Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I-I tried to be nice. I really tried.
- Gilligan.. - Huh?
- Oh, Skipper. - Very good, come on, Tiger.
You really miss Gilligan, don't you, Skipper?
Just that I haven't got anything left to wager.
Gilligan, my boy, you're a fine young man.
- I'm giving you to the Skipper. - Skipper?
He likes it here. Don't you, Rex?
This punch is off. Put some more papaya or something in it.
The Skipper's turtle will go in our pen.
- Certainly, Mr. Howell. - Alright.
and I repeat, nobody stands in his way.
All eight plants for $4,000.
I think they're overworking you.
It's only a turtle, but after 39 races
It's me, your Skipper.
* It's primitive as can be *
No secret, fact is we've knitted a pair of wings for my turtle
Over to visit what I lost.
"The race is to the swift.
- You mean my knife? - Until the race.
When Howell makes up his mind to be
- How's that? - Oh, yeah.
- Comes through what? - Unscaved.
I miss being your first mate.
You wanna win me back?
There's nothing for him to do.
'Here, Gilligan. Make the moss look good.'
- Hi, Professor. - Hi, Gilligan.
You're getting me all tangled up, son.
[knocking]
* A tale of a fateful trip *
- Rex? - Yeah.
How did you get a newspaper on the island?