Hunger Games Meet Gilligans Island
JUST FOR FUN…
The Professor hunkered down on the beach and dug in the sand with a stick. “Tick-tock, tick-tock . . .”
Placing a hand on her shapely hip, Ginger sighed. “He’s been repeating those silly words for days. What’s wrong with him?”
The Skipper had always admired the man’s genius. But now he struggled to understand the apparent clue the Professor had discovered that would surely help the seven of them get off this blasted island.
Pigtails bobbing, Mary Ann danced up to join them. “I baked a coconut cream pie. Do you think that will help the Professor out of his strange tick-tock trance?”
Drool trickled down the Skipper’s chin. If that dessert did not heal the Professor, the Skipper would not let it go to waste. “Mary Ann, how do you bake such scrumptious pies without an oven?”
“Oh, but she does have an oven.” Ginger sidled up and hooked her hand in the crook of his arm, her intimate presence almost as appealing as the coconut cream. “I helped her carry it from that giant horn-shaped cone. The one with a big tail.”
“Yes, the cornucopia.” Mary Ann nodded, eyes bright. “That happened at the same time Ginger found the wardrobe of glittery outfits that fit her perfectly.”
Removing his cap, the Skipper scratched his head. These women were remarkably resourceful. They must be allies. He’d have to watch his back lest they joined forces in an attack against the menfolk.
The ground shuddered and then shook violently. Falling hard onto the sand, the Skipper watched the ocean spin as though the island was moving in a circle. Finally, all motion came to an abrupt halt. Frantic shouting airing from the jungle nudged him back onto his feet.
Mr. and Mrs. Howell ran toward them, their expressions panicked.
“Help! Help!” Mrs. Howell wiggled her gloved fingers in the air.
“Wait for me, Lov
ey.” Thurston snuggled his teddy bear under one arm and took his wife’s hand. “Skipper, he thinks we’re his enemy. I demand you do something! I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
Flames appeared in the distance, traveling fast across the beach.
The Skipper squinted at the odd spectacle. “Is that you, little buddy?”
“Ahoy Capitan!” Gilligan skipped and hopped, traveling like a gazelle. He wore a cape, ablaze and fluttering in the breeze behind him. In one hand was a homemade bow. In the other a crude yet dangerously sharp arrow.
Ginger leapt behind the Skipper, clinging to him with trembling hands. “He’s gone mad. Just like the Professor.”
“I’ve got this.” Mary Ann positioned herself between them and the approaching boy-on-fire. She raised the dessert.
Gilligan shot an arrow, and it pierced the pie tin, wounding no one.
“Coconut Cream Pie.” Skipper dipped his finger in and took a lick. “Our new emblem of hope.”
