Tell an old story in a new way--I'll go first!

[AlienGirl]

These tourists were, for the most part, youngsters; there was one rather aloof older married couple, but no one had talked to them yet. Their standoffish air of superiority was an irritant. The two young women, on the other hand, were the darlings of the resort: the Captain had seen them around already, always followed by a cluster of hopeful fellows. The younger girl, who reminded the Captain of someone he’d known back in dreary Iowa (not that there was anything dreary about her, he thought, half-smiling), seemed genuinely surprised and pleased by the attentions of the would-be suitors; but the older one, a real spitfire, took it as her due and played with the men’s affections like someone well used to being the prettiest girl in the room. Wouldn’t it just surprise her to know that he and his first mate had privately agreed upon the younger girl, the dark-haired sweetie, as the cuter of the two! The Captain grinned a private grin again. If he were twenty years younger….

You’d still be selling cars in Des Moines, he reminded himself ruefully. The last of the tourists came shuffling down the pier, dragging something behind him. The Captain didn’t know what to make of this one yet. Everyone who came to the resort was there to enjoy themselves, take a vacation, but this bozo was in the islands to work. Seaweed, was it? or seagull shit? Some chemical or other, this egghead thought it would be good fertilizer. He’d already bent the Captain’s ear about it once, though darned if the Captain could make head or tail of it, and the way egghead carried on you’d think he’d found gold. No doubt the bundle egghead was dragging had something to do with his discovery; there was no way he’d be taking a little side-trip for the hell of it. Near as the Captain could figure, fun was not in the egghead’s vocabulary.

The first mate, a youngish, lanky Irish guy with a perpetual sunburn, helped each of the passengers and their accoutrements onto the little ship. How much stuff do these mainlanders need to be at sea a few hours? he grumbled to himself. Between the old lady and her trunkful of whatever, and the nerd with the metal box, the boat must have an extra five or six hundred pounds of ballast! Finally everything was ready. The Captain climbed in, and they cast off.

When the winds came, neither the passengers nor the crew was prepared. The little boat tipped desperately in the mounting waves, its navigation equipment ruined and wheel spinning, spinning as the Captain tried to grab it, to steer his boat, his ­baby that he'd spent everything on when he left his "good job" to be an island bum. Things fell and somebody shrieked, her voice melding with the whistle of wind and relentless crash of the sea. From above came a terrible crack, and parts of the ship fell with a sickening thud against the Captain's skull. Then everything went dim—dark—then there was only the feel of wind and rain, and then there was not even that.

When the Captain awoke, the first thing he saw was a perfect blue sky. He cautiously felt the solid ground--ground!--beneath him and wondered if anyone else had survived the storm, and if his ship would be repairable. After checking to assure himself that everything in his body still worked, the Captain sat up and looked around him, at the band of frayed survivors. Miraculously, they had lost nobody: all of the tourists appeared unhurt, and the first mate, though bruised, was already standing and walking toward the dense vegetation of the island. The Captain turned slowly to look for his ship...there she was, hopelessly battered, nothing to save...In despair he clutched his head.

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

Your turn! Tell me a familiar story in a new and unusual way!

Tucker

[MikeG]

1. Here's the song.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip.
That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man, the skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day, for a three-hour tour, a three-hour tour………

The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost; the Minnow would be lost.

The ship took ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle, with Gilligan, the Skipper too,

The Millionaire, and his Wife, the Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann, here on Gilligan's Isle.

So this is the tale of our castaways, they're here for a long, long time.

They'll have to make the best of things; it's an uphill climb.

The first mate and his skipper too, will do their very best,

To make the others comfortable, in the tropic island nest.

No phones, no lights, no motor cars, not a single luxury.
Like Robinson Crusoe, it's primitive as can be.

So join us here each week my friend, you're sure to get a smile.
From seven stranded Castaways, Here on Gilligan's Isle.

[AlienGirl]

2. Yup

That's the story, but told in the style of James Tiptree, Jr.

Tucker