Here on Gilliganís Isle
It is a really long brief lapse of insanity.
"EASY!" the strong and illustrious voice spoke again. "This island is in a different dimension than your time."
"What?" Watson inquired. "Who said that?"
Holmes looked up at the ceiling. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. The voice gasped.
"This is a family show! You canít say hell!"
Holmes twitched. "And why the he-" Lestrade elbowed him in the ribs.
"I think he means," she reworded, "who are you?"
"I am the narrator of this show."
"The narrator. Of this TV show. You know, Gilliganís Island? I have complete control over your actions."
"What? No, you donít!"
"Yes, I do."
"No, you donít!"
"Yes, I do."
Lestrade looked skyward. "Prove it!"
There was a pause. Suddenly Lestrade started to cluck like a chicken and peck at the ground.
"Fine, we believe you," Holmes replied. "Now, although it is quite amusing, do you mind releasing Lestrade?"
"Fine." Lestrade stopped digging for worms and glared evilly at the invisible narrator (Iím not sure where she was glaring, but anyway...).
"So, like we said earlier, how are we in a different dimension?"
"Gilliganís Island is a place far, far from reality where all of your dreams come true."
"Like Fantasy Island?" Watson asked.
"No, different show! This is GILLIGANís Island. It functions in a different way than the... um... 'real' world."
"Why is 'real' in quotations?" suspiciously asked Lestrade.
"Well, I meant, 'real' meaning your world."
"Are you saying that our world isnít real?"
The voice paused and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, the people on this island, all representing different aspects of society, live in this paradise."
"Now, does this have some sort of social value?" Holmes dryly questioned.
"Entertainment value, mostly. Now, I have decided to add even more aspects of society."
"Meaning us?" Holmes narrowed his eyes.
"But you canít! We need to get back home to our lives!" Lestrade growled.
"Sorry, but the ratings say we need some fresh characters."
"Fine," Holmes said. Lestrade and Watson both abruptly turned to him.
"FINE!?!?" Lestrade growled. "FINE!?!? It is fine we just stay trapped on this island for eternity?"
"Of course," Holmes nonchalantly replied. "I am sure these islanders would love to hear about the future."
"WHAT?" the voice boomed. "You canít do that! It would corrupt the island! Besides, this is a fantasy show, not a futuristic one!"
"Sorry," Holmes quipped. "Now, I believe we are late to the party. Doesnít that coconut cream pie smell delicious?" He began to walk toward the door.
"NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! YOU CANíT DO THIS! AGGGHhhhhh!"
The last thing Lestrade remembered what a white flash of light.
"Smart thinking, Holmes," Watson congratulated. They were back on a hoverplane, headed for New London.
"Of course!" Holmes bragged.
"For a minute, I thought you were serious about us staying there," Watson laughed.
"Of course not. I wouldnít do so well on a tropical island."
"Why not?" Lestrade questioned.
"Iím allergic to coconut," Holmes said.
The three of them began to laugh in that annoying way all horrible sitcoms end, and some music began to play in the background.
So join us here each week, my friends,
You're sure to get a smile,
From seven stranded castaways,
Here on "Gilligan's Isle."
Editor's Note: Gilligan's Island belongs to...um...Sherwood Schwartz.
I'm not sure what corporate entity distributes it. Anyway, we're just playing.
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