Chapter 4- The Truth
Author's Note: The old Monkees are based on the TV Monkees, not the real actors, even though real things that the actors did are happening, (i.e. Good Times!) I just feel events like that are super important, so it should be involved not only in the lives of the actors, but in the lives of the characters as well. Enjoy!
The Monkees tapered the end of 'Daydream Believer' quite nicely, if they did say so themselves. They all looked up to see the three strangers talking in the booth. They couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were all nervous as to the outcome. It was like an audition, really. It was the audition to be the Monkees. If they failed the audition, they would never be able to go home.
"What do you think they'll do if they don't believe we're the Monkees?" Micky asked, standing and leaving the drums.
"Probably call security or tell us to get out before they do call security," Mike proposed, setting the guitar on its stand. "What I don't get is, why is it so important that we are the Monkees? What's so special about us?"
"Maybe that gypsy sent us to some alternate universe where we are rich and famous and those three old men might kick us out if we are the Monkees because they hate new music," Peter proposed, setting the bass down on its stand.
"That's absurd," Davy argued. "Why would three old men be at a recording studio if they hated new music?"
"To get paid," Micky defended. "Old people have to work too, you know."
"Sure, but in an alternate universe?" Davy questioned. "I don't believe it. How could the four of us ever become rich and famous? If we're not famous now, what's the point?"
"You've got to keep working at it, Davy. Two years isn't going make you an instant star, now is it? Besides that," Mike added. "If we happen to be in an alternate universe, that still wouldn't explain the technology we see where. This is far too advanced for 1966, no matter what universe you're in."
"How would you know?" Micky asked. "Have you visited any different universes lately? For all we know, maybe this human race is more advanced than we are."
Their discussion was cut short by the entrance of the three strangers in the studio. They all seemed nervous, as if they were preparing for death. The scruffy-looking man held a ratty old book in his arms. To Davy, the book looked familiar. He suddenly realized he left his book in the recording studio closet.
"Alright," Mike said, clearing his throat. "We believe you. You four are the Monkees."
The four young boys cheered with joy. They believed them. "What are you going to do with us?" Peter asked.
"We're going to help you," the man with the book said. "We have to."
"How are you going to help us?" Mike asked.
"We're going to do what the book tells us to do, right Pete?" The man in the fedora answered, looking to the man with the book for confirmation.
"Right," the man confirmed, opening the book. He skimmed a few pages before shutting it and looking at his friends. "This is the part where we introduce ourselves, guys."
"You must be joking, right?" Mike asked. "Do you realize what's going on here?"
"That's what the book says, Mike," The man with the book replied. "This is going to make the situation more complicated than it should be, but it needs to happen."
"What about-" The man in the fedora started, but stopped when he remembered that the Monkees were listening to the whole conversation.
"We have to tell them," The man with the book sighed. "I don't want to as much as you, but the book says we have to. I don't think they'll remember, anyway, considering we don't."
"Ahem," Micky coughed. "We're still here, you know."
"Right," The man with the book said, turning back towards the Monkees. "Introductions. My name is…" The man sighed, dreading his name. "Peter Halsten Thorkelson."
"I'm George Michael Dolenz," The man in the fedora introduced himself.
"I thought you looked familiar!" Micky blurted out. He received a look from each of the elderly men.
"And I'm Robert Michael Nesmith," Mike introduced himself. "And we're the Monkees."
The four young Monkees were speechless. They were the Monkees? Mike, Micky, and Peter each took a long time, analyzing their older selves. This was what they were going to look like when they get old? How old were these men? Were these really the Monkees? It was horrifying and extraordinary all at the same time. Davy did the same, completely in utter disbelief that his friends had aged so much. The disbelief kept him from asking the question Peter asked first, breaking their silence.
"What about Davy?" Peter asked.
"What about Davy?" Peter repeated, looking at his friends. "Who wants to start?"
"This is your idea," Mike deadpanned. "You do it."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine. You see, kids… Uh… well… Davy, he…"
"Davy's gone," Micky blurted out. "He quit the group a few years back, in 2012."
"2012?!" Mike gasped. "You mean to tell me, we're..."
"What year did you think it was?" Mike retorted. "1966?"
"Yes!" Mike replied. He quickly caught his cool. "Well, I mean, at first I thought it was. Till we found out the three of you were us."
"Well, sorry Mike, it's actually 2016," Micky said to the young guitarist.
"What happened to me?" Davy asked, ignoring the new information.
"Uh, you retired to England," Micky continued. "Living happily with your wife."
Mike and Peter gave him a glare of utter insanity. However, the four Monkees were satisfied with the lie. Hoping to not revisit the topic again, Peter jumped on a new topic. "Right, so we need to help the three of you get back to your own time, right?"
"Right," All four Monkees said in sync. Mike cocked an eyebrow, not sure if he was believing what he was seeing.
"First," Peter continued. "We need to get you out of those outfits. You can't go walking around California looking like you just came out of a 1950's movie."
"But Pete," Micky warned. "We can't just leave. We have work to do. Remember?"
"Yeah, Harry and the rest of the musicians are showing up at two. We've got a little over an hour to figure out what we're going to do with them," Mike added, running a hand through his thinning white hair.
"But we can't just let them run loose, now can we?" Peter said, adjusting his glasses.
"You could," Mike suggested. "We're flat broke, though. Our boss wasn't going to pay us till after we finished the gig."
"Which looks like it may be never," Micky added. "But you can trust us! I mean, we are you after all."
The three elderly Monkees looked at each other, each silently arguing the proposition. After a moment, Mike sighed. "Look, we don't want any of you getting hurt or lost. This isn't 1966 anymore. You're 50 years into the future. You might see and hear some stuff you shouldn't be exposed to."
"But you really need us to blend in," Davy added, defending the case of the young Monkees. "Letting us loose while you work will give us a chance to not only get clothes, but it will let us embrace the new culture and act like we belong here."
"But still…" Mike scratched his head, still not liking the idea.
"Come on, Mike, let us go play!" Micky asked. He dropped to his knees and shuffled over to the old man, begging, "Please, please, please, please, please, please, PPPLLLLLEEEEEEAAAAASSSSSEEEE?"
"Fine!" Mike blurted out, easily unraveled by the young man's childish behavior.
Micky stood up and grinned. He turned to his friends and snickered, "Works every time."
"Does not!" Mike growled.
"Does too," Micky laughed.
Micky pulled out a credit card and handed it to his younger self. However, before Micky could grab it, Micky changed his mind, walking over and handing it to Mike. "I think this would be safer with you. There will be this small computer that you'll stick this into at the cash register. Make sure the little chip goes in first. Sometimes you might have to swipe it. Run it as credit. If needed, the pin is 9847." Mike nodded, taking the card and putting it in his empty wallet. "I'll show you boys out." The young Monkees followed the old Monkee out of the studio, leaving Mike and Peter alone.
"I feel like I just made a terrible mistake," Mike commented, he and Peter both watching the door close.
"Because you just let our younger selves loose and they might find out that Davy's really dead out there?" Peter asked.
"That, and the fact that they're going to be pissed when they find out that we lied to them."
"Well, we didn't lie to them, Micky did."
"We didn't stop him."
"Good point."
"Did the book change at all?" Mike asked.
Peter moved to open the book, but it wouldn't open. Startled, he tugged on the cover again. He tried a few more times before handing it over to Mike. Mike tried to open it as well, but it wouldn't open. "Uh oh." Peter said, taking the book back.
"We're screwed, aren't we?"
"Yep."
