DISCLAIMER: "The Princess Diaries" is the intellectual property of Disney Enterprises, and "Monk" is the intellectual property of Mandeville Films, Touchstone Television, and NBC/Universal.
It was the evening of the Genovia Independence Day Ball, and lots of people were there, including Monk, Randy, Captain Stottlemeyer, and the Captain's wife, Katie.
Katie Stottlemeyer brought a high-definition video camera to film the event. The camera was state-of-the-art, featuring a high zoom lens, further augmented by digital zoom, night vision, and a LCD monitor that you could use to view what you were recording in addition to the viewfinder. It was also water-resistant to 100 meters, which was good considering the weather outside would be like. She was also acting as Monk's assistant for the day, because Sharona and Benjy were out of town visiting relatives.
The event had not officially started yet, so they were just looking around. All four of them turned their attention to an elegant statue, one that, for some odd reason, had something protruding from its mouth.
"Genovians, you know, are famous for their impeccable taste in art. AIso for their cheese. Maybe it's string cheese." Lord Jerome explained.
"It doesn't seem logical," Monk commented.
"Does everything have to be logical, Monk?" Stottlemeyer grumbled.
"Yeah, it kinda does," was Monk's response.
+-=+-=
Mia started the engine of her 1966 Ford Mustang, backed into Mr. Robutusen's trash cans, than started moving forward.
She was then surprised by a pizza delivery guy, who said, "Here you go. It's already paid for."
"I didn't order a pizza," replied Mia. "I'm sorry about that."
"No, you must've," said the pizza delivery guy. "Unless there's another Michael Moscovitz living here. We get a call, we deliver. That's our motto."
"You don't make the pizza?" Mia asked.
"No, no. I just deliver 'em."
+-=+-=
Meanwhile, Monk and Randy were looking into the statue.
"Why would anyone want to create a statue with something sticking out of its mouth?" Monk wondered. "Michelangelo's David didn't have anything in his mouth. Neither did statues of Abraham Lincoln or George Washington."
"Maybe it's a piece of chalk," Randy suggested. "Maybe it's supposed to be someone drawing a picture with their mouth."
"No, it's not a piece of chalk," said Monk. He moved his finger across the tip of the protrusion. "The tip of this…thing, it's too smooth, it's a perfect contour from one edge to the other. Chalk wears very erratically and geometrically, like a mountain. Mountains don't have smooth curves. It almost looks like…" and then it broke loose. Randy caught it before it hit the ground.
"…a human finger," Monk finished.
Randy burst out laughing. "You broke the statue! I can't believe this! You of all people! In all my years working with you, I never in my wildest dreams imagined you were capable of such a thing!"
"It was already broken," Monk argued. "Look at the shape of the mouth. There are no irregularities or cracks where that object was. It's perfectly smooth. This statue has been defaced."
+-=+-=
Mia was making progress, though she was making it somewhat erratically. She was talking to the car, encouraging it, as if it could actually hear her, which it couldn't (it was built in 1966, before computers were small enough to fit in a car and powerful enough to recognize speech), but she talked to it anyway. Then the engine stalled. Her attempts to restart it merely resulted in the ignition sputtering.
The fear began to re-enter Mia's mind. Maybe being a princess wasn't for her after all.
All the historical figures she had learned about who led countries were so perfect, thought Mia. They never made mistakes. They were so confident that what they were doing was right. Nobody could make even the smallest compliant about them. If only there were imperfect leaders. If only there was somebody out there somewhere who had just as many issues as I do and still managed to be successful. If only I could meet him…or her…and soon…if only…if only….
Maybe my grandmother was lying just to be polite. Maybe me taking the throne is actually my grandmother's worst nightmare. Maybe I really would be doing myself and everyone else a huge favor if I said no.
I'll bet if Grandma's nose were like Pinocchio's, when she said "I have faith in you," her nose would have grown as long as the Transamerica tower is tall.
+-=+-=
Now Clarisse and Charlotte were starting to get worried.
Charlotte told Clarisse, "There's no answer at Princess Mia's house, and I couldn't get Joesph on the cell phone. There's too much static from the storm. The press is starting to complain about making their deadlines."
Clarisse sighed, "If she's not here in 10 minutes, I'll make the announcement."
Charlotte replied, "Yes ma'am. It's okay. She'll be fine. She's gonna get here."
"Captain, Katie, you might want to take a look at this," said Randy. "And Katie, bring your camera. You might be able to help us with it."
Katie and the captain moved towards the statue, and both were astonished to see the statue with its mouth empty, and Monk holding what was once in the statue's mouth."
"Did you do that?" Stottlemeyer asked, his voice hardening.
"It was already broken," Randy explained in Monk's defense. "Someone broke off one of this statue's left fingers, and then placed it in the statue's mouth. I guess whoever did it didn't want attention and was hoping it would go unnoticed."
"Zoom in on the bottom of the finger," Monk suggested. "That can give us an idea as to how it was cut off."
Katie did, as far the camera would, using both the manual zoom and digital zoom. She slowly but progressively panned across the bottom of the finger from left to right.
The line on the finger was not a straight one. It was uneven and jagged. There was no way any tool could have done the type of damage they saw.
"This finger wasn't deliberately severed," Monk said. "It was an accident. But I still want to know who it was."
"Look at the middle of the finger. That looks like several drops of someone's spit. We could do DNA analysis on it," Randy advised.
Monk freaked out and dropped the finger. Once again, Randy caught it. "Wipe! Wipe, wipe, wipe!" Monk shrieked.
Katie gave him one. "Don't worry, I have a whole trunk full of them in the car," she assured Monk. "And several extras in my camera bag."
"You know how to be prepared," quipped Randy.
"Randy, it would take eight weeks to do a DNA analysis," growled Stottlemeyer. "And this isn't a homicide investigation, this is a vandalism investigation, assuming the owner of the statue decides to press charges. It'll get the lowest priority you can possibly grant. And for all we know, the person who broke this statue is several thousand miles away by now and has no intention of coming back here again, certainly not within the timeframe that we'll be around."
+-=+-=
Several minutes had gone by, and Mia still was not able to get the car going. It made no sense. The car had performed excellently the last time she used it. She wondered if the car's failing was normal, or if it was divine intervention. Worse, it had started to rain-hard. So she cried out to God, "Is this punishment for driving without a licensed driver in the front seat?"
There was no response. Maybe God didn't hear her. Or maybe God didn't care. Or maybe the manufacturers at Ford Motor Company had specifically designed the vehicle to quit working after 35 years, no matter how well you maintained it, thus forcing you to buy a new one.
"I am invisible, and I am wet", Mia declared.
+-=+-=
A reporter asked the Von Trokens, "Is it true that if the teenager refuses the princess-ship, your family will take over the country of Genovia?"
"Yes," the Von Trokens answered, "They must have a legitimate Renaldi blood relative or we rule."
Monk, Randy, Stottlemeyer and Katie had gone their separate ways at this point and were randomly making conversation with other guests. Katie, Stottlemeyer and Randy had given up on finding out who had broken that statue, but not Monk.
Monk struck up a conversation with Mia's mother, Helen.
"I have no idea what Mia will do," Helen confided. "I'm not sure if she could be a princess or not, even after taking lessons here with Clarisse for the last three weeks.
But she's a very good girl. She's not like other kids her age."
"What do you mean?"
"She has a few friends, but she's not the most popular girl at her school. But she seems to be okay with that. Other girls her age seem to be attracted to attention, while Mia tries to steer away from it. I guess that's okay, because all the kids who wind up in trouble are the ones who want attention. Too many kids these days brag about the bad things they do, but if Mia makes a mistake, she'll do anything she can to keep anyone from noticing."
Monk grinned. Helen didn't tell him much, but that was all he needed to know.
"I think I solved the case," Monk proclaimed.
+-=+-=
Mia had now resigned herself to waiting. Just sitting in the motionless car, letting the rain wash over her, and waiting for a sign, a message. Something that would tell her whether she was making the right choice or not.
She decided to sing. If someone came before she finished the song or if she could get the car started when she was done, she would continue on her way. If not….then what?
She started to half-sing, half-cry: "Catch a falling star….and put it in your pocket….never let it fade away…"
And then, out of nowhere, a limo appeared. One second she was all alone, the next second a new vehicle entered the intersection, like a cougar hiding behind a mound and then leaping up to catch its prey, captured in slow motion. That's what it's like when you're at an intersection in the hilly regions of San Franscisco.
It was Joe's limo. So they wanted her to take the throne. They truly believed she could rule a country. Mia was touched. Joe honked the horn twice and stepped out. "You wouldn't happen to be running away, would you?" he asked.
"What? Dressed like this? No, I'm going to a ball," Mia replied.
"Good, get in," Joe told her.
She did. There would be all kinds of people at the ball, people she had never seen before and would probably never see again. Maybe she would meet the person who would tell her exactly what she needed to hear. Maybe.
+-=+-=
Mo Taz announced to the guests, "Her Majesty, the Queen."
"Okay, Katie. This is the part you've been waiting for," Stottlemeyer told Katie. Katie turned the video camera on in response.
Clarisse began: "My fellow Genovians and honored guests, good evening. I apologize for the delay, and…" she responded to a gesture from the von Trokens- "oh, hello. And may I say, welcome to our Grand Genovian Independence Day Ball. Thank you so much for your patience. I have an announcement to make. My granddaughter…"
"Ahem-She's here!" someone said to Clarisse from the left side of the room.
"I see," Clarisse acknowledged, and continued, "I would like to announce that my granddaughter has arrived."
"It's her. She did it," Monk whispered to Stottlemeyer.
"With a fascinating explanation as to her wardrobe, I'm sure," Clarisse concluded.
"Hello, I'm Adrian Monk. I have another explanation you might want to hear first," Monk interrupted, approaching Clarisse and Mia.
"What do you mean?" asked Clarisse.
"Does this look familiar to either of you?" Monk countered, holding up the statue's severed finger.
Mia's eyes enlarged significantly.
"Here's what happened," Monk explained. "You walked up to the statue with no malicious intentions at all. You expected the statue was stronger than it actually was, and gave the statue a low five, bringing your right hand in contact with the statue's left, thus knocking off the statue's finger. You then attempted to reconnect the finger by moistening the edges with your spit. When that failed, you became desperate and panicked, and placed the severed finger in the statue's mouth."
"Wow!" Mia exclaimed, truly astonished. "You're absolutely right. It was me, and you described what happened right down to the last detail. How did you figure out all that?"
"He's Monk," Stottlemeyer said. "He can figure out anything because he notices and remembers everything."
"Does that mean you won't press charges?" Randy inquired.
"Precisely, " Clarisse said firmly. "Mia will either repair it or pay for its replacement."
"I suggest getting it fixed, and fast," Randy recommended. "It drives Monk nuts."
"Can we do that?" Mia asked.
"We certainly can," said Stottlemeyer. "I have some superglue in Katie's camera bag."
"Might I ask who you are?" asked Clarisse, slightly annoyed.
"Forgive me for not introducing myself properly, Your Majesty," said Stottlemeyer. "I'm Captain Leland Stottlemeyer, San Francisco Homicide. This is Adrian Monk, he's working for us as a consultant, but he's not on the force. This is Lieutenant Randy Disher. Last but not least, this is my wife, Katie. She makes documentary movies, and you, Mia, are the star of her latest movie project."
"Uh-oh," Mia groaned. "If I had known I was going to be in a movie, I never would have come here in my own car in weather like this. In fact, I would have sold the car and spent every penny to look nice for your wife."
"Don't worry, my wife's movies don't usually get a large audience," Stottlemeyer assured Mia.
"Besides, the goal of a documentary is to capture life as it is, not what we want it to be or we think it should be," Katie elaborated. "You're playing the best role that you can play-yourself. You're reality, unscripted and unplanned."
"Excuse me, but we have a statue to fix," Monk interrupted. "Can we correct this glaring asymmetrical abnormality in the recreation of the human form and move on?"
"Yes, let's do that," said Stottlemeyer. He showed Mia how to apply the superglue so that it would not be visible around the edges, and had her reconnect the finger. "Now you're going to need to hold it there for 10 minutes while the adhesive hardens."
"Only 10 minutes?" Mia said, surprised. "I wish it was 10 hours. Then everyone would get tired and have to go home and I wouldn't have to tell them my decision."
"You're afraid of public speaking?" Monk asked.
"Yes," Mia replied, speaking as if she was a prisoner pleading guilty.
"So am I," Monk replied. "I'm also afraid of snakes, heights, germs, milk, dirt, crowds, needles, flying, imperfection, enclosed spaces, the dark, noise, and 26 other things I can't remember right now. But blood doesn't scare me. Is there anything that doesn't scare you?"
"Climbing doesn't scare me at all," Mia declared. "I hope that someday I can get to climb mountains in Colorado."
"I envy you for that," said Monk. "If we could have switched brains a few months ago, I could have been reinstated."
"What do you mean by that?" Mia asked.
"I used to be a cop, but I'm not anymore," Monk explained. "About four years ago, my wife, Trudy, was killed by a car bomb explosion. I was so upset because of it that I had a nervous breakdown, lost my job, and didn't leave my house for three years. When I was finally able to leave the house, I decided to get my job back, or get reinstated. But I blew it. Because of my fear of heights, the criminal I was chasing got away."
"But not all of Monk's issues are bad things, " Stottlemeyer added. "Randy and I have noticed over the years that many of the aspects of Monk's personality that people consider annoying have actually been very helpful in solving crime. He can notice the smallest details, find patterns, and make connections that most of us can't."
"How can my problems be good to anyone?" Mia asked. "I'm socially awkward, I'm a klutz, and I'm still only fifteen, so I probably have a whole bunch of issues I'm not even aware of yet."
"Being socially awkward doesn't mean you can't be a leader," Clarisse explained. "Calvin Coolidge didn't talk very much, but he didn't need to. His actions spoke louder than his words."
"Fear can be a good thing," Stottlemeyer continued. "It keeps you from saying or doing things you'll end up regretting later. It's been my experience that the people who have too little fear are the people that we have to put behind bars. Therefore, I see your fear of public speaking as an advantage. You'll choose your words wisely and attempt to avoid upsetting people."
"I agree," Randy concurred. "You're actually well-suited to ruling a country. If you're clumsy and uncomfortable around big groups of strangers, you won't waste money on wild parties for yourself. There's no way that you'll turn into the next Marie Antoinette."
"Okay, take your hand off and let me look," Stottlemeyer instructed Mia. He and Clarisse stepped back and examined the statue. "It's fixed. Nobody will ever know except us."
"Well…here goes….something…" said Mia nervously as she began to proceed towards the podium.
"Mia?" Monk asked.
"Yes, Monk?"
"Can I come up with you?"
"Sure, but why do you ask?"
"Conquering fears can be done more effectively when people with shared fears conquer a fear together because they have a shared mutual understanding of the fear. Or at least that's what Dr. Kroger told me," Monk said.
"Who's Dr. Kroger?" Mia inquired.
"My psychiatrist," Monk answered. "I see him for one-hour sessions several times a week. Besides, I feel that making everyone wait is more my fault than it is yours."
"I have sometimes considered being a psychiatrist," Joe quipped. "For some odd reason, I have a feeling that someday I will be."
"Okay, let's go," said Mia, now excited. Her heart thumped audibly as she took her place, though not as loudly as she thought it would. Perhaps it was because she had dried off in the process of fixing the statue and looked presentable, or perhaps it was because Monk was on her left, starting off by apologizing for the delay he caused. But it was most likely a combination of both, with Monk becoming a greater factor as time progressed. The more comfortable Monk got, the more comfortable Mia got. She said so much that she didn't remember most of what she said, but she did remember saying:
"If the man on my left can have 38 phobias and OCD without it getting in the way of him solving murders, then I can be a klutz and have a fear of public speaking without it getting in the way of me being Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Princess of Genovia."
And she was crowned as such.
She and Monk kept on talking for a long time afterwards. In fact, they ended up talking for so long that all the guests got bored and went home. One reporter commented, "I just wanted a yes or no answer, not a filibuster." So when Monk and Mia finally finished their speech, Katie was the last person to leave because her camera's battery went dead, and it was just Monk, Mia, Clarisse, Helen and Joe.
Monk and Mia were proud of themselves and each other. Not only had they both conquered their fear of public speaking, but they had the ballroom floor all to themselves.
Unfortunately, they didn't get to use it for more than a few seconds because the electricity went out, plunging the building into total darkness. Monk started to freak out again because of his fear of the dark, and Joe took him home. Helen made Mia go to bed before she broke another valuable item. Besides, it was a school night.
+-=+-=
I leave it up to you to imagine what comes next for Mia.
THE END.