The Young Ones Monkees
By Melisssa
Part Four: A Room Of My Own

Night was coming . . .
"Ya know, Mike," Rick said with a snort, "you could do a really dirty joke about the night cuming."
"Shut up, Rick," Mike replied. Both turned back to the television.
Night was falling quickly on the crowded beach house. The evening had been spent in relative silence. Relative to say a horde of starving dinosaurs fighting for the last elk in the herd while being attacked by the US air force amidst the Big Bang, it had been very quiet. The evening began with the usual screaming, moaning and swearing, but the fun didn't begin until Mike turned the TV off. Aside from the hollering, the fighting, the screaming, the ranting, the smashing, the yelling, the swearing and the occasional explosion, it was a tranquil evening. Thankfully, "tranquility" was put to rest when the telly came back on. The ill-tempered eight sat huddled around the set as though its light were their lifeline, for without it they would have to talk to each other. Talking, however, inevitably led to hollering, fighting, screaming, ranting, smashing, yelling, swearing and the occasional explosion. At the moment, the only sound came from the television.
". . . ha, ha, ha. Thanks Bill," said the woman on the screen. "If you have enjoyed this terrific programing, please call and make a pledge, because without your support we here at W.A.N.K. can't continue to bring you quality programming like this. Any pledge you could make would of course be appreciated, but at the higher levels we offer these special gifts. At the $500 level you'll receive this great one of a kind key chain with our station's logo 'I'm A W.A.N.K.er!' on it, and for a pledge of only $3500 you'll receive a video of tonight's outstanding presentation 'Dwane Dibbley Sings For Loose Change'. Now I'm just going to turn you over to the head of W.A.N.K., my boss O.W.A. Giveaway and . . ."
It was then that the voice ceased. No one could say exactly why, but the consensus seemed to be that it was because Vyvyan had put his foot through the screen several times.
"Hey man, why'd you do that?" asked Mike angrily. His voice lacked it's usual confidence probably due to his previous encounter with a chair.
"I had to shut that bitch up!" Vyvyan answered.
"Yeah, what's it to you? Ya fascist!" Rick added, standing. "God, public television. All they ever do is beg you for money which they just use to put out crap and British comedy and let's face it, one doesn't have far to go to become the other. Well," he addressed remnants of the TV, "you're not getting my hard earned bread for your fascist regime! That's why I'm an anarchist," he concluded.
"The only time you ever have any bread, Rick, is when you steal it from me," said Neil.
"That is simply not true!"
"Yes it is," Vyvyan interjected. "Just the other day you said to me 'Look how much money I nicked from under Neil's bed!'"
"Yes and what happened then?" Rick asked.
"I said, 'Is that all you got?' and you said, 'yes'."
"And then?" Rick prompted.
Vyvyan smiled. "I took it from you!"
"Exactly, so . . ." Rick began.
"Be that as it may," continued Mike, "that was our television."
"It's still your television. It's just in a few more pieces now that it was," said the other Mike.
"Couldn't he have just turned it off?" Micky asked.
"I did!" answered Vyvyan.
"No you didn't," Micky told him, "you put your foot through it."
"Several times. I saw it all," added Davy.
"Well it's off isn't it!?" shouted Vyvyan.
"You quibble over terms," Mike said, "I'm going to bed. By the way," he added pausing, "where are our rooms? I'd better get mine ready for all the beautiful women who want to ride the Mike-express, and I don't mean the last train to Clarksville."
Davy, Mike, Peter and Micky exchanged glances. None of them wanted to tell the others the bad news or imagine what havoc it could wreak. After a fierce staring contest, a decision was made. "Peter," said the other three decisively.
"Me?" Peter asked in near horror.
"'Fraid so, man" said Micky.
"You can do it, good buddy," added Mike.
"Yeah, we're all behind you," Davy said taking a few steps back.
"What is it?" Neil questioned.
"Well," Peter began, "It's like this . . . uh . . . ya see . . ."
"Just spit it out, will you?" Rick said impatiently.
Peter took a deep breath. "We've only got two rooms," he said and took up a stance as though he expected something to fly across the room and hit him. Luckily, nothing did.
"Heavy," said Neil.
"Wait just a minute. Do you men to tell me there's only two rooms for the four of us?" Mike asked incredulously.
Before Peter could reply Vyvyan suddenly shouted, "Oh no! Bags not Rick!"
"Bags not Vyv!" Rick shouted in return.
"Bags not . . . Neil," Neil said, somewhat confused.
"No, no, no! You misunderstand," Mike interjected.
"I thought so," replied his shorter counterpart with more than a little relief in his voice.
"There's only two rooms for the eight of us," Mike explained.
"Oh no!" shouted Neil. "Hea-Vy! This is like sixteen-ton-weight heavy! What are we gonna do Mike?"
"Relax Neil, Mike TheCoolPerson will think of something." Following this statement there was a brief pause. This was followed by a long pause which was in turn followed by a bloody great pause. Before another could creep it's way into the conversation, Rick spoke up.
"Well, Mike? What are we going to do?" he asked looking as though he wanted to cry.
"Wait Rick, I'm thinking."
"If we wait for that we could be standing here all night," Davy said, smirking.
"Look, it's very simple," Mike addressed Mike. "We four can share one room and you four take the other."
"The four of us share a room? What, are are we living in the third world?" Rick asked. "Is this the deepest rain forest in Africa, never touched by civilized man?"
"What choice do we have?" Micky asked him.
"I am not sharing a room with them," Vyvyan stated pointing to Neil and Rick.
"Yeah! It would be sort of, poofy," added Rick squirming uncomfortably.
"For now you're going to have to," Mike told him taking control of the situation, "at least until we can think of something better. Now, there are four beds in the room upstairs and two in the downstairs bedroom plus a fold out couch that can fit two."
"Why do you have four beds upstairs?" Neil asked suspiciously.
"Well . . ." Mike stuttered, "uh . . . because . . ." He glanced at his three compatriots quizzically. They looked back in a similar state of confusion. When he saw the other three were just as stumped as he, he shrugged and replied, "I don't know."
Rick's look now turned to suspicion as well. "You don't know?"
Mike looked to his friends for support.
"Well," Micky began slowly, "no."
"Okay," the shorter Mike said rousing everyone from his private contemplation, "now that that's settled, we'll bid you good night. Come on guys, we're upstairs."
Mike was about to protest but thought better of it. It would only create yet another scene. Instead, he watched as Rick, Neil, Mike and Vyvyan trudged off up the stairs. He sighed heavily with relief as Vyvyan slammed the door shut behind him. The others relaxed, too. Without a word, the four remaining men entered the downstairs bedroom. Micky, the last one in, locked the door behind him, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. For a long time, they sat in numb silence while their brains made an attempt to digest the events of the day.
Micky was the first to breach the peace. "Well that was fun," he said slumping down on the sofa.
"What a day," Davy agreed. "I hope that was only because they were getting settled."
"I have a feeling they were only getting started," Micky told him plainly.
Davy grinned slightly. "I don't know if I can take another day like that."
"What are we gonna do, Mike?" Peter asked trying desperately to hold back the tears.
"We're gonna go to sleep," Mike replied.
"But what about them?" asked Peter.
"Hopefully they'll go to sleep, too," Micky said, a slight grin now appearing on his face.
Mike paused mulling over Peter's question in his mind. Micky and Davy also appeared to be deep in thought. "I don't know," Mike finally said causing Peter's hopeful look to dissolve.
"We can't keep this up, that's for sure," Davy stated. "Those guys are crackers . . . crazy!"
"Yeah," Micky added, "the place looks like a hurricane hit it."
"True, but for once that hurricane wasn't named Micky Dolenz," Davy said.
Micky's grin broadened a little.
"Come on guys," Mike said unfolding the couch, "we'll sleep on it. I'm sure things will look better in the morning."
"I hope so. What I need now is some peace and quiet," Davy added heading for an empty bed.
Before he reached it, however, an ear piercingly violent scream erupted from above their heads. The sound was followed shortly by a dull thud, a few seconds of silence, and the sound of shouting and banging coming from the stairs as though someone had just fallen down them.
"You had to say that, didn't you?" Micky asked Davy, and the fearful four made quickly though reluctantly for the door.

Meanwhile, Rick, Vyvyan, Mike and Neil were considering their surroundings.
"Before you say anything, Neil, shut up!" Rick said not even looking at the hippie. He headed for the nearest bed and sat down dejectedly.
"I wasn't going to say . . ." began Neil. "Oh I see, it's time to hassle me. I suppose that'll make you feel better."
"Will it?" Vyvyan chimed in. "Okay then. Neil you are a snivelling little rat-faced git! A smelly flare-wearing hippie!"
"Flare's are coming back!" Neil defended.
"Feel better Vyv?" Mike queried.
"Yes actually, Michael," he said flopping himself on the last remaining bed.
"It's not so bad, guys," Neil said trying to lighten the oppressive mood in the room. "Sort of like camping."
"Oh?" Rick said trying to suppress a grin, "I suppose you'd know a lot about camping, wouldn't you Neil?"
"Well yes actually, when I was younger . . ." Neil stopped suddenly, a horrified look crossing his face. "I mean, No! Never!" he amended realizing what Rick had meant.
Rick was about to comment further when Vyvyan interrupted. "What the bloody hell is this?" he asked. Above his bed hung two rings like the kind you see on monkey bars or in the Olympics.
"I don't want to alarm you, Vyv, but there is a very good chance that that bed was the centre of a menage-a-quatre," Mike told him.
"Cat?" Neil asked. "I though they were monkeys."
"What's that?" Vyvyan asked Mike ignoring Neil. Mike whispered something into his ear eliciting an ear piercingly violent scream from Vyvyan. He leapt off the bed and stared at in in disgust before charging away. He then grabbed Rick, hurled him to the floor and placed himself gingerly in the now vacant bed.
Rick landed with a thud and immediately stood up shouting, "You bastard! I'm not sleeping where some horrid monkeys' bottoms have," he paused searching for the right words, "been doing . . . things together!"
"Very well," said Vyvyan obligingly. He then got up, dragged Rick to the door and proceed the hurl him down the stairs. After a lot of yelling and banging on the way down, Rick landed in a disorganized heap at the bottom.
After much moaning and complaining, he stood up and addressed the now empty stairway. "How dare you, Vyvyan!" he yelled. "You bastard! You stupid pratt! Someone with a girl's name anyway!"
In response, the upstairs door opened about three inches and a hand appeared. The hand gave Rick the two-finger salute and promptly disappeared once more as the door was slammed shut.
Rick was just about to hurl a string of obscenities at the closed door when he suddenly noticed he had an audience. The four Monkees stood staring in disbelief from the downstairs bedroom's doorway.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked.
Rick put on a false smile. "Of course I'm all right," he said. "Ya know, we're just kooky in this house. Why, the other day we were playing monopoly, and -- it was in the middle of the game -- and we just stopped for no reason at all." He put his hands up questioningly. "We're all just mad around here. I bet, uh, just now, it looked like, uh . . ."
"Like Vyvyan threw you down the stairs?" Micky filled in.
"Yes, a bit like that," he replied his smile fading.
"Just a bit," Davy said grinning.
"Yes," he replied his eyes drifting upward. It was quite obvious that he didn't want to go back up to the room.
Mike sensed his hesitation. "If you don't want to go back up there you can sleep over there," he said pointing to the hammock.
Rick started for the hammock, but stopped halfway saying, "It's not because I'm afraid you understand."
"Of course not," said Mike, Peter, Davy and Micky in unison.
"Who would want to sleep with three other men anyway," he said and then he remembered the rings over the bed. His expression turned to suspicion. He edged backwards toward the hammock as though he expected a gang bang the moment he turned away from the others.
His fears were interrupted, though, when the bedroom door opened again admitting Vyvyan. He dragged a struggling Neil behind him. "Come on Vyv, put me down," Neil was saying.
"Okay Neil," Vyvyan said and threw him down the stairs.
"Oh ha, ha, Vyvyan. I certainly didn't see that coming a mile away!" Rick yelled sarcastically.
"Shut up, virgin!" Vyvyan shouted back.
"I am not a virgin!" Rick replied, a horrified expression on his face.
"Virgin, virgin," Vyvyan chanted from the balcony, grinning.
"Oh! Well! That's rich coming from someone who's only sexual experience came from putting a hamster down his trousers!" Rick replied haughtily with his hands on his hips.
In response, Vyvyan simply gave him the V sign and stood there grinning as Mike appeared.
Neil, who was still lying in a heap on the floor, began to stir. "I don't get it, all I said was 'good night'," he said sitting up.
"It's not what you said Neil, but how you said it," Mike replied from the balcony.
Neil thought about that for a moment. "Oh," he paused. "How did I say it?"
"Just like that," Mike replied and then began laughing to himself. "It," he giggled to an uncomprehending Vyvyan.
Downstairs, Mike Nesmith was more than a little fed up with the proceedings. "Can we please just go to bed?" he demanded once Mike had finished chuckling.
"I don't care what you do as long as you keep it down," replied Mike. "Some of us are trying to sleep." Having said this, he and Vyvyan headed back to the room but stopped just before entering. "I don't suppose I could convince you to throw yourself down the stairs, could I, Vyv?"
Vyvyan seemed to considered this but finally shook his head and replied, "Oh no, you're not going to get me with that one again."
Mike shrugged and the two men closed the door behind them.
On the ground floor, Neil crawled over to the sofa while Rick tried in vain to climb into the hammock. His first attempt landed him on the floor as did his second and third. He was about to have another go when he realized his audience was still there. The four in the doorway were staring at him, obviously trying very had not to laugh out loud.
"What are you looking at?!" he hollered as they burst out with uncontrollable laughter. "Well you can bloody well stop . . ." he began when then a thought struck. "Of course. I'm obviously the most sexy," he mumbled to himself the horrified look returning. "Okay!" he yelled to the laughing figures, "I know what you're thinking, you perverts, and you can just stop now! Don't think we don't know what you get up to up there." He pointed a finger in the direction of the upstairs bedroom.
"Yeah!" added Neil from the sofa.
"Yeah . . . shut up, Neil!"
"But I'm on your side, Rick."
Rick sighed and shook his head. "Yes, well I don't want you on my side. I want you as far away from me as you can get!" He addressed the now confused Monkees. "I know I'm young, attractive, sexy, but I don't swing that way! I'm strictly butter side up, so you can take your roving eyes and plant them on some other man's bottom!" With some effort he finally managed to situate himself in the hammock.
Mike shook his head and led his confused friends into the bedroom. It had been a very long day.
"Good night, Rick," Neil said.
"Oh shut up, Neil," replied Rick. He then rolled over and consequently fell out of the hammock. "Damn!" he yelled as he landed unceremoniously on the floor.