GOODBYE, OLD PAINT

He couldn't feel his arms. It was only through his will and his love of pleasing his Skipper that he managed to get to the table for dinner. It had been a long day, painting for five hours straight on four huts. It wouldn't have been so bad, if the Howells not had such a huge hut, but as soon as he finished one hut, he wasn't able to sit more than a full five minutes before he heard, "back to work."

"Oh, Gilligan, you look awful" Mary Ann, cried, the first, as always, to sympathize with him. She was now sitting beside him, stroking his sweaty forehead.

"Hi... Mary Ann" Gilligan choked out the words.

"Here Gilligan - you almost missed dinner. I did save you some fish though," Ginger said softly, walking over to the two with a plate of fish and berries.

Gilligan groaned as he forced himself to sit up straight.

"Oh, here Gilligan, we'll feed you," Mary Ann suggested, picking up the utensils and quickly cutting the fish into small, easy to chew bites.

Ginger let Mary Ann do the feeding. She stood and went behind Gilligan and began to gently massage his shoulders and arms. Gilligan groaned.

"Am I hurting you?" Ginger asked. She stopped quickly and sat down on the other side of him to look at his face.

Gilligan smiled at her. "No Ginger. I'm just sore, Skipper had me paint all the huts," he explained, after swallowing his food.

"Why?" both asked simultaneously.

"Because I messed up the rescue. Dubov's not coming back, and no one knows we're here," he went on.

It had become a thing on the island, Gilligan's homesickness and the Skipper's hunger for something that didn't come from the water.

"It's not your fault, Gilligan. It was Mr. Howell's idea. He should have helped paint," Mary Ann declared. It was starting to get on her nerves how everyone treated the first mate. Admittedly, she got annoyed with Gilligan when he would walk into her clothesline and dirty her clean laundry, but since he had disappeared that one time, she felt very close to him.

"Good work, little buddy. That junk the Professor made should keep the huts watertight. I told you I'd take care of it, ladies," Skipper said, coming by. He noticed Gilligan's exhaustion and the girl's nasty looks directed toward him and his smile dropped.

"You should have helped him, you big… bully," Mary Ann said.

"Wow, Mary Ann, good insult! How long did it take you to think of it?" Ginger asked sarcastically, and the brunette stuck her tongue out at the pretty redhead.

"I'm sorry, Gilligan, I did tell you to take it slowly," Skipper said, with a straight face.

Gilligan rolled his eyes, hoping the girls didn't fall for his lies. "Yeah, I know, big buddy, I wanted to get it done, just for you... Sir," Gilligan said, choking on the 'Sir.' "Thanks, girls, for dinner. It was great, as always," he said much more politely to the women. Standing up, he immediately fainted.

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann was beside him in less than a second and lifted his head into her lap.

"I better take him to bed - excuse me, ladies," Skipper said quickly and lifted Gilligan into his arms - eager to escape the girl's glares.

XXX
When Gilligan awoke a few hours later, the Skipper was already asleep in his hammock and snoring. He sat up, feeling a little better, and a small package wrapped in seaweed fell off his stomach and into the hammock.

It was a small plaque, like the ones he had made on Christmas for the castaways. 'To the best little buddy, I'm sorry.' was all it said, but it made Gilligan grin. He got up to get his diary and found a second surprise. A full page was filled in. It was a heartfelt letter of apology that made Gilligan's grin ten feet wide. He felt as though his cheeks were going to burst.

Dear Diary,

Anothr visater coms and goes. Dubov was interistin. He felt worthless. Must be the iland, she got powers. I fond my talint. Im a gode painter. So gode I paintd all the huts - I do anythin for the Skipper.

Gilligan