~PART III: FORGET THAT GIRL~
Peter chuckled to himself at the memory. If he thought hard enough, he could still feel the burning sensation the sidewalk gifted him with on that particular day. The song faded out, springing into the familiar tune of, 'Forget That Girl.' Suddenly the bedroom door opened and Peter's wife reemerged, running over and stopping the record player momentarily.
"Peter, Dr. Robert is here to see you." She said as calmly as she could. He could tell she was worried sick over something, but Peter let it pass.
"Alright, dear. Send him in." Peter cringed at how raw his voice sounded. "But dear?"
"Yes?" She asked.
"The record player, turn it back to, 'Forget That Girl,' will you please?" Peter closed his eyes, waiting for the song to play.
"Of course, my love." His wife said. After a few moments of awkward silence, the song started back up again, Peter loosing himself in the sound of an old friend's voice.
"Forget that girl, she'll only make you sad someday. Forget that girl, she'll never make you happy…"
"Davy? Davy!" Peter yelled. They had a gig in an hour and the short, English member of their band was nowhere to be found. He, Mike, and Micky had checked the beach, the pad, and now they were searching the town. The sky was grey and they all had a feeling a storm was brewing inside the clouds. Rumor went around saying that this was going to be the biggest storm since 1966.
"Davy!" Mike yelled. They were all wearing their blue, eight-button uniforms. Mike whipped his wool hat off of his head and ran a hand through his hair. "This is bad. If he's not at the gig, we'll be fired for sure."
"It can't be that bad, Mike," Micky said. "I mean, we can always tell them Davy's sick."
"No, that won't fly. The only reason we were hired in the first place was because the owner's daughter liked Davy."
"Davy!" Peter yelped, pointing towards the park they were passing. They all looked over to see the midget in blue lying on a picnic blanket, reading a newspaper.
"Davy!" Micky and Mike joined in. They all ran over to him, skidding to a halt before they could trample him. They all stood over him, but the Englishman was not paying attention.
"Davy!" They all yelled in sync. However, the boy was too busy reading the paper.
"Davy?" Peter asked.
"Da-vy." Micky sang.
"Davy!" Mike yelled.
Finally Davy jumped, snapping out of his daze. He looked up at his bandmates, confused. "Fellas? What are you doing here? Charlotte is supposed to be here any minute now."
"Well, we have a gig we have to be at any minute now, and we need you to be there." Mike scolded.
"The gig!" Davy slapped his forehead. "I had completely forgotten about that!" Davy sighed. "Jeez, I'm sorry fellas."
"You forgot about the gig? Even though you're wearing the shirt we were supposed to wear tonight?" Micky asked.
"Not to mention I outright told you we had a gig tonight!" Mike joined in. Mike continued to lecture the boy, but Peter wasn't listening.
"Uh…" Peter said, tugging on Mike's shirt sleeve.
"Not now, Peter." Mike said as he continued to lecture Davy.
"Guys?" Peter said again, his eyes fixed on a couple across the street. The other three snapped out of it and looked at Peter.
"What is it, Pete?" Micky asked.
"Davy, is that Charlotte over there?" Peter asked, pointing towards the couple. Davy jumped up off the ground to see. When he saw the couple, his face fell and he flopped back down onto the picnic blanket.
"Oh man…" Micky moaned, sitting down next to him.
"I'm sorry, Davy." Mike said, sitting next to Davy as well.
"Why is she with him?" Peter asked, sitting down as well.
"How should I know?" Davy sighed, flopping onto his back, heartbroken.
"Hey man, don't dwell on it. It's not healthy." Mike said, pulling Davy back into a sitting position.
"Yeah," Micky said, putting a hand on Davy's shoulder. "Forget that girl."
"Even though you find it's hard." Peter sang. Davy smiled at Peter's reference. Mike and Micky joined in.
"Forget that girl," Micky said again.
"Even though you love her!" Mike sang, making Davy laugh when he sang 'her' far too high.
"She's in love with him, my friend, she's in love with him. Oh yeah, she's in love with him..." The three sang in their best mock-Davy impression. A small ray of sunlight shone through the dark clouds as Davy laughed at them, the heartbreak somewhat subsiding.
"You ready to go to work now, Davy?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, I think I am." Davy smiled shyly. "Let's go."
"Here, we'll help you pack up." Peter offered, moving the picnic basket off the blanket. The four Monkees cleaned up the picnic and walked off, ready to do what they did best; make music.
