.
Everyone's head turned. There in the doorway stood the owner of the voice half obscured by the door frame. She was a pretty girl around twenty, 5' 5" with shoulder length blond hair. A pair of glasses framed her striking blue eyes.
The group of eight stared at her open-mouthed, making no attempt to hide their astonishment. The last thing any of them had expected was that a female visitor should enter their midst. She looked on nervously waiting for someone to answer her greeting. When no such reply came she decided to try again.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she ventured.
Silence.
"I would have knocked, but the door was opened, or rather missing," she added.
Silence again.
"Maybe I'd better come back later," she said turning to leave. She was just about to head back from whence she came when a voice called out stopping her.
"Leaving so soon, baby? The party's just starting."
She turned back to find one of the eight men leaning causally in the doorway. How he'd gotten there so quickly she wasn't certain.
"Why don't you come inside," Mike continued, for it was he who had spoken, "and I'll give you a tour of my bedroom."
She gazed at him quizzically but followed him inside none-the-less. The others were no longer gaping , but they continued to stare unabated.
"Who's that?" Rick asked.
"That, Rick, is a girl. Get a good look, it may be your last chance to see one," Mike told him.
Rick took a step closer as did Vyvyan. Both studied her intently, strange looks on both their faces. She held her breath under their gazes not quite sure what to do. After what seemed an eternity, Rick stepped back apparently satisfied, but Vyvyan remained staring. Finally after much scrutiny, particularly over her chest, Mike declared that that was enough and Vyvyan reluctantly backed off.
"All right, baby, shall we?" Mike said taking her arm and attempting to lead her toward the stairs.
"Wait a minute," she said shaking him off. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Mike was taken aback. "What's wrong? It's a fair trade. I give you a tour of my room, and you give me a tour of your knickers."
"You must be joking," she replied edging further away from him.
"Hey that's my line," Davy exclaimed.
"What?"
"Never mind. You'll have to excuse them. They've had a long night what with just escaping from the looney bin and all," Davy said with an impish grin. "I'm Davy," he told her and proceeded to introduce the others in the room. "And you are . . .?"
"Melissa," she responded.
"What a beautiful name," he replied his eyes twinkling brightly like stars.
"Is something wrong with your eyes?" Melissa asked him.
"Ignore him, he always gets like that," the taller Mike informed her with a friendly smile. "Is there something we can do for you?"
She relaxed a little now that she was, more or less, among "sane persons."
"Actually I just came over to introduce myself. I'm your new neighbour."
"Brilliant!" shouted Vyvyan.
"Yeah, right on!" Rick agreed a somewhat pervy look on his face.
Melissa was disconcerted by the outburst but forced a smile regardless.
"Welcome to the neighbourhood," Peter said warmly.
She found her self smiling genuinely for the first time since she'd met these strange new men. "Thank you," she replied.
The introductions having been made, the silence returned. It too wanted to find out who the new visitor was but seeing that no one would speak in its presence it eventually gave up deciding it was time to go on holiday. It briefly wondered if the Bahamas were nice this time of year before it was kicked out by . . .
"Well," Melissa said at last. "Maybe I should go."
"No!" everyone shouted in unison.
"Stay please," Rick said obsequiously.
Melissa glared at him, loathing showing on her face. "Really, I've got a lot of unpacking to do."
"No stay, please," Peter pleaded fearing her departure would signal the end of their temporary truce.
Something in his fearful eyes made her resolve falter. "Well. . . I should go. . ." she stammered.
"Yeah stay. We'll have lunch," Vyvyan suggested addressing her breasts.
"Yeah, lunch!" Peter jumped in not sensing Vyvyan's innuendo.
Micky finally decided to join in. "Don't worry about them. We'll keep the wolves at bay."
"Okay, but just for a little while," she decided.
"Great. Neil!" the shorter Mike called.
"Yeah?"
"Go make us some lunch."
Neil shot him a sour look but trudged off soggily toward the kitchen. He was still clearly unhappy about his failure this morning.
Melissa stared after him. "You friend is wet," she commented.
"Yes, well, what he does behind closed doors is his business," Mike said sidling up to her again.
"That's a funny story actually," Rick laughed snorting. "We got up this morning and found out he'd tried to kill himself."
Everyone stared blankly at him except Vyvyan. "Yeah that was pretty funny," he grinned.
"Wait, wait, I haven't finished yet. We almost had to make our own breakfast!" He paused putting his hands in the air questioningly. "Now that's what I call anarchy!"
"He tried to kill himself?" Melissa asked horrified.
"Well, yes," Rick said somewhat deflated by her reaction.
"That's horrible!"
"Exactly! He should have asked me," Vyvyan said nearing the girl. "I'd of killed him and I wouldn't have fucked it up!"
"Really," agreed Rick. "Low tide."
As this exchange took place, Melissa found her self edging toward Mike, Peter, Micky and Davy and away from the others.
"Here," Davy began, "why don't you sit down?" He gestured fro her to take a seat on the sofa.
"Thank you," she said moving toward the couch.
As she began lowering herself, Vyvyan tensed. "No, wait!" he shouted.
Melissa turned to see what he was shouting about, but it was too late. As soon as she place her rear on the cushion, the couch proceeded to explode violently throwing her halfway across the room into the wall. She fell unconscious to the floor harshly banging her head on a nearby end table just in case she wasn't unconscious enough already. Micky, Mike, Peter and Davy immediately ran over to help her.
"Oh great! The the sofa's exploded!" Rick yelled.
"Good one, Vyv," Mike said, "but next time could you not kill our only female guest?"
Vyvyan seemed surprised. "Honestly!" he hollered, "anytime anything explodes around here it's always Vyvyan!"
"That's because it's always your fault!" Rick accused.
"No it isn't!" shouted Vyvyan.
"Yes it is!"
"No it's not!"
"Look there's one way to settle this," Mike interjected. "Vyv, did you set those explosives?"
"Yes," Vyvyan answered quietly looking down at his shuffling feet.
"Where did they come from?" Mike continued.
"The boot of my car."
"Are there anymore?"
"No."
"Right that's settled. How is she?"
"I don't think she's breathing, and we can't find a pulse," Micky answered fearfully.
Everyone looked at Melissa's limp form. The explosion must have thrown her clear of the flames, which were now going out of their own accord, since she didn't have any noticeably bad burns. In fact if one didn't know better, they might think she was merely sleeping if it wasn't for the odd way she was lying and eerie stillness of her chest. There was some blood coming from a head wound, probably from where it hit the table, but it didn't seem to be too bad.
Rick stomped over. "Let me see," he said and bent to down putting his ear to her chest.
"What was that bang?" Neil asked appearing from the kitchen.
"Gang bang," replied Rick, Vyvyan and Mike at the same time.
"What? Here in the sitting room?"
"No here in the sitting room," Mike said motioning to Melissa.
"And you guys didn't invite me?"
The taller Mike shook his head in frustration. "The couch just exploded with her on it."
"Oh," replied Neil feeling somewhat let down. He headed back toward the kitchen.
"Well? Can you find a pulse?" prompted Mike.
"What?" Rick asked confused, his head still positioned above Melissa's chest. "Oh . . . uh, no. I think I'd better listen a bit longer."
"Look Rick, much though I would like to be in your position this is no time for necrophilia!" Mike retorted.
"I've just come to tell you I'm not making lunch," Neil said re-entering the living room, a frying pan in his hand.
"Here let me have a go!" Vyvyan said pulling Rick up by his jacket collar.
Neil left the room.
"Not you too!" exclaimed Davy.
"It's all right, I'm a doctor," he said kneeling over his patient.
"You're a doctor?" Micky asked skeptically.
"Yeah, a medical student," he answered. He placed his head on the girl's chest and listened intently. An entire minute passed and he didn't move. "Nope, she's dead," Vyvyan finally stated.
"Are you sure?" Peter asked.
"Yup, I didn't get thrown out of college for nothing!"
"That's not fair!" Davy shouted. "It was my turn to get the girl!"
"Dave, it's always your turn," Mike told him.
"Oh my God! She's dead!" Rick shouted hysterically.
Neil came back into the room. "Look guys I'm really not going to make any lunch," he stated.
"Fuck lunch!" Rick yelled jumping around anxiously.
"I'd rather not if it's all the same, Rick," Neil responded.
"What'll we do?"
"Shouldn't we call a hospital or something?" Micky proposed near hysteria himself.
"Right!" Rick said and began searching madly. "For Cliff's sake where is the bloody phone!?"
Vyvyan, noticing Rick's distress and also noticing the phone nearby, grabbed it and thrust it into Rick's hands yanking the chord from the wall in the process.
"Hello operator," Rick said putting the receiver to his ear and tapping the button. "No good, no dial tone," he said throwing the useless phone over his shoulder. The phone, unfortunately, landed directly on Melissa's forehead.
"Hey! Watch it man!" Mike yelled at him.
"Why? What's it gonna do? Kill her more?" Rick said fidgeting nervously again.
"All right, I'll handle this. Now everyone one calm down," the shorter Mike stepped in. "This is no time to get hysterical," he added to Rick.
"I am not getting hysterical!" Rick hollered hysterically.
"Yes you are!" Vyvyan shouted at him.
"I'm not!" retorted Rick, near tears.
"You bloody well are!"
"Well maybe I am, but this is serious! We could get arrested! I can't go to jail! I'm too pretty, I'd get raped!"
It was a shame that nearly everyone was watching Rick and Vyvyan because it was at that moment that the "dead" girl began to move. Very slowly, almost tentatively, her eyes began to flutter and open. She tried to lift her head but couldn't. She briefly wondered who had turned the gravity up while she was out. Carefully, she brought her hand round to the back of her head where the blood was slowing to a stop and winced in pain. Deciding movement was definitely a bad idea, she closed her eyes and lie still. She instead focused her efforts on trying to figure out who she was, where she was, who was shouting, who was banging a bass drum in her skull and what her next move should be. She opted to continue doing nothing in the hopes that everything would work itself out of its own accord.
Unfortunately, Davy was the only one to notice all this, well at least the visible bits. He was just about to mention it to the others when, as usual, things began to get ugly.
"Jail?" Vyvyan continued in sudden alarm. "We could go to jail?"
"Well I don't know," Rick began, agitated, "but last time I checked murder was against the law!"
"But I never touched her!"
Rick sighed in frustration. "No, but you set the explosives and that seemed to do the trick."
"How do you know it was me!?"
"You admitted it, you bastard!" Rick shouted. "Remember? We're all witnesses."
Briefly, Vyvyan considered killing everyone in the room, but something told him that could make things much worse than they already were. Besides, there was always . . . no, not yet anyway.
Vyvyan looked at the now still "corpse" his face registering something very close to fear. He paused for a moment examining her. "You bitch!" he bellowed and began kicking her furiously. "Wake up!" he shouted. Melissa writhed under the attack, but was still to zoned to understand what was happening. Vyvyan, not noticing her feeble protests, continued beating her mercilessly. Her struggles were soon put to rest, however, when Rick grabbed the frying pan Neil was holding and joined Vyvyan.
"Wake up!" he cried and pounded her head furiously with the pan. "Get up!"
As he and Vyvyan continued the mad beating, Micky, Davy, Peter and Mike paled simultaneously realizing, as evidenced by her protests, that she wasn't, as they had surmised, dead, at least not until now. The other Mike, as usual looked on with casual annoyance while Neil seemed more disturbed at the loss of his frying pan than anything else.
After what seemed and eternity, Rick and Vyvyan, finally exhausted, stepped back to admire their work.
"There!" said a satiated Rick, "That'll teach you to get blown up in our flat!"
"Yeah!" Vyvyan agreed. "Bloody birds!"
"You killed her!" Peter exclaimed.
"Again!" Davy added in horror.
"What are you talking about?" Rick asked in a very Rick-like manner.
"Yeah, she was dead when we killed her!" said Vyvyan.
"I think you'll find that the Manchester midget is correct," Mike told him causally.
Rick stared at him dumbfounded, which was quite easy for him.
"She was alive," Davy exclaimed. "I saw her move when you were fighting."
"I'm still not making lunch," Neil repeated.
"Why do you think she moved when you started kicking her?" Micky asked.
"Why didn't you say so!?" Vyvyan hollered at Davy.
Davy was floored. "Well . . ." he stammered, "there was . . . no time!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, music seeming to come from nowhere filled the room.
.
"What in the hell are they doing?" Rick asked.
"I think they've gone crazy," answered Mike. For once, he was at a complete loss.
.
Peter, having given up the phone, dashed over to Mr. Schneider and theatrically made an attempt to replace the head in the most roundabout way possible. Micky ran into the downstairs bedroom, but emerged seconds later from the upstairs room and commenced sliding down the railing. Mike and Davy continued their high-step run only this time with Davy as the chased. As they circled the confused figures of Vyvyan, Mike and Rick, Vyvyan decided to join in the fun. He grabbed the frying pan from Rick and smacked first Davy and then Mike in the face while grinning and tapping his foot to the music.
.
The mayhem continued. Mike TheCoolPerson was starting to get agitated. Finally he noticed what was amiss. "Neil, turn that off," he said.
Neil turned the tape player off. "Sorry," he said. "I must have hit the play button accidentally."
As soon as the music stopped, all four Monkees instantly froze. This was particularly easy for Mike and Davy as they were still lying on the floor.
"And what exactly was that?" Mike asked them.
"Uniform idioting if you ask me," Rick said.
"Well I didn't ask you Rick, I asked them," Mike continued. "Well?" he prodded.
The group assembled and looked at each other sheepishly. "It's a typical Monkee romp," Micky answered.
"That's what you call typical, is it?" Mike pressed on.
"I'd call it bloody stupid," Vyvyan said.
"True, but I didn't ask you either, did I?" He turned his attention back to the others. "You do this often then?"
They shrugged uneasily, but said nothing.
"I think they're just a bunch of long-haired weirdoes," Neil said before noticing the length of his own hair. "Oh, sorry. Never mind." He paused. "I'm really not making lu--"
"Stop right there, Neil," Mike said before Neil could go on. "It is a rare occasion that you interest me, but today is a day for rare occasions. Why do you keep saying you won't make lunch?"
"Because, they're back," Neil said.
"Who?" Rick asked.
"Rick, I'm asking the questions," Mike said. He looked back at Neil, "Who?"
"You remember guys, the Lentil Fairies. They've been again."
"What? They've been, in our kitchen?" Vyvyan questioned.
"Oh that's just typical!" Rick yelled. "We turn our back for five minutes and mythical Lentil Fairies have shat in our kitchen!"
Neil shook his head. "No, they've been here," he whispered.
Everyone looked down towards the ground. Vyvyan went so far as the check the bottom of his shoes.
"No," Neil corrected. "I mean they've come, again."
"Oh that's disgusting, Neil!" Rick proclaimed.
"Neil," Mike interrupted, "how do your fantasies about fairies cuming in the kitchen effect the preparation of our lunch." He paused to consider this. "On second thought I don't want to know."
"I do!" Vyvyan said.
"That's just like you Vyvyan," Rick told him haughtily. "We've got a dead body in the sitting room and all you can thing about is sex."
"So?!"
"I mean," Neil intervened getting uncharacteristically annoyed. "There are no lentils left at all! I think, right, they must have snuck in last night and stolen them. All of them," he finished in a whisper. "It seems the only reasonable explanation."
"Oh my God! We're under attack by magical Lentil Fairies! What are we going to do!" Rick shouted hysterically. "Quick! Quick! We have to do something! Uh . . . barricade the door!"
"What door?" Micky asked.
"Oh no! We don't even have a door to barricade! Don't just stand there, do something!" he hollered at everyone.
Vyvyan took the initiative. He got a firm grip on the frying pan and smashed it over Rick's head with all his might. "Better?" he
asked.
Rick was calmed. "Much better thank you Vyvyan!" he said sarcastically before turning his attention back to Neil. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"
"Well I did try Rick, like for the past ten minutes, but nobody ever listens to anything I have to say. You're not even listening now . . ."
"Oh shut up, Neil. Nobody cares," Rick told him.
Mike and the others were by now recovered from their previous embarrassment. "What are you talking about stolen lentils? We never had any lentils, and you guys didn't bring any food."
"Oh. Well than forget I said anything," Neil replied amicably.
"That shouldn't be too difficult considering we never listen to you anyway!" Rick retorted.
"I knew it," Neil said.
"See? I didn't even hear that," added Rick.
"Lentils, or lack there of, are the least of our problems," Mike interrupted before Neil could reply, and Rick could pretend not to hear him.
"I don't see what the big deal is, it's not the first corpse we've had to deal with," Neil said.
"Isn't it?" Peter asked half with hope and half horrified.
"Remember guys? That one bloke Vyvyan found."
"He wasn't dead," Rick snapped.
"But I thought . . ."
"He wasn't dead," repeated Rick.
Neil paused to contemplate this before his face lit up with comprehension. A slight grin crossed his face. "Oh, so that's why he struggled so much when we tried to shove him in the boot of your car."
"Yes," added Vyvyan, "and that's why he screamed so loudly when we set fire to him." Vyvyan paused. "That's it!" he suddenly cried, elated. "We'll set fire to her!" He ran out the door to prepare his plan.
"Oh no! This is gonna get heavy, I know it," Neil said glancing nervously about the room.
"What's he gonna do?" the taller Mike questioned just as Vyvyan reappeared a blow torch in his hand and a welding mask obscuring his face. He headed for Melissa and turned the torch on.
"Oh that's right Vyvyan, burn the evidence. As if that'll save you," Rick said haughtily.
Vyvyan regarded him silently, the fire mere inches from the girls paling skin. "Why are you talking about? You killed her," he said finally.
Rick was shocked. "But I never touched her!"
"No, but the frying pan did, and you were holding it at the time."
Rick was suddenly panic stricken. "What do you mean?! I didn't kill her, you did with the bomb in the sofa!"
"Ah," Vyvyan began, lifting his mask to look Rick in the eyes, "but she was still alive after I killed her, therefore it was the frying pan that did her in." Having made his point, Vyvyan smiled and replaced the welding mask. He turned back to the girl, his torch alight.
"Now hold on Vyv!" Mike intervened.
Vyvyan held the torch poised.
"Remember, what happened last time you set someone on fire?" Mike continued.
"No."
"I do," Neil scowled.
"Well in that case I suggest you re-read part one," Mike said to Vyvyan.
"That's right!" Rick interjected. "If you hadn't set fire to Neil's trousers than we wouldn't have had to move in with these bastards and none of this would be happening!"
"Rick, stop crying," Mike said.
Rick wiped a tear from his cheek. "I'm not crying, Mike, there's just something in my eye."
"Well," Vyvyan began, addressing Rick, "if you hadn't said 'Why don't we set Neil on fire, that'll be good for a laugh' I never would have tried it. At least not inside the house."
"You bastard! Don't go trying to blame this on me!" Rick shouted hitting Vyvyan ineffectually on the arm.
In response, Vyvyan hit him very effectually in the back of the head with the blow torch.
"Ow!" he yelled stumbling forward. "Anyway, if Neil hadn't been born at all I never would have said it and we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"Oh, so everything is my fault?" asked Neil.
"Yes," Rick, Mike and Vyvyan agreed.
"So I guess the hole in the ozone is my fault, and the assassination of JFK and every war ever, and . . ." he paused in thought, "and Rick's transvestism and obsession with Cosmopolitan."
Rick and Vyvyan had been nodding in agreement until that last bit where Rick jumped up to protest but was immediately struck down by Vyvyan fist.
"Sounds right to me," agreed Vyvyan.
"That's not true! I've never touched women's clothes in my life," Rick protested.
"Or a woman for that matter," Mike added.
"Unless you count Monica," offered Neil.
Rick's eyes widened in terror. "Monica? I don't believe I know a Monica," he lied lamely.
"Oh yes, Monica," Vyvyan said. "Your 'life-size female companion' complete with three lifelike orifices and puncture repair kit."
Rick stared at him, his breath coming in fitful gasps. Finally he let out with, "You've been going through my things again, haven't you?"
"Yes!" Vyvyan answered brightly.
Rick cursed. He'd hoped to catch Vyvyan in a lie.
Vyvyan motioned to the dead girl with the blow torch. "Please Mike?"
"No."
"Just a leg?"
"No."
"A foot?"
"No!"
"A toe!?"
"Vyv, I hate to say anything negative, but no. You are notoriously bad with fire."
Vyvyan took on a dejected look and cast the blow torch aside carefully making sure it hit Neil square on the head. The hippie fell to the floor without a sound. Taking off the mask, Vyvyan slumped unhappily on a chair.
"Man!" the other Mike exclaimed, "you guys have a powerful tendency to digress!"
"So?" Vyvyan pointed out.
"Yeah, what of it, ya square?" Rick added.
"We have to do something about her. Something sensible," Mike continued.
"Will you please not use that word in this house. If there's one thing we are not, it's sensible!" Rick said proudly.
Mike sighed in frustration and noticed he'd been doing a lot of that lately. "We can't just leave her there."
"We should call the police," Davy remarked.
"What for?" Neil queried. "To come round, smash the place up, drop donut crumbs all over the carpet and arrest everyone for obstructing justice?"
"That's not what the police do," Mike protested.
"Yes they do," argued Neil.
"Yeah, and he should know. He was one of the pigs once," Rick added.
"We have to call the police," Mike demanded. "What else can we do?"
"I've got it!" Micky yelled suddenly. "A great idea!"
"Well?" everyone asked simultaneously.
"That's what we need a great idea!" Micky continued.
The other's sighed in disappointment.
"Well thank you George Michael Einstein!" Rick commented. "We already knew that!"
"We gotta talk to the writer!" Micky added.
Oh no, no, no, no! Hold it right there. Don't you dare go dragging me into this. This is not going to be one of those stories. You know what I'm talking about, where the writer starts talking back to the characters. You can just forget about it! You can all fuck off for all I care. I mean, you got yourselves into this mess, you can damn well get yourselves right back out. It drives me up the wall all these people who write themselves into their stories for no other reason than to have it off with one of the characters. Fantasy's fine, but can't we just keep it to ourselves? It's ridiculous all these . . .
Rick coughed, "But miss writer-person, you have written yourself in this."
Don't you start with me spotty. I'll kick your white ass across this page before you can say "I'm a fucking moron." I'll send you packing to oblivion so fast you won't know your head from your bottom. Got it?
"Sorry," Rick said obsequiously.
That's better. Maybe I did write myself in, but do you see me snogging with Davy Jones? (Not that I'd mind terribly, mind you.) No! What am I doing? I'm lying dead on the floor, aren't I? I don't have to do this you know? I don't have to write this mindless nonsensical crap. I don't get paid for it or anything. I do it for the two people out there who might just read it and tell me what a complete piece of shit it is and what a total git I am for having thought it up in the first place. And what is it with people who can't put their damn blinker on when they're driving. Now that really pisses me off. Am I supposed to guess telepathically that they're going to change lanes right in front of my car? Or those people who can't merge. The sign doesn't say 'sit there like a stupid asshole until it's clear for two miles in either direction' does it? No! It's says merge. So please, for God's sake just go! Cut someone off if you have to but get the hell out of my way. Why do they give stupid people driver's licenses anyway? They ought to give IQ tests instead of driving exams. Any idiot can drive around a bunch of friggin' cones, but how many people on the road can say that their IQ is higher than their age? Not many by my last count.
Okay, I seem to have strayed a bit. The point is, I'm not the sort of person to go on a long idiotic rant in my own story, and you pratts are on your own. I'm off!
By now, the eight were standing around looking very bored.
"Thank God! I thought she'd never leave. What a bitch!" Rick exclaimed.
"Yeah, good idea fuzzy!" Vyvyan added sarcastically.
"Sorry," Micky said meekly.
"I'm calling the police," Mike said firmly.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the shorter Mike stated.
"Why not?"
"Because if you do, there's a very good chance that you're friend here," he gestured to Micky, "is going to find himself short yet another drumstick. Isn't that right, Vyv?"
"Right as rain, Michael!" Vyvyan shouted, grinning.
"I know! We could eat the body!" Rick suggested.
"You would Rick," Neil accused, "you know I'm a vegetarian!"
"You wouldn't even eat one body? Not even to help out a mate?" Rick asked.
"You're not my friend, Rick. You don't even like me."
"You bastard!" Rick shouted. "You utter, utter bastard! You can' t even do me one small favour! You didn't cook breakfast this morning, you wouldn't go down to the shops that day the city flooded, you wouldn't swap rooms with me after Vyvyan was sick all over my bed and now you won't help me eat that dead girl on the floor. That's just typical of you Neil! You're so selfish!"
"Nobody is eating anybody," the shorter Mike said. "Now the way I see it we could burn her, bury her or dump her. Burning her is out for the obvious reasons so I'm willing to take suggestions. What should we do with the body?"
"What body?" Vyvyan asked slyly. Everyone turned to look and sure enough, Melissa was gone.