Chapter 1

On a particularly humid afternoon on Gilligan's Island, the palm trees drooped as if even they were tired of being marooned.

Poor Gilligan trudged through the jungle, kicking at ferns and sighing heavily enough to startle a nearby parrot.

“It was my fault,” he muttered for the seventeenth time that morning. “If I hadn’t dropped that anchor… or tied that knot… or zigged when I should’ve zagged…”

He was so busy replaying every nautical blunder aboard the SS Minnow that he failed to notice a low-hanging branch. The branch, however, noticed him.

THUNK.

Gilligan toppled backward into a pile of broad tropical leaves, eyes spinning like coconuts in a hurricane.

When he awoke, the world seemed… different.

He blinked. Sat up. Smoothed his hair.

“Well,” he said crisply, “that simply won’t do.”

He looked down at his familiar red shirt and cap with immediate distaste.

“Honestly, Bunny, you can’t be seen in this.”

Bunny?

Yes. Of course. Her name was Bunny. Bunny Gilligan. Twenty-nine. Secretary. Efficient. Underappreciated. Tragically single.

She rose to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.

“Stranded on an island is no excuse to abandon standards.”

With a determined nod, Bunny marched toward the girls’ hut.

Inside, she found the place empty. How convenient.

Bunny surveyed the modest island wardrobe options and, with a decisive hum, assembled something far more suitable for a professional woman of ambition.

Soon she emerged wearing a sharp red business suit-tailored blazer and pencil skirt-paired with a white lace-trim blouse. Taupe pantyhose completed the ensemble, along with matching red pumps boasting a sensible yet confident two-inch heel.

Beneath the professional exterior, Bunny wore satin high-waisted underthings that made her stand a little taller. If one must be stranded, one could at least feel glamorous about it.

She applied makeup with careful precision, adding a tasteful sweep of lipstick and blush. Her nails were painted to match her suit.

She examined her reflection in a polished metal tray.

“Capable,” she said approvingly. “Competent. Marriageable.”

She stepped out of the hut just as Ginger and Mary Ann returned carrying baskets of fruit.

They froze.

Bunny smiled brightly. “Good afternoon, ladies! Have either of you seen the Skipper?”

The two women slowly turned to one another.

Mary Ann blinked twice. “Um… Gilligan?”

Bunny tilted her head. “I’m sorry, dear, I think you’re mistaken. I’m Bunny.”

Ginger removed her sunglasses in dramatic disbelief. “Well, darling, you certainly look like Gilligan.”

Bunny waved a manicured hand dismissively. “Common confusion. Family resemblance.”

Mary Ann, ever polite, cleared her throat. “The Skipper’s by the lagoon, I think.”

“Perfect!” Bunny clasped her hands. “Thank you so much.”

Ginger leaned toward Mary Ann as Bunny briskly strode away, heels clicking confidently against the packed sand.

“Either we’ve been in the sun too long,” Ginger murmured, “or Gilligan has finally snapped.”

Mary Ann watched Bunny’s purposeful walk. “Do you think we should follow?”

Ginger shook her head. “No, dear. I wouldn’t want to interrupt… whatever this is.”

Meanwhile, Bunny navigated the path with surprising poise for someone who had, hours earlier, been barefoot and accident-prone.

She spotted The Skipper in the distance, examining a makeshift fishing net.

She paused.

There he was.

Broad-shouldered. Commanding. Sturdy as a lighthouse.

“Husband material,” she whispered approvingly.

She adjusted her blazer, lifted her chin, and began walking toward him with unmistakable purpose, red heels tapping rhythmically like destiny itself.

Chapter 2

Bunny paused just long enough behind a palm tree to rehearse.