Gilligan's Island of Lust

The tour boat S.S. Minnow, captained by The Skipper with his first mate Gillian, left harbour carrying five passengers: Mr. and Mrs. Howell the millionaires, The Professor the scientist, Ginger the movie star, and Mary Ann the girl next door. It was to be a 3-hour tour aout of port. A terrific storm came up and blew them off-course and crashed them on a remote tropical island, wrecking the boat.

After collecting what could be salvaged from the wreckage on the beach, everyone gathered onshore.

The Skipper said, “I’m afraid we’re stranded here. The ship has a hole at the water line that can’t be repaired. We’ll have to remain here until we can get rescued.”

"But you said we'd only be gone three hours," Ginger protested, her perfectly manicured hands clutching her sequined purse. "I have an audition tomorrow morning!"

The Professor adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and surveyed the wreckage. "I'm afraid the radio transmitter was damaged in the crash. I might be able to repair it, but it will take time."

"Time? Time?" Mr. Howell sputtered, his ascot fluttering in the tropical breeze. "Do you know what time means to a man like me? Money! Every minute we're stuck on this godforsaken island is costing me thousands!"

Mrs. Howell patted her husband's arm. "Now, Thurston, dear. Getting upset won't help matters."

Mary Ann stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of her gingham blouse. "Well, standing around complaining won't help either. We need shelter and food. I grew up on a farm in Kansas—I know how to make do with what we have."

The Skipper nodded appreciatively at Mary Ann. He hadn't expected the farm girl to be the first to take charge. With his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of responsibility, he looked out at the dense jungle beyond the beach. Somewhere in there, they'd need to find fresh water and food to supplement what little they'd salvaged.

"The little lady's right," he said, straightening his captain's hat. "We need to organize. Professor, you and I will start making shelters. Mr. and Mrs. Howell, please look in the jungle for a water source. Mary Ann, Ginger, and Gillian go into the jungle looking for food.”

Gilligan's eyes widened. "Me? Go into the jungle?" His voice cracked as he clutched his red shirt. "But Skipper, what if there are wild animals in there? Or headhunters? Or wild animal headhunters?"

The Skipper sighed heavily, his patience wearing thin. "Gilligan, there aren't any headhunters on this island."

"How do you know? Have you been here before?" Gilligan's knees knocked together as he peered into the dense foliage beyond the beach.

"I think the likelihood of encountering hostile indigenous populations is quite minimal," the Professor interjected. "This island appears to be uninhabited, judging by the lack of visible smoke signals or settlements along the coastline."

Mary Ann stepped forward, her practical nature asserting itself. "Come on, Gilligan. I'll protect you." She winked at him with a warmth that made his cheeks flush nearly as red as his shirt.

Ginger tossed her fiery hair over her shoulder. "I once played a jungle explorer in 'Tarzan's ****.' The director said my berry-picking scene was the most authentic he'd ever filmed."

"Well, that settles it then," the Skipper declared, clapping his hands together. "Everyone has their assignments. We'll meet back here in two hours."

As the castaways dispersed, Gilligan lingered behind, picking up a long stick to use as protection.