Scene 1 ~ Some Little Out of the Way Place That Nobody Goes (Southside Branch)

"Oh what a night," Davy mused, holding hands across the dining table with his date. They both looked into their chocolate eyes, lost in wonder. As the others would say, Davy was 'in love again.'

"Oh what a man," Davy's date mused. "I wish I could be with you forever."

"You can be, if you like," Davy said willingly.

"I'm afraid that won't happen," She replied.

"What do you mean?" Davy asked. The waiter came by and picked up the check.

"I'm afraid I'll never see you again," She withdrew her hands and looked away from him, as if it was illegal to look at him.

"I don't understand," Davy said.

"I'm leaving, after tonight," She picked up her purse and from it revealed a ring. "But please, take this to remember me by."

"What is this?" Davy joked, "A wedding ring? I'm too young to be married."

"No, of course not. It's just a normal old ring. To remember me by," She took Davy's right hand and slid the ring onto his ring finger. She then stood and left, but not before giving Davy a passionate kiss. "Goodbye Davy Jones."

She left poor Davy all alone at the table, alone with his ring. He looked down at it for a moment, moving it back and forth along his finger. He would not be able to get over her for a while. He didn't even know her name. However, he knew one thing. He loved her.

Scene 2 ~ The Monkees' Pad

Davy came stumbling into the pad, a hand placed firmly on his forehead. He could hardly focus, let alone walk. It took all his might to walk back from his date at the Little Out of the Way Place Where Nobody Goes, the Southside Branch respectively. His head was throbbing. Ever since he left the restaurant he had developed this awful migraine that just wouldn't go away. When he entered, he saw Mike, Micky, and Peter, all packing up their instruments, ready to play at the gig they had at the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh. They all noticed Davy's less than exceptional mood.

"You alright babe?" Mike asked, tucking his guitar case under his arm.

"Yeah, you don't look so hot," Micky added.

"Me head's killin' me," Davy admitted, strolling towards the kitchen for water.

"Do you think you can play tonight?" Peter asked. Davy thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

"Well here babe, let's get you to bed," Micky walked over and grabbed Davy by the shoulders, leading him to the downstairs bedroom. "You get some rest and we'll let the manager know what happened. We'll check in on you when we get home. Groovy?" Davy nodded as he allowed Micky to help him into bed, tucking him in sweetly. "Now you get some sleep our little English muffin."

"Yes Mom," Davy smirked, cuddling his blankets.

Micky left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Well looks like we're down a musician."

"That won't be too much of a problem," Mike admitted, "We'll just have to rearrange the set list a bit on the way. Let's go." The three Monkees grabbed what they could and headed out to the MonkeeMobile, ready to play for their less than adoring public.

Scene 3 ~ The Vincent Van Gogh Gogh

"Take the last train to Clarksville! Last train to Clarksville!" Micky ended the tune, spinning his drumsticks happily. As he spun his sticks, one smacked him in the face. He flinched, dropping both sticks.

"Micky!" Mike scolded. "Get with it!"

"Yes sir!" Micky said, scrambling to pick up his sticks. That's when the headache started. They jumped right into '(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone.' About halfway through Peter began to notice Micky missing drum queues. He gave Mike a look. When Mike received the look, Peter nodded towards Micky. Mike noticed it, too. However they kept playing along, trying to keep it together.

When the song ended, Mike suggested they play, 'Sweet Young Thing.' Micky happily agreed. This time, Peter and Mike kept an eye on the drummer, watching him struggle to play tambourine and hit the bass drum with his foot at the same time. There was a verse where he simply placed his head in his hands, massaging his skull. This can't be good.

"We're going to take a ten minute break now," Mike said when the song ended. "You stay 'round, you hear?" The Monkees hurried off stage.

"Micky, man, you alright?" Mike asked as soon as they were offstage.

"Man, my head is killin' me," Micky replied, rubbing his head.

"Just like Davy," Peter said. "Mike, this can't be good."

"It never is, Shotgun. You think you can play anymore, Mick? You looked like you were strugglin' out there."

Micky shrugged. "I… I don't know." Micky flinched, then fell to the ground. Mike and Peter both caught him, standing him back up. "I- I'm sorry," Micky mumbled, still cradling his head.

"What's the matter with you, Mick?" Mike asked.

"My he-" Micky flinched, yelping in pain. "That hurt!" Micky looked up, his face turning from pained to surprised. "Mike? Peter?"

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"How did I… My voice!" Micky exclaimed, grabbing my throat.

"There is nothing wrong with your voice, Micky," Mike said firmly.

"Micky?!" Micky exclaimed. "I'm not Micky! I'm Davy!"

Both Mike and Peter looked at each other, both groaning. "You're… who now?" Mike asked, dreading the answer.

"Davy!"

"He's Davy," Peter said, almost not surprised by the development. "You hear him Mike? He's Davy."

"Yes Peter…" Mike sighed. "We definitely have a predicament on our hands, don't we?"

"Mike!" Micky squeaked. "What are we going to do?"

"Well, we have a gig to finish first. After that, well, we'll see," Mike admitted. "Come on, let's go. Davy, try your best." Micky nodded and the three headed back on stage to finish the second act.