THE SKIPPER ABRUPTLY AWAKES OUT OF A DEEP SLEEP WITH A PLEASANT REALIZATION.

Ahhh! Now I remember!

(awakened by the Skipper)

Huh? Who? What? ...

Gilligan! Wake up!

I just remembered that I have had some old bank certificates sitting there accumulating interest for 40 years! Just think of what they are worth today!

Are you talking about the bank back where we started our fateful three-hour tour?

Three-hour tour?

Yeah. Like the theme song says!

Oh, right. Yes! That bank. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to get the word to them that I now want to cash in those certificates.

Skipper, aren't you forgetting one thing? One big thing.

You mean that we're presumably trapped here until we die?

Die, or get canceled.

Yeah. Or get canceled.

Yeah. That big thing.

I have a solution for my problem that doesn't require us being rescued.

This, I have to hear.

(not appreciating the condescension)

Gilligan, haven't you ever heard of passenger pigeons?

Sure. But, they're extinct.

Well, I know that's what everyone thinks.

Don't tell me you know where some are!

Bingo! And we will train them to carry a message back to where our tour started right to the bank. The message will contain my signature on a request to convert the certificates to cash.

Didn't your stroke last year force you to swap hand dominance so that now you write left-handed?

Yeah. So?

So? I doubt that your signature now looks anything like your signature when you bought the bank deals.

Hmmm. I forgot about the signatures not matching.

Hmmm. What else can I put in the message the birds will carry to convince the bank people?

Skipper, don't you think you need to first get the birds trained up to one, be able to fly in the correct compass direction, two, be able to fly a thousand miles in that direction, three, recognize your bank once they reach land, four, not drop the message along the way, and five, find the right person at your bank to give the message to?

Minor details, all.

Now, help me think of something unique about me, as I was several years ago, that I could use to make them know the message is real.

Hmm. Hey! What about providing a picture of you as you are here?

A picture? You mean a drawing?

Yes, a drawing.

How would that help?

I don't know. It just came to my mind.

What if I put my fingerprints on the message. Those wouldn't have changed so they will know it is me.

Good idea!

What can you use for ink?

We could ask the Professor.

Skipper, even if these birds deliver your message and the bank liquidates the certificates, what good will having cash, instead of investments, at the bank do you?

Gilligan, we will worry about that later.

THE SKIPPER AND GILLIGAN GO HUNTING FOR THE PROFESSOR TO GET AN IDEA OF WHAT TO USE TO TRANSFER FINGERPRINTS TO PAPER.

(screaming)

PROFESSOR??

Hey, there he is, over there.

THE PROFESSOR IS SITTING ON A LARGE STONE CLEANING HIS TOENAILS.

Oh, hi, Professor. We need to know something about fingerprints.

Gilligan, please go away for a few minutes. I have a real sore father toe and I have to be careful how I clean out the crud that's there.

GILLIGAN AND THE SKIPPER JUST STAND THERE WHILE THE PROFESSOR FINISHES HIS TOE DILLYING.

OK, now what do you want to know about fingerprints?

Professor, I need to get my fingerprints transfered to a piece of paper so some birds I have yet to capture can fly a thousand miles to my bank so I can convert some certificates into cash.

Beg pardon?

You didn't hear any of what the Skipper just said?

I heard it. I just don't believe it!

Professor, I need ... Oh nevermind!

Come on, Gilligan. I'm getting the feeling the Professor is not going to offer us anything.

THE SKIPPER AND GILLIGAN LEAVE THE PROFESSOR AND HEAD BACK TO THEIR HUT.

Gilligan, let's just go get some of those used-to-be-extinct pigeons and start teaching them their compass directions.

Skipper, Alan, I'm sorry. This premise is just too lame to continue being a part of.

May I call you, Alan?

For now. Denver!

Each week the ideas for this 30-minute show get lamer. I think I have had enough.

But, it pays well. I need the money.

I don't. I was on the Dobie Gillis show before and I, like your fiction Skipper characher, socked away a load. I am starting to believe I want to cash mine in.

Do you need the birds, then?

Alan, you gotta get real, man.