this simple looking knife is a death ray. I could kill you vith the touch of a button!"

"I'd like to see you try!" Skipper threatened.

Agent 222 sighed and shook his head. "It is not as simple as that, Skipper. You see, I vas ordered to take Gilligan's place, but he escaped earlier than I had expected. If I encased him in a brick wall, he vould find a vay out!"

"Well, then why are you capturing everyone?"

222 didn't answer; he just stood and kept Skipper's gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I have orders," he said finally.

"Orders?!" Skipper exclaimed. "Is that your excuse for taking another man's life?" Suddenly, reality hit him like a crack in the jaw. "Gilligan!" he cried suddenly, running back over to the edge. "Gilligan!" he called once more, but there was still no reaction. "I've got to get a vine or something..." he murmured, but 222 overheard.

Instead of stopping him, he smiled as he watched the man scurry around, looking for the longest vine he could find. "Excuse me," he called, making the Skipper pause. "How do you expect to attach Gilligan to that vine?"

"I was going to lower myself down, get Gilligan, then raise myself up," Skipper explained.

"Oh, vell, how do you intend to do that vhen there is no one around to help you?"

When the Skipper didn't reply, the spy chuckled. "I thought as much," he said. "Vould you please come vith me?" he asked.

"No!" Skipper exclaimed, crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving until I get my little buddy up from down there."

"You do not have a choice."

"You asked."

"But I did not mean for you to take it as a qvestion, so come vith me!" 222 pointed his death ray right at the Skipper's heart. "You know vhere that big cave is, da? The one that is big enough for-"

"Yeah, I know that cave," Skipper interrupted, answering before he could finish. "It's that one that's carved into this very cliff."

"Vell, lead the vay!" the agent shouted, gesturing into the jungle.

Sighing, the Skipper looked one more time back to where Gilligan had once stood, but he knew there was nothing he could do. A single tear slid down his cheek, before he turned and walked slowly into the forest, with 222 on his tail.


The moon was high in the sky, casting a very dim light into the cave where the captured castaways sat. Mary Ann was nervously biting her nails, Ginger was sulking in the back against the wall, and Mr. and Mrs. Howell sat beside each other, Mr. Howell's hand resting on Mrs. Howell's, as to comfort both of them.

"I hope the Skipper and Gilligan are okay," Mary Ann said softly.

"Skipper's got strength," Ginger began. "He could probably fight off that creepy agent and rescue us. Gilligan..." She trailed off, as if she couldn't come up with anything good about him.

"Gilligan couldn't find a white cue ball in an empty, black room!" Mr. Howell finished for her.

"Really, that boy is impossible," Mrs. Howell agreed.

"But he's the kindest, sweetest one on the island!" Mary Ann retorted. "I'm sure he could do something to get us out!"

"Thanks, Mary Poppins," Ginger countered sarcastically. "We take your kind words of wisdom at heart."

A rustling in the leaves caused the castaways to jump. They looked warily out of the grid to see Skipper, with 222 right behind him. They could tell by the woeful expression on Skipper's face that something horrible had happened.

Quick as a flash, 222 opened the door and Skipper obediently walked inside.

"Skipper, did you let yourself be captured?" Mary Ann asked, shocked. Skipper didn't reply.

"A certain...event occurred that made him give himself up," 222 answered for him. Skipper glared at him with pure hatred, and the spy slowly backed away from the bamboo bars. The acute whining sounded from his pocket knife. He rolled his eyes and turned his back to the castaways as he unfolded the spoon.

"Commandant, I have captured the Skipper," he reported, business like.

"Vhat of Gilligan?" the Commandant asked curiously.

"Uh..." The spy trailed off, thinking of a way to put what had happened earlier into words. "I vas going to stun the Skipper vith the mirror, but Gilligan pushed him out of the vay. He vas knocked unconscious and he fell off of the cliff side."

The Commandant paused. "Are you saying dat you have gotten rid of the head of their mission?"

"Da, Commandant," 222 replied wearily.

"Good!" the Commandant exclaimed. "Now you can complete de mission vithout any more interruptions. Interrogate de prisoners."

"Da, Commandant."

"I mean now."

"Da, Commandant!" the spy said, beginning to get annoyed.

"Oh, and by the way, we took avay twelve hours from your mission. You now have eighteen hours left."

"VHAT?!" 222 cried, astonished. "Vhy?"

"Because ve are giving you more of a challenge. So you better do-"

222 slammed the fork piece back into place, disengaging the audio. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, folding the rest of the pocket knife together before slipping it back into his pocket. He returned to the prison door, and looked through the bars at the castaways.

"Okay," he began, "I am going to ask you all a question, and I vant a straight answer. Vhat is your mission here on the island?"

"We have no mission!" Skipper fumed.

"We're shipwrecked," added Mary Ann.

"Yeah!" the Professor and Ginger cried in unison.

222 glared at all of them, attempting to seem commanding. Failing, he asked, "Do you think a few more hours in this cell vill help you to remember?"

"Are you accusing us of lying?!" Mr. Howell asked in disbelief. "A Howell, lie? I'll have you know, Lovey and I are far too rich!"

"To lie?" asked 222, confused for the moment.

"No! How else do you think I made it up the corporate ladder? I mean to be accused!"

"There, there, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, comforting her distraught husband. "Not everyone can have a Harvard education!"

"I vill return shortly!" 222 exclaimed before spinning around and running into the jungle. Upon seeing this, Skipper's eyes began to water.

"Gilligan used to do the same thing..." he whispered, barely able to speak.

Curious as to what would make Skipper cry, Mary Ann asked, "What's wrong, Skipper?"

"Gilligan used to do that spin and run!" he cried, and he didn't even care when hot tears began streaming down his cheeks.

"Good heavens!" Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Whatever is wrong, captain?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Gilligan pushed me out of the way of some weird beam that came from that mirror! He got hit by it, and he fell off the cliff! He's dead!" Skipper snapped, devastated.

Mary Ann broke out into sobs and ran to the back of the cave, while tears ran down Ginger's face. Mrs. Howell began sniffing and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a handkerchief; she dabbed at her eyes, trying to hold back the surge of emotions she was feeling. Mr. Howell looked as if he were about to cry as well. The Professor bowed his head, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"My little buddy is dead," Skipper cried, "and that spy killed him! No more fishing, no more exploring, no more talks at night, no more silly questions and ridiculous answers. Gilligan won't be able to get rescued, because 222 came here. Gilligan risked his life to save me, and I couldn't do anything about it! It's all my fault! Why couldn't it have been me?"

"Oh, don't b-blame yourself, S-Skipper," Mary Ann said between sobs. "It's that stupid agent's fault!"

"He was like a son to me!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed tearfully.

"He was like a son to both of us, dear," Mr. Howell said, putting a comforting arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Gilligan was like the younger brother I never had," Ginger added.

"I, too, feel like I have lost a brother," the Professor agreed solemnly.

Skipper walked over to the bamboo bars and gazed out at the night sky. Gilligan, please tell me that this is all a horrible, horrible nightmare. I wish you would come back, safe and sound.


Gilligan's eyes flickered open, and at first all he saw was the black night sky, filled with white, twinkling dots that seemed to smile down at him. Soon, he became aware of more of his surroundings; the rock face that towered above him, the salty waves lapping hungrily at his feet, but most of all, his body aching all over. He stung where there were small cuts and scrapes. When he tried to sit up, he felt a searing pain in his back that slowly dissipated as he remained in that position. The boy found that, every time he tried to move, his body would tense up, and he wouldn't be able to move again for a few moments.

By the time he was able to move around, the sun had begun to peek up from over the horizon, turning the sky into a brilliant combination of yellow, orange, and blue, reflecting itself in the sapphire waters of the sea.

Gilligan tried to stand up, but he soon regretted it, letting out a yelp of pain as he fell back into the sand. It seemed like an eternity before the pain stopped, and Gilligan attempted to stand again, this time putting less weight on his right leg. It didn't hurt as much, so he began to limp over to the solid cliff wall. Putting his hand on the rock for balance, Gilligan continued along the side.

By now the sun had risen to where the bottom tip barely touched the ocean, and soon Gilligan reached a place where the rock suddenly stopped, turning a corner, giving way to the jungle beyond. Keeping along the side, the first mate limped faster, leaning on the rock for support when needed.

Finally, Gilligan heard voices. His eyes lit up as he raced forward, entering a small clearing. There he saw his friends, all behind a bamboo grid, all with miserable looks on their faces. He walked forward a bit more.

Everyone in the cave still mourned their dearly departed Gilligan. Skipper looked up, his sad expression turning into one of utter shock. The castaways could have jumped for joy when they heard a cheerful voice call out, "Hi, guys!"