Micky
Now he had done it. Micky was sure that this could not have possibly gone worse. Peter was fuming. And since Peter was all peace and love, it went without saying that it took quite a bit to take him over the edge.
"Micky what the hell were you thinking?" Peter shouted.
"It was all for the good of the business," Micky tried to explain. "I didn't think you'd mind…"
"Why wouldn't I mind my piano missing more than half its keys!?" Peter seemed to be getting louder by the second.
It was true. Micky had gotten a 'brilliant idea' for his next business venture. Micky had been hanging around a toy store checking out the new items when he noticed a highly trafficked section of the store. He pushed his way through the throngs of kids and saw what all the excitement was about. There were huge model train sets and villages arranged around the massive models. Micky watched as many parents bought those train sets.
"Because the brilliant idea is foolproof!" Micky said defensively. "I needed the keys to create train tracks for the model trains that I started making out of Davy's tambourines. I call the brand 'Last Train to Clarksville'."
Peter's body tensed up in anger. His eyes narrowed and his face became beet red. Peter crossed his arms and looked as though he was trying to think about his next move before doing something that he would regret. Micky noticed Peter's hostile body language and worked towards smoothing things over.
"I can see you're annoyed and I totally get that," Micky said putting his hands up in surrender. "But consider the fact that we are going to be rich off this scheme and we can buy you a newer, fancier piano!"
Micky looked on with an innocent facial expression, one that was portraying the message of 'how could you be mad at this face?'. He waited in silence. There was nothing left to say or do. He had thoroughly described the plan and the piano was already broken apart seemingly beyond repair. Peter had to forgive him. What other options were there?
Peter remained motionless for what felt like a half an hour but in reality wasn't even a minute before he spoke.
"Rich? Off one of your brilliant ideas?" Peter scoffed. "When was the last time one of your ideas caused us anything but annoyance or a headache?"
Ouch. Micky had not expected that Peter would snap back like that. Because as far as Micky knew he had never actually seen Peter experience anything more than being a tad miffed. Peter was so easygoing and forgiving that Micky figured he could just do as he pleased without much thought.
"Okay, I see you aren't completely on board…Ha! Get it trains, on board!"
Peter was not laughing.
"Okay, tough crowd. I think you're completely missing the point here, Pete."
"No Micky, you're missing the point! You take advantage of everyone around you. And I don't always think you mean to do that, part of it seems to be inconsideration. Usually everyone overlooks it and says 'Oh that's just Micky. He's eccentric'," Peter continued sarcastically. "This time you've gone too far!"
Micky's mouth dropped. He was flabbergasted. He couldn't believe that Peter would say such hurtful things to him. Where was his usual tranquil manner?
"Wow Peter I can't believe you're being so selfish," Micky blurted out without thinking.
"You're the selfish one!" Peter yelled. "When are you ever going to grow out of this self-centered phase?"
Micky balled up his fists and clenched his jaw. "I don't need to take this. I'm out of here. I'll take my idea and make it big, you'll see. Then you'll be sorry that you ever doubted or insulted me!"
Micky stomped up the spiral staircase and slammed the bedroom door behind him. He began sorting through the chaos that was his side of the room in order to gather items that he would need to be out on his own. If everyone felt that he was annoying and inconsiderate, then who needed those three? He could make it on his own without anyone else. After all, he was the brains of the operation. More money and fame for him.
"What in the world is going on in here?" Mike asked coming inside from the back porch.
Peter was still wound up from the fight with Micky. He turned around to face the confused Mike and was still shouting. "I'm tired of Micky's impulsivity and lack of remorse."
Mike backed away slightly at the outburst. "Whoa, whoa, Shotgun. What are you talking…"
Mike was interrupted by the sound of stomping and slamming upstairs. Both men looked up towards the ceiling. Mike scratched his wool hat in bewilderment. "Again I ask, what is going on?"
Peter didn't respond verbally and just nodded towards what was left of his piano. Mike examined the damage to the piano and found the discarded keys nearby forming a makeshift train track.
"So from what I see here," Mike assessed, "Micky had a brilliant idea which involved demolishing you're piano and apparently a few tambourines."
"He just has no respect for other people and their belongings," Peter said irritably.
"I bet he had the best intentions though. You know him. He gets an idea in his head, it's like he can't help himself."
"Well, he needs to learn some restraint."
"Did you tell him that?"
Peter looked down and rethought the conversation that had previously transpired. "In not so many words."
"From that answer, I'm taking it that your anger got the best of you and you may have said some things that were hurtful."
Peter contemplated that perception. Why did Mike have to be so knowledgeable? Peter wasn't ready yet to forgive and forget so easily.
"Alright, I see that you have some things to think about. Just do me a favor and don't give up on friendship so fast," Mike said as he squeezed Peter's shoulder and went back outside.
Peter had given himself an hour to cool down. Of course he was going to forgive Micky. It wasn't like Peter to hold grudges, especially for someone he cared about so dearly. But to prove a point, he had to let Micky sweat it out. Although, Peter was becoming a tad concerned about Micky leaving. He didn't truly believe that Micky would seriously leave, however all the noise from upstairs had subsided a half hour ago. Had he packed up and snuck out the upstairs window?
Peter shot up and rushed towards the closed door to make sure Micky was still there. He knocked lightly on the door and listened. He heard a very slight movement and took that as a sign that the room was still occupied.
"Hey, Micky? Can I come in?"
There was no response from inside the room.
"I get it you're still offended and perhaps angry. Listen I'm sorry that I lost my temper earlier. Davy's attitude must be rubbing off on me," Peter attempted to joke.
Still no response.
"Okay, I didn't mean those things I said. I think your brilliant ideas are creative. I just would like it if you would not act so quickly on them and ask before you touch things that aren't yours. You know? I think things will be better for everyone. What do you say?"
There was still no answer. It made Peter think that the movement he had heard before was not Micky. He decided to go into the room and see for himself. Peter entered the room and noticed that Micky's usual messy room looked even more like a hurricane had hit it. He glanced over at Micky's bed and saw that the drummer had fallen asleep with a screwdriver in one hand and a radio in the other. There was a duffel bag on the floor next to the bed with one shirt in it. Apparently, Micky had begun packing to leave and had gotten sidetracked with another project.
Peter smiled to himself. He tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door. He should have known Micky wasn't going to leave; he didn't have the attention span for it.
