Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It wasn't your fault, Gilligan.

When you're in trouble and need help. Who do you go to?

- You. - Oh, Lovey.

[argument continues]

Gilligan, will you concentrate?

* Uncharted desert isle *

* Five passengers set sail that day *

We were, until you started to be a party pooper.

I repeat, silly superstitions incocted by ignorant savages.

- You know who. - I know but tell me anyway.

- What's on your mind? - What's on your lip?

* The weather started getting rough *

Oh, it's almost an hour.

I'm making sure a hawk doesn't swoop down and carry me off.

- My eyes? - Yeah, they're not sad enough.

Somebody will step on it. Here hold these. Here.

Oh, I don't. It's completely unscientific.

Well, any luck?

Okay, Skipper. Let's try.

Skipper, my dad was real short I used to look down at him.

He's so unselfish. I think for a friend, he'd turn inside out.

That's exactly right.

It's the other eye, Skipper. It's the other eye. The eye.

Sure we will. Take off your shoes. Walk in a straight line.

That ice-cream was dropped from a plane.

- Now make a fist. - Uh-huh.

And don't get yourself lost like you did that jewel.

Every part of you feels calm

You'd have your choice of leading ladies to pick from.

- What's that, Gilligan? - I have a shooting marble.

Little buddy. Gilligan. Look.

Oh, yeah, you're right. Okay, Skipper.

Oh, that's the old pioneer stud, my dear.