Gilligan's File

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,/
/The tale of a fateful trip/
/That started from apartment 42/
/Just listen to me quip/
/The mate was a mighty FBI man/
/The skipper bald and sure/
/The agents went to work that day for a three-hour bore/
/A three-hour bore
/Mulder started getting tired/
/His consciousness was tossed/
/If not for the courage of agent Scully/
/The x-files would be lost/
/The x-files would be lost/
/Mulder slipped and ran aground upon the shore of this/
/Uncharted desert isle/
/With Gilligan, the Skipper too/
/The millionaire, and his wife/
/The movie star, and the professor and Mary Ann/
/Are here on Gilligan's File/
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It all started on one boring Monday morning in the J. Edgar Hoover building,
also known as the FBI headquarters.
I, Special agent Fox Mulder, sighed as I rubbed my forehead, wishing for
coffee through an IV drip. Special Agent Dana Scully sat next to me, idly
pretending to listen to the board directors that spoke so sternly.
We were in the doghouse again; this time we had wasted the Bureau's money on
a wild goose chase (My idea), and now Assistant Director Walter Skinner was
there to bail us out, with bells on of course.
I looked at my watch and clenched my jaw like a vice when I realized that
only five grueling minutes had passed since this damn meeting started. 175
minutes to go. I sneaked a look at Scully discretely, catching her eye. I
rolled my own eyes dramatically, and was quickly silenced by one of Scully's
"no nonsense" looks that would stop a rabid bull in his tracks. If looks
could kill, Scully's arched eyebrow was a razor sharp dagger.
Dejected, I looked down at my clasped hands, watching my thumbs move
hypnotically as I twiddled them. Over, under, over, under, I was mesmerized.
My eyelids felt heavy, I really had to struggle to keep them open. Of course
I knew that I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night, watching that four
hour marathon of "Gilligan's Island", but I just couldn't help it. It *was* a
funny show, and with a little imagination and a lot of ingenuity, Ginger
could have easily passed for Scully. The thought of straight laced Dana in an
itsy bitsy, teensy weensy, yellow polka dot bikini sent chills up my spine.
Yikes, that got little Mulder's attention. Man, it doesn't take much when I'm
thinking of her...
But now was not the time to have unprofessional thoughts about my partner,
especially since she was sitting about six inches away from me. I had to
think of something else, something completely non-sexual; autopsies, mothmen,
flukemen, giant carnivorous fungus, Jesus, this isn't working. Wait, I've got
it...Frohike naked! There, that did it. Little Mulder dropped like a fly. I
can always count on the Gunmen in a jam. Or when I want to get jammed, that
is.
I wonder how much time that killed? What are these goons talking about
anyway? Shit, did my watch stop?
My eyes began to droop again, I could feel myself slipping. I sang the theme
song for "Gilligan's Island" in my head as a means to stay awake. Still not
paying attention. La, la, la, la, la...
"Agent Mulder!"
Shit.
"Agent Mulder, would you care to inform me how you wasted 537 dollars and 63
cents on *wall paper paste*?!?!"
"Well, you see sir..."
And this is where my impeccable knack for bullshitting comes in handy. I
manage to spit out about five breaths worth of conversation in a single
breath, leaving my audience stupefied. Mix that ability with some big,
multi-syllabled words and some notions about cow flatulence and you can be
pretty damn sure that no one will be asking me any more questions any time
soon. Except Scully. That routine doesn't seem to throw her. Go figure.
I ended my schpeele when I was sure that the board was thoroughly confused,
passing the ball to Scully. They wouldn't get mad at her, she's not a
notorious asshole trouble maker, like me.
Now that I was out of the red, I decided to take a brief nap, just enough to
refresh. The effort it took to pull that excuse out of my ass was
excruciating, and I felt like I deserved a little down time. I crooked my
head so that it looked like I was reading my file and let my eyes drift shut.
Sweet darkness erased the cruel faces of the bored and left me feeling dizzy
with exhaustion. As I slipped further into my snooze I could still hear that
damn theme song, a lack luster lullaby. Oh well. I hope I don't snore.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I woke up to the sound of large, colorful and extremely pissed off parrot
that was perched directly over my head. With a flip of it's tail, a slimy
white glob of bird shit came flying at my face. I rolled to the right,
narrowly escaping. Now, out of danger, things were starting to get a little
confusing.
First of all, what in the HELL was I doing in the tropics? I was covered in
sand, hot and surrounded by huge, green leafy plants. Jungle noise rang loud
in my ears.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling a head ache coming on. I pulled
myself into a sitting position, moving my fingers from my nose to my temples.
What the hell is going on?
Suddenly I was aware of footsteps coming close. I rose quickly to my feet,
facing the direction of the steps. From out of the brush appeared something I
never, In my life, expected to see.
It was Scully, but not just Scully. It was my fantasy Scully, clad in a beige
string bikini and a string of pearls around her neck. Her makeup was bold and
deliberate, and her hair styled in systematic ringlets around her face. She
was beautiful. And then she spoke.
"Mary Ann! I found him, over here!"
I didn't know who Mary Ann was, and I really didn't care. All I could focus
on was Scully's ass, I mean assets. I somehow managed to force my lolling
tongue back into my mouth, thus reestablishing my capability to speak.
"Scully, you, you look...nice. Where are we?"
Ok, so maybe I could only stammer, but that's a start, isn't it? Whatever I
said must have upset her, because she bit her full, succulent, cherry red
lower lip and looked over her shoulder fretfully.
"Mary Ann, hurry up, would you? I think he's delirious!"
"No, Scully, I'm fine! I was just-"
This is when I knew I definitely was NOT in Kansas any more, Toto. At this
point I knew something was fucky, because out of the brush emerged Phoebe
Green. My self proclaimed little hellcat who would either like to fuck me,
kill me, break my heart, or all three at once. She looked a lot different
from the last time I saw her; her hair was shoulder length and hung in loose
pigtails behind her ears, and she'd traded in her G-woman designer garb for a
pair of cut off daisy duke Jean shorts and a mid-drift baring, red checkered
tank top. The most distinct change, though, was the mysterious absence of her
British accent.
"What were you saying, Ginger? I couldn't hear you."
Ginger?
"I think Gilligan's got anesthetic, Mary Ann! He doesn't know who I am or
where we are!"
"You mean Amnesia?"
"Oh, whatever it's called, I don't know. What do you think I am, a doctor?"
I was definitely starting to get worried now. Scully was tag lig like a
valley girl bimbo, and why in the hell was Phoebe here? Then it hit me. They
had called me Gilligan. They were calling each other Ginger and Mary Ann. I'd
either passed through the Bermuda Triangle again or I was dreaming. I tried
to remember what happened before I woke up in the jungle.
"Lets take him to the Skipper, he's just behind t tre trees over there."
Before I could protest, the two women where on each of my arms, leading me
through the trees. How could I argue?
"Listen, girls, this is all a big mistake. I'm not Gilligan. I'm Mulder. I
must be dreaming or something."
"Lets hurry, Mary Ann. He's really starting to creep me out!"
The girls began moving faster despite my prote and and soon we reached a
clearing. Phoebe, or Mary Ann, I should say, called for the Skipper.
"Skipper, we found him! Skipper!"
The large, burly man who lumbered out of the thicket was none other than
Assistant Director Walter Skinner, wearing a blue polo shirt and a captain's
hat. He ran up to me and clamped his hands down on my shoulders.
"Are you all right, little buddy? You had us worried sick!"
Little buddy? Ok, this ends now. I brushed Skinner's hands off of me and
backed away from him and the girls, my hands raised in a 'back off' gesture.
" I don't know what's going on here, but I am NOT Gilligan. My name is Fox
Mulder, you're Dana Scully, you're Walter Skinner, and you're Phoebe Green."
They all exchanged worried glances, Skinner shifted nervously.
"You sure look like Gilligan, little buddy."
"Huh?" I looked down at my clothes for the first time. I was shocked to see
myself in a bright red sweater and starched white pants. I swallowed hard and
raised my left hand slowly to my head, coming in contact with what I knew was
a white fisherman's hat. Skinner looped his arm through mine and held me
firmly. I was too dumbfounded to care.
"Lets take him to the professor."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, hey! Get your hand's off me! Come on!"
The more I struggled and squirmed, the tighter they held on. They practically
dragged me to the professor's hut, our journey leaving odd tracks in the
sand. Scully, er, Ginger, opened the door while the Ski and and Mary Ann
carried me in. The professor stood with his back to us, flipping through what
appeared to be an encyclopedia.
"Professor? We found Gilligan."
The professor put down his book and turned around. To my suprise it was John
Byers. He looked rather in his element, surrounded by books, atlases and
other intellectual do-dads. He smiled and walked towards me.
"Gilligan, whatever happened to you? We were in a tizzy trying to find you!"
"Look, bucky, I don't know what's going on here, but I'm starting to get
REALLY pissed off-"
"Gilligan! Watch your language in front of the girls!"
I was damn mad now. Here I am, stranded in bum fEgypEgypt with a bunch of
people who look like people who they shouldn't look like and they think I'm
one of them!
"First of all, this is no girl!"
I grabbed Mary Ann, or Phoebe or whatever by the arm and pulled her forward.
Skinner pushed my off her and stepped between us.
"Little buddy, what's gotten into you?!"
"We think he has Amnesia, Professor. He's been acting this way ever since we
found him."
I was about to say something nasty when the door burst open. In walked a
dapperly dressed Frohike. Behind him followed Langly. Apparently the shocks
of the day were no where near over; Langly was wearing a frilly, puff sleeved
floral print dress, stockings, and black high heeled shoes. His thin lips
were stained pink, and his stringy blonde hair sat in a round bun on top of
his head. He still wore his coke bottle glasses.
"Here now, what's all the commotion!" Frohike spoke with a Vanderbelt accent.
"Gilligan's got Amnesia, Thurston." Skinner said cautiously.
"Amnesia, how dreadful! Is there anything we can do for the poor boy?"
"Oh, no, Eunice, it would be best if you and Thurston went back to your hut."
"I...DO NOT...HAVE AMNESIA!" Everyone grew quite as my voice boomed over
their chatter. "My name is Fox Mulder, I work for the FBI. So do you, and
you, and you. And you, *professor*, you hang out with these two schmucks,
calling yourselves the lone gunmen."
"Relax, little buddy..."
"We only want to help you, Gilligan."
"Come on, lovey, I won't be insulted by a madman!" Frohike took Langly's arm
and lead him out of the hut.
"Girls, you may want to leave as well. The only way to get Gilligan back to
normal is to hit him over the head, jogging his memory." The professor picked
up and ominous looking coconut from his desk and held it at my height, coming
closer to me.
"Hey, back off man..." I walked backwards until I was cornered by the
Skipper, who held me tight.
"Hold still, little buddy. This is going to hurt us more than it hurts
you..."
I was really starting to panic now, as Byers got closer and closer. And if I
didn't know any better, I could have sword I heard a laugh track playing in
the background. I twisted and thrashed in Skinner/Skipper's strong,
relentless grip, making no headway.
"Li, I', I'm *not* Gilligan! you've got to believe me!"
Byers was standing in range now. He raised the coconut high over my head and
took a deep breath. Somehow, some way, at this moment my bullshit gene
decided to kick in.
"Oh my gosh! Ginger's going down on Mary Ann!" I pointed out the window of
the Professor's hut. The Skipper's hold went lax as both men craned to see.
"What?"
"What?!?"
It was in this momentary lapse of vigilance that I managed to slip out of the
Skipper's grasp and slink out of the hut. The girls, who in actuality sat in
the sand outside, were shocked to see me running like a bat out of hell into
the woods.
"Gilligan! Where are you going?"
I may have looked like a reject beach nerd, but I could still move like good
'ole Mulder. My strong, conditioned legs moved swiftly through the brush, up
and over raised tree roots, rocks, I wasn't really paying attention. I
stopped when I couldn't hear their voices anymore, desperate for a full
intake of breath. I bent at my waist and clutched my knees, feeling my lungs
expand and retract as my heart rate declined. It was then that I realized
that I alonalone, lost in a place where I didn't know my ass from my elbow. I
stood erect, observing my surroundings. I turned in a circle.
Tree...rock...another tree...a big ass mushroom...yet another tree...a funny
looking man in a loin cloth holding a spear...tree...A FUNNY LOOKING MAN IN A
LOIN CLOTH HOLDING A SPEAR?!?!
Shit. This just gets better and better...