I'm baaaaack! (With a story, too!)

[JWood201]

Hi gang! Most of you weren't here when I was active a few years ago, but I recently rediscovered these boards. I've been mostly writing in script form for the past 2 year or so (TV school, etc), so my prose skills aren't what they used to be.

I had this idea for a series of pre-islad oneshots, like how they all meet before the tour, if they met before the tour, what their lives were like, etc. So I started this one, but I don't really know what the point is, or if there is one, or how exactly to end it, but I'm working on it. I thought I'd post what I have to get some responses before I continue.

Please be kind, I'm loving all the stories here!

-------------

The young woman tried to cause as little ruckus as possible as she hauled her giant suitcase through the door of the hotel bar. The brilliant Hawaiian sky behind her disappeared as she submerged into the darker world of mood lighting and mediocre lounge acts. She fanned the smokey air from her face just as the corner of her suitcase caught one leg of a gold easel, sending the poster leaning atop it tumbling to the ground.

An older gentleman caught the poster, an advertisement for a nightclub singer that would be performing there that night, deftly in one hand before it hit the ground, not spilling a drop of his drink. “This dirty floor is no place for Miss Grant,” he commented as he set the portrait of a stunning redhead back atop the easel, brushing some nonexistant dust from her two-dimensional cleavage.

The younger woman rolled her eyes inwardly, but smiled for his benefit. “Of course not.”

“Do you need help with that?” he called as she continued past him, her suitcase banging chair legs and human legs as she went.

“I’m fine, thank you!” She waved over her head as she finally reached the bar. She hopped up on a stool next to a hunched skinny figure and pulled her suitcase in front of her to rest her swinging feet on. She proudly deposited her purse and straw hat on the bar and grinned at the curious bartender.

“I’m free,” she told him. “Two weeks. I won this trip on the radio and I intend to savor every minute of it. I’m free – no more corn, no more chickens, no more cow manure for two whole weeks. My aunt almost had a heart attack when I told her I was going to Hawaii by myself, but I told her to get over it because I’m a mature, grown-up, adult woman now.” She smacked her hand down on the bar for emphasis and the bartender smiled kindly.

“Well, then what’ll you have for your celebratory drink?”

“Shirley Temple, please. Extra cherries.” The bartender smiled as the figure on the stool next to her giggled. She shot it a look from the corner of her eye and then ignored it. “I’m nineteen,” she reluctantly confided in the bartender and he winked at her conspiratoraly before moving away to make her drink.

She pointedly ignored the young man next to her until the bartender brought her drink over, garnished with a little bright blue paper umbrella. “Confidentially speaking,” the bartender began, leaning on the bar toward her, “he’s having the same thing.”

The young man next to her sat up straight for the first time and gaped at the bartender. “Hey! You know I’m gonna be twenty-one in exactly one month, Steve! And I’m gonna come in that night and go crazy!” Before the young man sat an impressive Shirley Temple stacked exuberantly with extra-extra cherries and three umbrellas – blue, green, and yellow. “I might even have three Shirley Temples and a chocolate-covered hamburger!” His blue eyes dropped back to his drink as the bartender chuckled and wandered away.

She watched him concentrate on his drink for a moment before he lifted his head. Brown hair fell away from his eyes as he proudly producd a cherry stuck to the other end of his straw as if this were the greatest magic trick in the world. He peered sideways to see if the girl was watching him. She was, with raised eyebrows. Even she understood the rudimentary science behind his way of impressing the ladies. He smiled and the vacuum broke, sending the cherry back into his drink and some of his drink onto his red shirt.

She finally laughed and when he looked up from wiping off his shirt, her hand was extended to him. “Mary Ann Summers.”

“Petty Officer First Class William Gilligan,” he replied with what to him seemed a very gallant tip of his white sailor’s hat. "Retired."

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m just a first mate.”

“I meant that trick with the cherry.”

“Oh, yeah?” He visibly brightened. “My buddy Skinny Mulligan can tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. He’s real proud of that, but I think it’s kinda disgusting.”

--------------------

Most random place to stop ever! But I got tired. =\ Looking forward to being more active here! Thanks in advance for any feedback!

[AB]

Welcome Back & cute story btw!

[Marvo301]

First of all welcome back to the boards. I guess I just always assumed that these people met for the first time on the dock just before the ill fated 3 hour tour. It's fascinating to think they might have met earlier and under other circumstances. I like what you've done with the story so far and if you continue it I hope you'll post the continuation here.

[callensensei]

Wow! What a pleasure to stumble upon this gem!

It's hard to say what my favourite element of this intro is: certainly the evocative descriptions of touristy Hawaii and the precise attention to canonical detail (the characters' ages, Mary Ann's free trip, even Gilligan's status as "retired" from the Navy!) are a bonus. But the best part was the subtle introduction of the characters. You build them up, trait by trait, letting the reader figure out who they are.

And both our young castaways are very in character. Mary Ann is independent and spunky, and Gilligan shyly charming. Loved the Skinny Mulligan reference!

Do please carry on, and I hope you'll post this fic over at fanfiction.net too.

(Sorry for all the gushing, but I really liked this!)

[littlesoprano]

Wow, I'm loving this! Glad I decided to check the fanfic board. (: Everything is great, but the thing I really appreciate is Mary Ann's plucky and independent attitude/dialogue. This gets missed a LOT in fanfics, but you really captured it well. I also think it is appropriate that Ginger is performing in a rather mediocre venue, because I see her as more of a struggling B-movie actress than an actual "movie star."

Please continue soon! It'll be interesting to see if you can get the Professor and the Howells in a bar... (:

[JWood201]

Yay! Thanks so much everyone! I still have no idea what I'm doing with this. It's so hard to find more than a few minutes to sit down and actually concentrate on it. And I have no idea how this could end either, haha. But we'll see!

Thanks for the comments, I really appreciate them!

[JWood201]

More! So I think I know what's happening now. callensensei gave me a bunch of cool ideas for the end and I'm not sure which I'm gonna go with or if I'm going to make up a new one. So I'm gonna leave it here and leave you guessing until I make up my mind. Thanks for all the responses, gang!

------------

“Petty Officer First Class William Gilligan,” he replied with what to him seemed a very gallant tip of his white sailor’s hat. “Retired.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m just a first mate.”

“I meant that trick with the cherry.”

“Oh, yeah?” He visibly brightened. “My buddy Skinny Mulligan can tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. He’s real proud of that, but I think it’s kinda disgusting.”

“So, tell me William, why did you retire so young?” She frowned playfully. “Kicked out?”

The sailor shrugged and smiled down at the bar. “Nah. My commanding officer and I were honorably discharged after I saved his life.”

Mary Ann’s eyes widened. “Really?” she breathed. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Not really. I just kinda pushed him out of the way of this depth charge that got loose on the deck. He was real mad until he realized he was almost run over.”

“You’re a hero!” she decided, playfully punching him in the arm.

“No, I’m not.”

“Sure, you are! Steve!” Mary Ann beckoned the bartender over. “Did you know that William is a true-blue, bonafide Naval hero?”

“William?” Steve chuckled. “You mean Gilligan? This little rascal couldn’t punch a hole in the wind with a fistfull of hammers.” Steve good-naturedly whipped the bar towel at Gilligan and wandered over to a new customer that appeared at the opposite end of the bar.

Mary Ann watched him go with disbelief before turning on Gilligan. “You never told him the story?”

Gilligan shrugged. “It never came up. The Skipper’s my best friend, of course I pushed him out of the way. I’d push Steve. I’d push you. Well, you know what I mean.” Mary Ann was quiet for a long moment and when he finally looked up from his drink, Gilligan saw her smiling brilliantly at him. “What?”

“That’s real hero talk if I ever heard it.”

Gilligan shifted uncomfortably on his stool and blushed a little, pulling his hat further down over his red ears. “The Skipper and I give tours of the island on this charter boat now. You should come.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Yeah, come on the six o’clock tour tonight. The sunset’s real pretty from the deck.”

“Gilligan!” Gilligan and Mary Ann both jumped and looked towards the door where a large man stood, backlit by the sunlight. He crossed his arms impatiently.

“Uh oh. That’s the Skipper. I gotta go.” Gilligan hopped off his stool and shoved his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a five dollar bill and tossed it onto the bar. “Here. Pay for yours too. Come down to the dock before six o’clock, okay? Our boat’s the Minnow.”

Mary Ann slid off her bar stool, trying to keep up with his rapid fire instructions. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Gilligan gave her a lopsided smile. “Great. It was nice to meet you, Mary Ann.”

“You too.” She took his outstretched hand and held it for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“GILLIGAN!” They jumped apart and glanced at the captain in the doorway. He was squinting into the dark room as patrons near the door moved away from the bellowing sailor.

“I gotta go! Bye!” Gilligan held his hat to his head and raced for the door, deftly sidestepping between tables and leaping over bags.

--------------

“Gilligan! I said cast off!”

“What?” Gilligan turned from his examination of the dock.

“Cast off. We’re ready to leave.” Very calmly, the Skipper gestured grandly to the rope tied to the dock. Gilligan followed his gaze vacantly for a second before snapping to attention.

“But we can’t! My friend isn’t here yet!”

“And what is it this time, Little Buddy? Parrot? Monkey? Mermaid?”

“No, she’s a person.” Gilligan turned indignantly to study the dock once more.

“Captain!” one of the passengers summoned from the deck below. The Skipper peered over the side of the bridge to find Mr. Howell gesturing to him from the shadow of his wife’s parasol. “I say, Captain, shouldn’t we be shoving off about now? I thought you military types valued your precision? I’ve heard of late curtains at the theatre, but never aboard ship.”

“That’s very true, Thurston. When we saw Gianni Schicchi at the Metropolitan Opera it started a full ten minutes late! Disgraceful.”

“Quite right, Lovey. Quite right.” Mr. Howell pat his wife’s opera-gloved hand tenderly and turned to the Skipper again. “You heard the lady, Captain. Anchors away!”

The other male passenger looked up from the fat book he was studying. “It’s customary to begin a theatre performance at least five minutes late to account for stragglers and latecomers.” With that, he buried his nose once again in the book.

“I never start a show late. If you miss me, you miss me. It’s your loss.” The statuesque redhead from the poster in the bar sat perched under the boat’s canopy in a formal gold evening gown filing her nails. She had a scarf tied over her hair and large dark sunglasses shielding her eyes from the setting sun. She held her hand out in front of her to study her handiwork.

The Skipper sighed. “Shove off, Gilligan. The sooner we get out to sea, the sooner we can get back and be rid of these characters.”

Gilligan almost protested, but was stopped by a glare from the Skipper. He climbed down the ladder to the deck and pulled in the line. “Ready, Skipper!” He pushed off of the wooden dock as the Skipper powered up the Minnow.

Gilligan turned and began his ascent up the ladder when he heard a faint voice above the roar of the boat’s engines. He turned and spotted a red gingham-clad figure racing down the dock towards them in a blur of pink, one hand holding her straw hat on her head, the other waving furiously at them.

“Boy,” Mr. Howell poked Gilligan in the leg with his walking stick. “I do believe you’re being flagged down.”

“Summoned even,” his wife added helpfully.

Ginger peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Oh boy. Here comes Dorothy.” She returned to her nails. Even the Professor looked up from his book momentarily.

“Skipper! She’s here! Turn around!”

The Skipper turned and peered back at the waving girl standing on the end of the dock. “Forget it, Gilligan. She’s late. She can get on one of the tours tomorrow.”

“But Skipper!” Gilligan took up residence on the stern of the boat, as close to his new friend as possible, pointing helplessly in her direction.

“We’re already fifteen minutes behind schedule, boy!” Howell admonished.

“Aw, but Thurston, look how sad they both look. We could be interfering with the natural order of things. And they’d make such a cute couple.”

“Don’t start, Lovey! Eighty percent of your matches end in divorce. And never a prenup!” Mr. Howell sat back in his chair, exasperated.

“Mrs. Howell’s right,” Ginger chimed in. “You can’t mess with fate. Terrible things could happen. Maybe the seven of us were meant to go on this tour together. Maybe Dorothy’s supposed to get on this boat.”

“Her name’s Mary Ann,” Gilligan corrected Ginger without looking at her.

“That’s preposterous,” the Professor piped up from behind his book. “There’s no scientific basis for fate or destiny or things being written in stars.”

Ginger brandished her nail file at him. “You have no sense of magic. I bet you’re not the least bit romantic.”

“Miss Grant, I shall withhold comment,” he replied simply and went back to his book.

“Good,” she shot back, returning once again to her nails.

As Mary Ann became smaller and smaller on the dock behind them, she finally stopped waving and dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m sorry, William!” she called, her voice faintly reaching their ears on the evening wind.

[Marvo301]

You seem to have captured all the characters perfectly. You have me riveted and I can't wait for the next chapter!

[callensensei]

The thumbnail sketches of each of the characters are subtle, witty and very accurate: I can imagine them all having this conversation before the Minnow actually sails. You've got the Howells' preoccupation with decorum, the Professor's bookishness and Ginger's glamour, with them all reacting as strangers, rather than the friends they become.

You also point out something very significant about Gilligan: his modesty. It's true that apart from the pilot episode, not once does he bring up the fact that he saved the Skipper's life in an act of extraordinary heroism. Mary Ann's line summed it up just right: "That's a hero talking if I ever heard one."

The description is wonderful too: little touches like the Skipper's large silhoutte in the hotel door or Ginger in her kerchief and sunglasses. I can just picture the story as I read it.

But poor Mary Ann! She got left behind! Find a quick dinghy and start paddling, Mary Ann!

Great job!

P.S. Extra points for the Skinny Mulligan reference!

[JWood201]

Thank you all! I appreciate the comments. Still not sure if they should go back for her or if I should go AU on it. We'll see.

It was harder than I thought to have them relate to each other as strangers, but it was an interesting challenge. Glad it seemed to translate well.

Haha, yes, I love Skinny Mulligan. I named a secondary character in the sitcom I'm developing after him. )

[Steve Carras]

Originally Posted by JWood201

Hi gang! Most of you weren't here when I was active a few years ago, but I recently rediscovered these boards. I've been mostly writing in script form for the past 2 year or so (TV school, etc), so my prose skills aren't what they used to be.

I had this idea for a series of pre-islad oneshots, like how they all meet before the tour, if they met before the tour, what their lives were like, etc. So I started this one, but I don't really know what the point is, or if there is one, or how exactly to end it, but I'm working on it. I thought I'd post what I have to get some responses before I continue.

Please be kind, I'm loving all the stories here!

-------------

The young woman tried to cause as little ruckus as possible as she hauled her giant suitcase through the door of the hotel bar. The brilliant Hawaiian sky behind her disappeared as she submerged into the darker world of mood lighting and mediocre lounge acts. She fanned the smokey air from her face just as the corner of her suitcase caught one leg of a gold easel, sending the poster leaning atop it tumbling to the ground.

An older gentleman caught the poster, an advertisement for a nightclub singer that would be performing there that night, deftly in one hand before it hit the ground, not spilling a drop of his drink. “This dirty floor is no place for Miss Grant,” he commented as he set the portrait of a stunning redhead back atop the easel, brushing some nonexistant dust from her two-dimensional cleavage.

The younger woman rolled her eyes inwardly, but smiled for his benefit. “Of course not.”

“Do you need help with that?” he called as she continued past him, her suitcase banging chair legs and human legs as she went.

“I’m fine, thank you!” She waved over her head as she finally reached the bar. She hopped up on a stool next to a hunched skinny figure and pulled her suitcase in front of her to rest her swinging feet on. She proudly deposited her purse and straw hat on the bar and grinned at the curious bartender.

“I’m free,” she told him. “Two weeks. I won this trip on the radio and I intend to savor every minute of it. I’m free – no more corn, no more chickens, no more cow manure for two whole weeks. My aunt almost had a heart attack when I told her I was going to Hawaii by myself, but I told her to get over it because I’m a mature, grown-up, adult woman now.” She smacked her hand down on the bar for emphasis and the bartender smiled kindly.

“Well, then what’ll you have for your celebratory drink?”

“Shirley Temple, please. Extra cherries.” The bartender smiled as the figure on the stool next to her giggled. She shot it a look from the corner of her eye and then ignored it. “I’m nineteen,” she reluctantly confided in the bartender and he winked at her conspiratoraly before moving away to make her drink.

She pointedly ignored the young man next to her until the bartender brought her drink over, garnished with a little bright blue paper umbrella. “Confidentially speaking,” the bartender began, leaning on the bar toward her, “he’s having the same thing.”

The young man next to her sat up straight for the first time and gaped at the bartender. “Hey! You know I’m gonna be twenty-one in exactly one month, Steve! And I’m gonna come in that night and go crazy!” Before the young man sat an impressive Shirley Temple stacked exuberantly with extra-extra cherries and three umbrellas – blue, green, and yellow. “I might even have three Shirley Temples and a chocolate-covered hamburger!” His blue eyes dropped back to his drink as the bartender chuckled and wandered away.

She watched him concentrate on his drink for a moment before he lifted his head. Brown hair fell away from his eyes as he proudly producd a cherry stuck to the other end of his straw as if this were the greatest magic trick in the world. He peered sideways to see if the girl was watching him. She was, with raised eyebrows. Even she understood the rudimentary science behind his way of impressing the ladies. He smiled and the vacuum broke, sending the cherry back into his drink and some of his drink onto his red shirt.

She finally laughed and when he looked up from wiping off his shirt, her hand was extended to him. “Mary Ann Summers.”

“Petty Officer First Class William Gilligan,” he replied with what to him seemed a very gallant tip of his white sailor’s hat. "Retired."

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m just a first mate.”

“I meant that trick with the cherry.”

“Oh, yeah?” He visibly brightened. “My buddy Skinny Mulligan can tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. He’s real proud of that, but I think it’s kinda disgusting.”

--------------------

Most random place to stop ever! But I got tired. =\ Looking forward to being more active here! Thanks in advance for any feedback!

Welcome back..JW.

[Steve Carras]

Originally Posted by JWood201

Hi gang! Most of you weren't here when I was active a few years ago, but I recently rediscovered these boards. I've been mostly writing in script form for the past 2 year or so (TV school, etc), so my prose skills aren't what they used to be.

I had this idea for a series of pre-islad oneshots, like how they all meet before the tour, if they met before the tour, what their lives were like, etc. So I started this one, but I don't really know what the point is, or if there is one, or how exactly to end it, but I'm working on it. I thought I'd post what I have to get some responses before I continue.

Please be kind, I'm loving all the stories here!

-------------

The young woman tried to cause as little ruckus as possible as she hauled her giant suitcase through the door of the hotel bar. The brilliant Hawaiian sky behind her disappeared as she submerged into the darker world of mood lighting and mediocre lounge acts. She fanned the smokey air from her face just as the corner of her suitcase caught one leg of a gold easel, sending the poster leaning atop it tumbling to the ground.

An older gentleman caught the poster, an advertisement for a nightclub singer that would be performing there that night, deftly in one hand before it hit the ground, not spilling a drop of his drink. “This dirty floor is no place for Miss Grant,” he commented as he set the portrait of a stunning redhead back atop the easel, brushing some nonexistant dust from her two-dimensional cleavage.

The younger woman rolled her eyes inwardly, but smiled for his benefit. “Of course not.”

“Do you need help with that?” he called as she continued past him, her suitcase banging chair legs and human legs as she went.

“I’m fine, thank you!” She waved over her head as she finally reached the bar. She hopped up on a stool next to a hunched skinny figure and pulled her suitcase in front of her to rest her swinging feet on. She proudly deposited her purse and straw hat on the bar and grinned at the curious bartender.

“I’m free,” she told him. “Two weeks. I won this trip on the radio and I intend to savor every minute of it. I’m free – no more corn, no more chickens, no more cow manure for two whole weeks. My aunt almost had a heart attack when I told her I was going to Hawaii by myself, but I told her to get over it because I’m a mature, grown-up, adult woman now.” She smacked her hand down on the bar for emphasis and the bartender smiled kindly.

“Well, then what’ll you have for your celebratory drink?”

“Shirley Temple, please. Extra cherries.” The bartender smiled as the figure on the stool next to her giggled. She shot it a look from the corner of her eye and then ignored it. “I’m nineteen,” she reluctantly confided in the bartender and he winked at her conspiratoraly before moving away to make her drink.

She pointedly ignored the young man next to her until the bartender brought her drink over, garnished with a little bright blue paper umbrella. “Confidentially speaking,” the bartender began, leaning on the bar toward her, “he’s having the same thing.”

The young man next to her sat up straight for the first time and gaped at the bartender. “Hey! You know I’m gonna be twenty-one in exactly one month, Steve! And I’m gonna come in that night and go crazy!” Before the young man sat an impressive Shirley Temple stacked exuberantly with extra-extra cherries and three umbrellas – blue, green, and yellow. “I might even have three Shirley Temples and a chocolate-covered hamburger!” His blue eyes dropped back to his drink as the bartender chuckled and wandered away.

She watched him concentrate on his drink for a moment before he lifted his head. Brown hair fell away from his eyes as he proudly producd a cherry stuck to the other end of his straw as if this were the greatest magic trick in the world. He peered sideways to see if the girl was watching him. She was, with raised eyebrows. Even she understood the rudimentary science behind his way of impressing the ladies. He smiled and the vacuum broke, sending the cherry back into his drink and some of his drink onto his red shirt.

She finally laughed and when he looked up from wiping off his shirt, her hand was extended to him. “Mary Ann Summers.”

“Petty Officer First Class William Gilligan,” he replied with what to him seemed a very gallant tip of his white sailor’s hat. "Retired."

“Impressive.”

“Not really.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m just a first mate.”

“I meant that trick with the cherry.”

“Oh, yeah?” He visibly brightened. “My buddy Skinny Mulligan can tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. He’s real proud of that, but I think it’s kinda disgusting.”

--------------------

Most random place to stop ever! But I got tired. =\ Looking forward to being more active here! Thanks in advance for any feedback!

The meals sound like the The HUnter episode, where the Skipper plans to have large large helpings of burgers, steaks..and oh yeah. DINNER!!!!! You should have been writin', for the original show had you been around..And to think: YOU ACTUALLY REMEMBER SKINNY MULLIGAN. I wish only he'd been on the show..another Bob Denver double, a different one than that Russian Spy one..[series regular Joanna Lee though did a fun job on that..] I wonder what Skinny, who wasn't actually a brother but sounds likme he looks like Gilligan, was really like. So, re some posts of yours on this, go ahead and appreciate my applause!

[Steve Carras]

Originally Posted by callensensei

The thumbnail sketches of each of the characters are subtle, witty and very accurate: I can imagine them all having this conversation before the Minnow actually sails. You've got the Howells' preoccupation with decorum, the Professor's bookishness and Ginger's glamour, with them all reacting as strangers, rather than the friends they become.

You also point out something very significant about Gilligan: his modesty. It's true that apart from the pilot episode, not once does he bring up the fact that he saved the Skipper's life in an act of extraordinary heroism. Mary Ann's line summed it up just right: "That's a hero talking if I ever heard one."

The description is wonderful too: little touches like the Skipper's large silhoutte in the hotel door or Ginger in her kerchief and sunglasses. I can just picture the story as I read it.

But poor Mary Ann! She got left behind! Find a quick dinghy and start paddling, Mary Ann!

Great job!

P.S. Extra points for the Skinny Mulligan reference!

LOL! I always loved the name. It sound EXACTLY like a TV sitcom bumbling character!! I hadn't seen JW for ages..I hope you don't mind, JW but I remember when she was a teenage poster, name of Courtney [itself the name of several very popular TV stars and a grunge singer..] and a favorite [she used to sign her name, unless I'm getting posts mixed up. There are a handful of regulars I used to see like Tibby but don't seem to see, and I'm registered with RetroLand and others that I haven't posted to for a while either!] Not to mention that this is usually the only SitcomsOnline board that I post to usually..