Chapter 7- The Phone Call

"Alright, groovy!" Micky said, rubbing his hands in an evil manner. Mike opened the front door to Peter's modest, but extravagant house. The four Monkees could only dream of living in such a place. "Let's go explore!"

"Wait just a minute buster," Mike stopped him, grabbing onto his shoulder and pulling him back. "We've got to think this through, first. When we go in there, we've got to be cool and collect. We need to act like we're not children and excited to see all the things 2016 has in store for us inside Peter's house."

"Psst," Micky waved at him. "How is HE going to know?"

"I'm standing right here!" Peter gasped. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"Sorry Pete," Micky apologized. "I was talking about the old you."

"Doesn't matter," Peter reasoned. "What if I remember you going through all my stuff?"

"Ah," Davy said, holding up a finger. "I'm not sure time travel works that way." Mike, Micky, and Peter gave Davy an odd look. It was Davy's time to seem smart. "Well, you see, the old yous don't seem to remember any of this, so obviously they all have forgotten this event. Kind of like destiny is making sure that your experience is the same every time it happens."

"But it's only going to happen once," Micky said.

"No," Mike said, stopping Micky. "Twice. The first time that we do it and the second time that they do it. That makes sense. Not a lot of sense, but it makes sense." Davy smiled, happy to know Mike was on his side. "Anyway, let's get inside before anyone grows suspicious." Mike pushed everyone inside and shut the door.

All the Monkees were in awe at the interior of the house. It was clean, it was cool, and it was extraordinary. They could easily identify each room, and it was apparent Peter didn't spend much time here. They first cautiously ventured into the living room area that was on their right. A giant screen hung from the wall, and three small couches sat in front of it in a square shape. In the middle was a coffee table with a few pointless magazines and a remote on it. In the corner was a book case, surrounded by various alive and fake plants. Paintings of family and friends hung from the wall. Or, well, they could only assume it was family and friends, since the only person they recognized was Peter. Peter and Mike studied the framed photographs of Peter's history, while Micky browsed the bookshelf. Davy had wandered into the kitchen, studying all of the fancy, high-tech appliances.

"Who do you think all these people are, Pete?" Mike asked.

"I don't know, I assume that might be one of my kids," Peter said, pointing to a photograph where he was holding a baby.

"Peter, you have kids?" Micky asked, leaving the bookshelf to look at the pictures as well. "Hey, how come we're not up here?"

"Don't get all riled up, Micky, this isn't the only room in the house," Mike scolded, looking at a framed picture of Peter with three younger adults. "We're probably in here somewhere."

"Hey, Peter! I wonder where you keep all your instruments," Micky said, beginning to wander down the nearest hallway. Mike and Peter quickly followed, both forgetting about Davy and his whereabouts.


Davy had his head in the refrigerator, looking at their options for dinner later on. He closed the door to the refrigerator, keeping in mind all of his options as he began looking through the cupboards and drawers. As he was looking, however, something caught his eye. On one of the counter tops sat a small book. Naturally curious, Davy walked over and took a closer look. It was an address book.

Davy opened the address book, promising himself just one look. He wouldn't meddle with his future. He just simply wanted to know who was in Peter's address book. Frankly, Davy thought that they would have made a more efficient way to store contacts, but having an address book at his disposal was a miracle he wasn't going to pass up. He opened it and immediately flipped it to the J's.

"Just a peak, to see if he can actually get a hold of me," Davy thought to himself, looking at the contacts under J. "Jessica, Davy's wife. Sarah, Davy's daughter. Talia, Davy's daughter. Annabel, Davy's daughter. Another Jessica who is my daughter. He's got a lot of family in here, but where am I?" Davy flipped through the J's, not finding his name at all. Davy frowned. What happened to them? What would make Peter want to keep in contact with his family, but not him? His curiosity had reached a peak. He looked around the room for a telephone. On the opposite wall sat a small, rectangular object. Davy quickly walked over to see what it was. When he realized that it was probably a phone, he grabbed the address book and dialed the first number he saw, which happened to be the number of one Sarah Lee Jones. Davy quickly prepared the conversation in his head.

"Hello?" Davy will say when someone picks up. "Is this Sarah Jones?"

"Yes it is," The woman on the other end will say. "Dad, what are you doing calling from Peter's house?"

"Ah, well, you see Sarah, I am over visiting with him and he lost my phone number. Now, I don't know it by heart, so I was hoping you could give it to me so I can give it to him."

"Oh, sure Dad. It's…" Sarah would give Davy the number. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Sarah, thank you!" Davy would say before hanging up.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the phone said, "Uncle Peter?"

"No," Davy said, clearing his throat. "This is, uh, this is your father, Sarah." Davy could only assume it was her.

The girl on the other end suddenly laughed. "Alright, alright, obviously this is Micky. What's up, Uncle Micky?"

"No, this isn't Micky," Davy said, awfully confused. "This is Davy Jones."

Sarah gave a nervous laugh from her end of the phone call. "No, it's not. That's impossible. Now tell me who you are or I'm hanging up and calling my friend because there is a stranger in his house."

"No, Sarah, listen to me! I am Davy Jones! Honest! Why would your own father lie to you?" Davy said. Why would a father lie to a daughter he has never met before?

There was silence for a moment. Then Sarah asked, "You're really Davy Jones?"

"Yes, I am!" Davy smiled, happy.

"You can't be," Sarah said, completely sober with a hint of fear in her voice.

"Don't I sound like, him?" Davy asked. "And from where I am standing, I really do look like him. Why don't you believe me, Sarah?"

"You do sound like him," Sarah's voice was obviously shaking from over the phone. "That's the problem, isn't it?" Suddenly there was a click and silence.

"Hello?" Davy asked. No one answered. "Hello? Sarah?" It was apparent that she had hung up on him. Frowning, Davy hung up the phone. "Well, that didn't go as planned."

"Davy!" Micky yelled from the other room. "Get over here, we've found Peter's music room!"


"Maybe can we have a little more bass here?" Peter asked. They were all listening to 'Me and Magdalena's' instrumental track. "It's sounds a little weak there." Mike agreed with Peter's claim and the two of them began discussing what they could do to strengthen the sound.

That was when Micky's phone went off. Micky casually pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked to see who was calling. A frown appeared on his face. He quickly excused himself and went into the hall to answer the phone. "Sarah? What's up?"

"Uncle Micky!" Sarah gasped. "Something weird is going on here!"

"What do you mean, Sarah?" Micky asked.

"I…" Sarah took another big breath, trying to calm herself down. "I just got a phone call from my father!"

"You what?!" Micky asked. "That's impossible!"

"It was definitely him, and it definitely scared me!" Sarah said quickly. "He called from Uncle Peter's house number. I thought it was him calling, but the man insisted he was my dad! He sounded exactly like him!"

"Now Sarah, calm down," Micky said coolly. "Would you like me to go get Peter so you can tell him yourself?"

"No, I think you should call the police! Either Dad is haunting Peter's house, or someone broke into his house and is doing a very good job of scaring me!" Sarah sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"Now Sarah, it's nothing to be worried about," Micky said, trying to think up a clever lie. "I'm going to go ask Peter about it right now, stay on the line." Micky took the phone away from his face and cursed. He quietly opened the studio door and asked for Peter and Mike to come out into the hallway for a second.

"What's going on?" Mike asked once they were alone.

"Davy called Sarah, and now she's freaking out. She thinks your house is haunted, Pete!" Micky explained.

"Davy called her?!" Peter exclaimed. "How stupid are those kids?!"

"Hey, don't bring us into this!" Mike tried to joke, but it fell flat.

"Let me talk to her," Peter demanded, holding out his hand. Micky gave him the phone. "Hey, Sarah? This is Peter, I've got Micky and Mike with me. I'm going to put you on speaker phone and I want you to tell me everything that happened, okay? Breathe, Sarah." Peter put the phone on speaker. "We're ready, Sarah."

"Well, I was sitting at dinner with my family when my phone rang. It said it was from you, so I answered it. The guy on the other end said he was my father. At first I thought it was Uncle Micky playing a joke on me, but the man was dead serious! He would not stop saying that he was my dad! The worst part is, he did a really good job at it. He really did sound like my dad! Uncle Peter, I think your house is haunted. No one can possibly pull off a good impression of my dad."

"Alright," Peter said, looking at Micky and Mike with silent panic. "There is a perfectly logical explanation for this, Sarah."

"What?" Sarah asked, "What is this perfectly logical explanation for giving me a heart attack?"

"Well," Peter began, "Micky is a very good actor, that's all."Micky's eyes widened with betrayal as Mike held back his surprise. "Mike bet him twenty bucks he couldn't pull off a good Davy. They needed to see if it was really believable. I guess you win, Mick." It was Mike's turn to show his disapproval and betrayal.

"It was a joke?" Sarah asked, hurt. She grunted into the phone. "If you're going to play a cruel joke like that again, call Jessica or one of her kids, not me!" Angrily she hung up the phone. The three men stood in the silence of the hall for a moment.

"Well, that happened," Mike said.

"Does this mean I get twenty bucks?" Micky asked. Mike punched the old man in the shoulder. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding…"

"We can't have Davy calling people," Peter said sternly, handing Micky back his phone. "I'm afraid of who else he has tried to call."

"He might be trying to get a hold of himself," Mike theorized. "Which is impossible."

"One of us is going to have to tell him the truth," Peter frowned. "That's the only way we'll get him to stop."

"It's going to break his heart," Micky whined. "Not only because he's dead, but because we lied the first time."

"I know, but he needs to find out. I think we can continue to keep it from the others, but Davy has the right to know," Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Who is going to tell him?"

"I think you should, Pete," Mike deadpanned. "They are living in your house at the moment."

"I agree with Mike," Micky quickly added, making sure that he wasn't an option. "You're good with that kind of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?!" Peter exclaimed. "I have never had to tell anyone that they died before!"

"You know what we mean," Micky defended. "You're the sensitive one, Mike's the angry one-"

"Hey!" Mike interrupted.

"And I'm the crazy one," Micky finished, ignoring Mike. "So it is only right that you tell him."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll do it. Come on, we've got work to do."