One bright morning, a couple walking hand-in-hand strode towards a head shop called aptly, "Psychedelic Psycho." Just by looking at the two, you'd never be able to tell all the craziness that they had gone through together in the past few months that included an abusive ex-boyfriend, a crazy hitman, and many a wild goosechase. In short, they looked completely normal, like any other young couple hopelessly in love. The young woman walking alongside her man was a small one, five-foot-three, about twenty years old, with a headful of thick, curly, somewhat unruly long auburn hair and bangs across her forehead, out from under large brown eyes peered. Her name: Cara Lovelace.
The man holding her hand was taller, about five-foot-ten with pin-straight, glossy sandy-blond hair, big, sweet light brown eyes, and an adorably dimpled smile. He was around the age of twenty-four but had a childlike air around him in his smile and the bouncy way he walked, making his mop of hair swing about his face. His name was Peter Tork. The two got up to the front door of the shop, and Cara opened the door to step inside.
"Well hi there Cara!" greeted Bill, the shop owner. He had a head of unruly brown curls and a scruffy beard on his face and wore a pair of green tinted granny glasses over his dark eyes. "I thought you were off today, I didn't have you scheduled."
"Yeah, I'm off today," said Cara, starting to look through things perched on the shelves. "Just looking for a birthday present for Abigail. Her birthday's today and we're having a surprise party for her."
"Yeah, you and Jane can come on by," said Peter, nearly dropping a Bob Dylan record out of its sleeve that he was holding. "Whoops…"
"Will do," said Bill, brushing off Peter's clumsiness. "Hey Jane! We're going to Abigail's birthday party today!"
"Oh, sounds great!" said Jane, stumbling out of the back room. She had quit her job at the sandwich shop to work at Psychedelic Psycho with her now-fiancé Bill. She was even smaller than Cara, with shorter brunette hair and big, bright blue eyes.
"But don't tell her, it's a surprise!" said Peter quickly and knocking a small shelf of incense clean off its rack.
"Oh man Pete," said Bill, his face in his hands. "I love ya man, but why don't you stand a little closer to your lady?"
"Sorry…" said Peter, looking and sounding like a guilty child as he scooted in closer to Cara who looked at him with a sarcastic glance.
"So, I'm just gonna have a look around," said Cara, taking special care to keep a watch on her clumsy boyfriend, who had gone back to the counter to talk to Bill.
"So how's the business been, Bill?" asked Peter.
"Can't complain," said Bill. "My life has been on the up and up all this time man, Jane is a winner of a lady, man."
"Oh boy is she…" said Peter, remembering the terrible time he had when Jane was hopelessly in love with him. Boy had she changed…for the better, and more than once too, Peter recalled.
"Yeah, she is," said Bill dreamily, not noticing Peter's referencing. "So how's it going with Cara? Ya know, after all you went through to get her!"
"Man, everything's just groovy!" said Peter. He looked around a couple times to make sure Cara wasn't looking; she was checking out some jewelry with Jane. "Check this out!" he whispered. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a small jewelry box, complete with a diamond ring inside.
"Oh, no way man!" exclaimed Bill. "When are you gonna do it?"
"Today at the party," said Peter, putting the ring back into his pocket. "Gotta say though, I'm nervous…any pointers so I don't…you know…blow it?"
"Take a deep breath in," said Bill. Peter breathed in and puffed out his chest—"strut right up to her!" Peter stomped his foot into the ground and nearly lost his footing—"And don't fall over when you go on one knee." Peter nodded, still trying to hold his breath in.
"Peter, what are you doing?" asked Cara coming over with Jane. "Your face is turning blue!"
Peter finally let his breath out, nearly falling backwards in the process. "Oh, hey Cara, I didn't see you there!" said Peter when he caught his breath.
"Peter, I came in with you silly," said Cara. "Whatever, come on, I got a nice turquoise necklace for Abigail, let's get going to see if the boys need help getting things together." As the two walked out, Bill gave Peter a thumbs-up in encouragement that Peter returned. Yep, Peter thought, today was definitely going to be the day!
Meanwhile, back at the beachside pad where Peter lived with his three roommates/bandmates (their band, of course, was called The Monkees), a party was being put together. These other three guys were named Davy Jones, Mike Nesmith, and Micky Dolenz. In the living room area, Davy was trying strenuously to attach streamers and ribbons to the lower parts of the ceiling. Davy was the shortest of the four and had lots of dark brown hair and big dark eyes overlooked by a pair of thick eyebrows on his round baby face, which had an expression of exasperation as he kept trying to jump up to reach his target. His roommate, Mike, walked over with a condescending expression.
"Oh, come on Davy, man, what are you doing?" he asked with a Texas drawl, exasperated.
"Aw, come on Mike," said Davy with a heavy Manchester accent. "If ya just gimme one more try, I know I can get this up there!" Davy gave a last, whole-hearted jump, but to no avail.
"Oh, gimme that," said Mike, snatching the decorations away from Davy and pinning them up with ease. Mike was obviously much taller than Davy by a landslide. He was very skinny as well, but made up for it with his handsome face with chocolaty eyes, a thick head of black hair, and a little green knit wool cap perched on his head. "Davy, why don't you work a little closer to the ground?"
"Hey, that's not funny you know, I'm very sensitive to my height!" said Davy. "Speaking of sensitive, where's Peter at?"
"He went to Psychedelic Psycho with Cara to get Abigail a birthday present," said Micky, who came out of the kitchen virtually covered in flour and icing. Micky had a mop of hair that flopped over his face, and when it wasn't covered in flour, was brown, and he had a pair of deep-set brown eyes. "Man, who thought baking a cake could be this hard? Easy Bake Oven my ass…"
"Wait, Micky, you're baking Abigail's cake in an Easy Bake Oven?" asked Davy. "You must be joking!"
"Nah I'm not joking, I really did," said Micky.
"But why?" asked Davy.
"Well, cause I thought it's be easy," said Micky, shrugging.
"But I don't understand," said Mike. "Why do we even have an Easy Bake Oven, that's a little girls' toy!"
"I think Peter bought it," said Micky.
"Yeah, that'd explain it," said Davy.
"Well aside from the mess it really did turn out all right," said Micky, putting a hand on Mike's shoulder, sending a pouf of flour everywhere.
"Don't do that," said Mike with a miffed expression. Micky quickly withdrew his hand. With that came a knock on the door, and in came Peter and Cara.
"Hey guys, how'd gift shopping go?" asked Mike.
"Not so bad," said Cara putting the store-wrapped gift on the table. "Geez, Micky, what the hell happened to you?"
"Yeah Mick, you better get yourself cleaned up before Abigail and Cara's parents get here," said Peter. "You wait here, I'll go get the hose!"
Mike caught Peter before he was able to run off to the back. "No Peter, you are not getting the dang hose, Micky can clean himself up."
"Yeah Micky," said Cara, checking her watch. "I'd say you have about an hour to pull yourself together before my parents bring Abigail here at six. What the hell were you doing anyway?"
"Well…" said Micky, embarrassed now. "I kinda used Peter's Easy Bake Oven to bake the cake in…"
"Oh, you did!" exclaimed Peter, his eyes lighting up. "How was it?"
"How do ya think, Pete?" asked Micky as he headed upstairs to shower and change.
"Not too bad, right?" Peter called up to his friend upstairs. Cara giggled and gave Peter a peck on the cheek before heading upstairs herself. Peter smiled brightly as he watched her climb the stairs.
"Easy Bake Oven, seriously?" said Davy once Cara was gone. "You gotta be kidding yourself, mate."
"We gotta use a real oven next time," said Mike. "So…you gonna do it today?"
"Do it…oh! Yeah, that," said Peter, taking the ring out of his pocket again.
"Man, that's something," said Davy. "You're taking a page out of my book, you are!"
"Gee, I'm glad you think so Davy!" said Peter. "What about you and Abigail?"
"Nah, she's too young still," said Davy. "Only nineteen today, gotta wait."
"Smart thinking from the guy who used to fall in love every day," said Mike. Getting a glimpse of Peter's ring, he had to fight back a feeling of jealousy. Maybe it was because Peter, the dummy, was getting the girl of his dreams while the girl of Mike's dreams not so long ago turned out to be a psychotic hitman who aided Cara's ex-boyfriend Jeff in a kidnapping and attempted-murder spree. Talk about your bad luck… "Well good luck Shotgun," said Mike, patting Peter on the back and walking to the couch. Micky and Cara came bounding down the stairs a little bit later Cara and wrapped her arms around Peter.
"Ya know, we still have some time to kill," she whispered into his ear.
"What…oh, yeah we sure do!" said Peter, catching on to Cara's hint. He led her back upstairs, followed by catcalls and assorted comments from the other three.
"Now be safe and don't catch a cold, children!" called Micky in a concerned old lady voice.
"Wrap it up!" shouted Mike, getting straight to the point. Cara and Peter laughed, but ignored it. Those boys sure were a group of goofs!
Once they were in Peter's room, Peter said, "So how do you suppose we kill all this time?"
"Oh, come on Peter," said Cara. "Now, I know you're not as dull as the others make you out to be!"
"Oh, you're right about that," said Peter. He kissed her deeply, and during that he carefully took the ring out of his pocket and hid it so Cara wouldn't see or feel it. Kisses from both of them went from lips to necks as Peter slowly lowered Cara to the bed. Her hands weaved through his hair and Peter was very very happy for this time to kill.
After a while of blissful love, the two lay next to each other, exhausted, but satisfied. "You do know that we're gonna have to get up soon to be ready for Abigail," said Peter.
"Peter dear, after what you did to me, I'm gonna be lucky if I can get up, let alone walk for two weeks," Cara said. She affectionately snuggled Peter when he chuckled triumphantly. Of course, as if on cue, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of Abigail and Cara's parents. "But I guess I'm going to have to try now…" They got dressed and made their way to the top of the stairs when they saw the lights were still off as Cara's parents led Abigail through the pad.
Peter made special care that the ring was safe and sound in his pocket. "Hey, Cara?" he asked quietly.
"Yes?" asked Cara.
"I love you," said Peter, thinking about how her face would look later on today when he asked her to be his wife.
"I love you too, Peter," said Cara with a wide smile on her face, eyes glimmering.
Just then, Mike switched the lights on, and everyone, including Bill and Jane, who came by sometime when Peter and Cara were…having their fun, jumped out from behind their hiding places and shouted, "Surprise!" Peter and Cara rushed down the stairs to join everybody.
Abigail jumped in shock, but her face softened into a smile as she came to her senses. Abigail was a beautiful young woman, but she ought to be because she was a model. She had yellow-blonde hair cut into a pixie cut, large green eyes, and she was tall and curvy. Her boyfriend Davy was of course the shortest man in the room (Jane was shortest overall) and the height difference was made very clear when he came up to her to kiss her. "Happy birthday love!" he said.
"Oh, you all are wonderful!" exclaimed Abigail. "Whose idea was this?"
"Davy and I brainstormed together," said Cara, coming up to greet her best friend. "Happy birthday! Oh, and Mom, Dad, thanks for bringing her!"
"No problem Cara dear," said Mrs. Lovelace, a red haired woman with horn-rimmed glasses.
"It's a treat to come here and see your friends," said Mr. Lovelace, a darker haired man, tall and thin. He nodded at Peter; Mr. Lovelace knew what Peter was planning to do later. Peter responded with a sheepish, yet somehow confident grin.
"Well I suppose we better get on with the festivities," said Mike. "Micky, where's that cake you made?"
"In the kitchen, I'll go and get it," said Micky.
"It better be good, with all the mess it made," said Davy. "Ya know Abigail, your birthday cake was made in Peter's bloody Easy Bake Oven!"
"Oh, an Easy Bake!" exclaimed Abigail. "Oh, I have one of those! Oh Peter, aren't they just the best!"
"Easy Bake always makes the best!" said Peter.
"Oh boy, two of a kind," said Davy. "Well, at least you'll like the cake."
"Got it!" called Micky, prancing out of the kitchen holding a medium-sized cake on a platter. "Bon appetite!" He finished in a botched French accent.
"Oh, thank you everyone, this is just wonderful!" exclaimed Abigail as Davy served her a slice of cake.
"Well, just glad you like everything," said Mike. "You deserve it after all you've done for us, ya know."
"Yeah Abigail," said Bill. "You're a groovy chick!"
"You all love throwing surprise birthday parties, don't you?" asked Cara, referring to her own birthday party the boys and Abigail had thrown her before.
"Yeah, except no one's gonna almost drown this time, right Micky?" said Peter.
"You bet your ass I won't drown!" said Micky. "Whoops, sorry 'bout the cussing Mrs. Lovelace!"
"No matter Micky, you're a good kid," said Mrs. Lovelace digging into her cake. "And you cook well too!"
"Oh gosh, ma'am," said Micky, blushing.
"Hey boys, I have an idea!" said Abigail. "Why don't you get up there and play some music!" Jane nodded in agreement.
"Ya know, that ain't a bad idea," said Mike. "Come on men, tune up and let's give Miss Abigail a birthday show!" The band leapt up from their seats and up to the bandstand they had in their pad. But the boys hadn't so much as put on their instruments when the lights shut off, leaving the pad pitch black. There was a shrill scream and the sound of broken glass.
"Who turned on the dark?" Peter shouted, fumbling around.
"Oh Peter," said Davy in exasperation. In time, the lights turned back on, revealing a broken drinking glass, a shattered window, and a missing Abigail.
"Abigail!" Davy shouted and looking around frantically. "Abigail, where are you?"
"She's gone!" said the four guys in unison.
"Hey, guys, look at this," said Mike, picking up a piece of paper on the table. "It's a note!"
"Yeah, kinda sounds like a B flat," said Micky.
"Oh, come on man, this is no time to joke!" said Cara. "What does it say Mike?"
Mike cleared his throat and began to read:
"To The Monkees (or Cara also, if her bitch ass is with you):
I have broken out of jail and wish to reap my revenge on you all. You're the reason I never got my money that should have been well-earned from my last job and landed me in prison. You all must pay, and dearly. If you are reading this note, I am already on my way to Manchester, England with Jeff's little sister, who you all know to be Abigail. You can try and chase me, and more clues will be left possibly…we can make this quite an interesting game if you want.
Signed—"
"Oh God," said Mike. "It can't be, not again…"
"Well come on, who's it from?" asked Davy urgently.
"Signed, Alice Backer," moaned Mike. "Oh dear heavens, I thought we were all done with her…"
"Oh, this is terrible!" said Jane.
"Yeah guys, what are we gonna do?" asked Micky nervously.
"Well, it's simple, isn't it?" asked Davy.
"How's it so simple?" asked Cara.
Davy smiled slyly. "Well, we're all going to England mates!" With that, the boys and Cara swiftly ran off to pack.