Rerun
by Bill Tope
One Day, Bob
Smith climbed into his television set, just to
see how it felt. He didn't take the back cover
off and and climb in, bur rather went through the
screen and into the TV program that was playing
at the time. That show was a rerun of the
venerable Gilligan's Island, one of Bob's
personal favorites. Arriving magically in
the cove, Bob blinked in surprise: there was no
color anywhere on the island, just white and
shades of gray. Then he remembered: this must be
one of the earlier episodes, which were filmed in
black and white.
Bob had always
admired the Skipper, felt it quite unfair the way
that Gilligan, a simpleton at best, abused their
friendship and carried on like a numbskull.
And Bob was going to see that it happened no more.
Smith approached the first of four grass huts. He
found the Skipper lounging in the bottom of two
hammocks, with his little buddy, Gilligan,
occupying the one on top. Bob surveyed the
situation critically. Gilligan, he saw, was
noshing on a banana and would soon inevitably
discard the peel onto the Skipper's face,
tormenting him unmercifully. This would, like as
not, result in a fit of pique or worse, maybe
even a heart attack. Smith shook his head.
Gilligan just didn't look the same in a gray
shirt instead of the bright red one he wore in
the colored episodes. But Skipper, Bob was
pleased to see, really did wear his hat when
asleep.
Springing into
action, Bob grabbed Gilligan by the collar and
yanked him from his hammock, slung him forcefully
into the wall. He weighed no more than a
whisper. The entire hut shook. "Skip-perrr!"
shouted Gilligan, terrified. The Skipper,
in response, did a series of double takes and
triple takes and clambered out of his swinging
bed. "What is it, Little Buddy?" asked
the larger man. Gilligan only pointed at Bob. A
look of astonishment overtook Skipper's face.
"Who are you?" he asked Bob with
astonishment. "This week's guest star?"
"I never
saw him before, Skipper," yammered Gilligan.
"He's no guest star. He's a...he's a...producer!"
Skipper reacted with horror, scrambled with
Gillian from the hut and to presumptive safety.
Bob just stood there, flummoxed. This wasn't
supposed to happen. The Skipper, carrying all
that extra weight, was apt to have a stroke and
it would be all Bob's fault. Reluctantly,
he climbed back through the television screen and
into his living room.
Bob felt
disappointed; his fantasies about his happy
island family had always seemed so real to him.
He hadn't even had a chance to make a pass at
Ginger. Alhough, he reflected, he alway was
always more attracted to Mary Ann. Reality had
failed him. Who was it said that you can
never go home again? He furrowed his brow;
maybe it was Bullwinkle, or some other deep
thinker. He shook away the thoughts and, reaching
for the remote, put the TV on mute--he never,
ever turned it off--and lay back on the sofa and
was soon fast asleep.
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