Chapter 2- One Down
Davy, Peter, and Micky held Michael close, for at the rate he was crying, he couldn't possibly keep himself upright. After several long moments, Mike quickly sobered up, saying they should probably start eating the cake. They all agreed, especially Micky, and gathered around the table. Peter suggested they listened to an album, and they all agreed. Davy handed Peter his album and Peter popped it onto the record player. The cake-eating portion of the day ended in a disaster that would take a while to clean up.
"So Mike, will we ever see that again?" Micky questioned, popping a large piece of cake into his mouth.
"See what?"
"You balling like a baby." Micky replied. Davy and Peter both gave him a look, pleading not to cross that line with Mike. They were too late.
Suddenly, Micky's face was coated in green frosting and chunks of chocolate and spice cake. Micky wiped his eyes free while he licked the layers around his mouth. He then ran over to Mike, rubbing his frosted hands onto his face. Davy and Peter quickly stood up and ran to the other side of the room and watched as Mary, Mary turned Mike and Micky's food fight into a classic Monkees' romp. When Micky planted Mike's face into the cake, Davy and Peter finally decided to break it up, just as Your Auntie Grizelda ended. Peter grabbed Mike as Davy grabbed Micky, dragging them to opposite ends of the room, keeping them far away from the cake.
"Wow Mike, I didn't know you had it in you." Peter said, handing Mike a towel.
Without second thoughts, Mike slapped a handful of frosting onto Peter's face, replying. "Now what made you think I didn't?" He turned and cocked an eyebrow at Micky, who made eye contact and nodded, proceeding to place some cake onto the short Englishman who had just returned to him with a towel.
A knock on the door interrupted their shenanigans. Mike quickly wiped his face and discarded his cake-drenched wool hat and raced to check to see who as at the door. He opened the hatch to the door. He whole attitude suddenly sobered as he slipped out the door, closing it behind him.
"Mike? Davy asked. He looked to his band mates, all of their attitudes sober. "I wonder who's out there."
Micky tossed the towel on the ground, his face still sticky. He crossed his arms. "That's not like Michael." He wiggled his nose. His face was beginning to feel weird from the stickiness.
"What do you want?" Michael asked BabyFace Morales.
"You know."
"Oh well," said Micky, "Maybe it's just Babbitt or someone, but I'm going to have a shower." He then disappeared into the bathroom. Davy and Peter went to get mops and brooms to clean up the second cake they had destroyed that day.
"I hope this doesn't become a trend," muttered Davy, but Peter didn't hear him. He was staring at the door, waiting for Mike to come back in.
"Who do you think he's talking to?" asked Peter.
Davy shrugged, "As Micky said, it's probably Babbit, or maybe it's Millie wishing him happy birthday."
"But if it was Millie then she would have come in to tell you as well, Davy," Peter worried.
"I thought Micky asked you how you could be optimistic all of the time earlier, Pete! Now you're the complete opposite! Just give Mike some privacy," Davy complained. Micky came out of the bathroom and Davy went in to have his, just as Micky picked up the broom to keep cleaning, Mike stormed back in, looking upset.
"Who was that Mike?" Micky queried.
"You!" Mike snapped. Peter flinched.
"What?" asked Micky.
Mike took a deep breath and smiled (Peter thought it looked forced). "Oh, it was just some person selling vacuum cleaners," Mike explained. Micky and Peter stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then Davy came out of the shower.
"'Ey! Mike's back!" laughed Davy. "Now nobody smash any more cakes from now on!" Mike laughed at that and everything seemingly returned to normal. Peter didn't believe when Mike said it was nothing, and was determined to find out the truth, but Mike and the others were all ready to have a good time, so Peter decided he wouldn't question Mike until the next night.
The rest of the night went smoothly for the boys. They eventually got around to listening to all three albums, and Davy successfully prevented another cake disaster when Micky set Mike over the edge again. It was about 7:23pm when three of the four Monkees passed out almost randomly among the pad. Davy swung mindlessly in the hammock as Mike snored blissfully on the couch. Micky seemed to be the only one sensible enough to sleep in a bed, even though it was Davy's. Peter sat at the table, watching his roommates sleep, swimming in memories of pirates, Russian agents, and evil song producers.
There was a soft tap on the front door, but Peter heard it. He stood up and walked over to the door, wondering who could be out at this hour. All the same though, he opened the flap to the door to see who it was. It was a woman. She had long, blond hair with rosy cheeks that complimented her chocolate brown eyes. She peered up at Peter through the hole. Peter couldn't resist the helpless look in her eyes. He opened the door, asking what he could do for the woman. She grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him down to her level, and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. When she released the bass player, he wobbled, unsure what just happened. However, by the smirk on the girl's face. It obviously wasn't good. Suddenly, Peter's whole world went dark.
Davy woke up and tried to roll over, only to find himself fall out of the hammock, which woke him right up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Forgot where I was," he muttered to himself.
Somehow the loud noise of falling off the hammock hadn't woken the others up, so he looked at his watch to see that it was about 4am. He was hungry, so he made himself a sandwich. He could see Mike sleeping on the couch and wondered where Micky and Peter were.
He grabbed his sandwich and munched on it pleasingly as he wandered into his bedroom. Davy intended on getting into his own bed once he finished the sandwich in three bites. He soon found out where Micky was when he attempted to get into his bed. He should have turned the lights on.
"Ow! Hey man, what are you doing?!" complained Micky groggily when Davy sat on him.
"What am I doing?" whispered the Englishman. "What are you doing in me bed?!"
"Your bed?" asked Micky, confused,"I thought it was Mike's."
"What does that matter? Sleep in your own bed Mick!" Davy complained loudly, before quickly covering his mouth. "Oops, shouldn't speak too loudly, we'll wake Mike. He's out on the couch."
Micky sat up and looked over to Peter's bed. "Then where is Peter? Mike's downstairs, you and I are up here, where's Pete?"
Davy stood up and turned the light on. "You're right, he's not 'ere is he? He wasn't downstairs when I woke up."
"Maybe he is out on the beach. What time is it?" Micky asked.
"Four." Davy replied before they both rushed downstairs, somehow quietly as not to wake Mike, before heading out onto the porch and onto the beach. Unfortunately, Peter was not on the beach, he was somewhere much less pleasant...
