Gilligan sits on the beach, staring as always at the empty horizon.
He gnaws the last few pieces of meat from the Skipper’s thigh bone, then tosses it into the pile where it lands beside Mr. Howell’s skull.
Or was it Mrs. Howell’s? It’s so hard to tell them apart anymore.
He begins to drop the Skipper’s hat into the fire, but stops before letting go. He grins, uses the hat to whack himself in the head, then tosses it into the flames.
Good times.
3 comments:
Whacking himself in the head with the hat was terrible and great. Still the same old Gilligan, just a new diet.
You see, this is exactly the type of thing that makes me glad I'm vegetarian! Poor shipmates! If only they'd gotten rescued when the Harlem Globetrotters had shown up...
Nicely done!
Now that's more like it! Great job.
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