"The Isle..."

"The Isle..." Part IV...

"The Isle..."

PG 13

Summary: What "Riverdale" did to "Archie and Jughead" and "Betty and Veronica", I'm doin' to "Gilligan's Isle" ...

Disclaimer: All characters of Gilligan's Isle remain property of that series...Any resemblance of fictional characters to those living or dead is purely coincidental...

Part IV...

"So you see..." Mary Wholesomeby was going on to an ever more annoyed Ginger as they walked down the strip of beach... "If the liberals had just been kept from socialistically regulating industry our radio transmitter would have all-American made parts instead of some made by Communists, designed to fail when Americans need them... It's really all the fault of that radical President..."

"Obama's to blame for us being stranded here, eh?"

"Oh, no...President Lincoln, who was part black you know? That's why he freed the slaves who were all so happy as slaves where they belonged and then he invaded the South...If he hadn't been allowed to be President, the slaves would have stayed slaves and that...#$(*! Kenyan Muslim nig.."

"Enough!" Ginger cried. "Don't make me have to hit you with a rock!"

"I'm just explaining why we're having such troubles, Miss Grant." sigh. "You need to find a good man who'll tell you what to think and give you a baby to take care of..."

"One more word and I'll gut you with a seashell, girl!" Ginger glared. "Jesus, where do freaks like you come from?"

"Kansas..." Mary noted. "And please don't use the Lord's...No!" she ran as Ginger grabbed the nearest seashell, chasing her...

"Oh...Hey..." Steve pointed from where he stood with Karen, balanced on respective good legs, Gilligan beside them at the edge of the woods bordering on the beach, about 200 yards from where Mary was desperately running from a furious Ginger...

"More people!" he noted happily. "Are they yours or ours? Karen?"

"How should I know? I never met half our planeload..." she peered at the running girls...

Oh, Lord...

Ginger Grant...

Frown...

....

"So, no luck?" the Skipper eyed the Professor as he sat back from the opened chassis of the radio transmitter.

"No. I'm afraid it's useless, Skipper." the Professor sighed. "We just don't have the parts to fix it and I can't jury-rig replacements."

Good...I mean...Oh, too bad...The Skipper thought.

I was afraid I might have to toss the thing overboard and claim an animal had taken it...

Loud snores from below...They eyed each other as Mrs. Crumpt emerged from the stairway down.

"He's sleeping?" the Skipper asked, kindly. "Probably the best for him...I'm sure the strain has been hard on him."

"I gave him ten adderals...He'll be out for hours." she sighed, moving to take seat.

"Isn't that dangerous...Adderal is a mix of amphetamine and dextroamphetamine for treating attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and narcolepsy..." the Professor stared.

"And he uses it to get going for sex..." she shrugged. "But it's the only thing puts him out now, he's so addicted."

"Well, I'm sure he needs the rest..." the Skipper noted.

"From what?" Mrs. Crumpt asked. "Sorry...Made my bed, lie in it...My mantra. You guys heard nothing, right?"

"If you like..." the Professor agreed.

"Of course..." the Skipper noted.

"So...We are stuck here?" she asked, slight accent.

Please God...Never to return unless the dickhead dies...

And I could trade return for dickhead dies...

...

"Girls, hey!" Gilligan called, happily. "Found some other people here!" he waved.

Mary and Ginger halting in mid-stride...

Hmmn...Best to put aside differences and homicidal rage, Ginger thought, dropping her seashell fragment in the sand.

Oh, no...She peered at the figures.

It couldn't be...

It is...

"Come on..." she urged the wary Mary on.

"I'm sorry to have scared you, but when I say shut up with me in future, you shut up." she noted.

"Yes, ma'am." Mary nodded.

Oh, for Gawd's sake...What a simp...Ginger sighed.

But...Fine...First lets try to deal with...

Karen...

"Are they really people?" Mary eyed the two.

"Maybe one is, the other's a demon from Hell."

"Oh...My..."

"No, you simp..." Ginger shook head. "I mean she's...Well, a bitch from Hell."

"Hey, come and meet the guys, guys...Gals..." Gilligan called.

"Hello..." Steve, staring... "Aren't you Ginger Grant?"

"And I'm Mary Wholesomeby..." Mary tried. "Praise God we've met..."

"Yeah, hi...Hello, Karen." Ginger, coldly.

Bitch who ruined my career...

"Grant." Karen, curtly.

Spoiled lil' whore who ruined my career...

Gilligan, Steve, Mary exchanging glances...

....

Meanwhile, on the far side of the Isle...A small black rubber dingy had made its way to the shore, carefully wending its way through shoals and reef without damage.

Its occupant, a tall, muscular figure in wet suit carefully stepped off and standing on the beach, peered about, having removed face mask. It quickly deflated the boat and folded it to an amazingly small size, packing it into a small backpack.

The figure removed wet suit, revealing an astoundingly handsome, curly-haired, bearded, adventurous-looking, even of heroic proportions, fellow in khaki shirt and shorts. Removing binoculars from his back pack he scanned the cliffs above...

Good...No sign of any human presence or detection of himself...

He removed a small device from his belt, rather like a cell phone, but far more complex...

"OO9 here M-6...Have landed safely." a rather suave British accent... "Repeat, have landed safely. Do you copy, over?"

"Roger, OO9, message received on encrypted frequency..." British accented reply. "Have you detected any presence or activity, over?"

"None as yet...Will commence surveillance. The volcanic crater is one mile from my landing point. The natives' village should be just a half mile, according to satellite surveillance. I'll report asap once I reach it, over."

"Roger...Received. Proceed with the mission. Good luck, OO9. And do be careful consorting with the native girls...Don't cause another incident, will you? Over."

"Absolutely...And certainly not...Over." the man replaced the communicator on his belt, smiling.

...