“So here we are,” said Huey. “stuck on Gilligan’s Island – Chickenshit Crusoe and his faithless companion, Good Friday.”
“I was a Boy Scout for two weeks,” Paul offered.
“What a relief. And to think I was starting to get worried. But you obviously know how to start a fire without matches, forage for food, and carve a comfortable existence out of the cruel jungle.”
“Well I did learn how to tie a square knot.”
“Well there you are. You little rascals are always prepared, aren’t you? And kind and reverent and true and God-fearing and above all helpful. If we only had a little old lady, you could help her back and forth across the beach.”
“Are you through?”
“Probably not.” She sat down next to him.
“Since we may be spending the rest of our lives together, we should probably learn to be cordial.”
“Sure, I know your type, Crusoe,” said Huey. “First you get a girl stranded on an island. Then you want to be cordial. And then – ”