Chapter 2- Pleasant Valley Sunday

Author's Note: Shout out to Lisa Boon who pointed out a plot hole in my previous chapter. I address it right away here, but thanks Lisa Boon for bringing it to my attention. I was originally going to go back into Chapter 1 and rewrite it, but I found something really cool about the randomly picked date I chose. Look it up. (Except 1967, not 1966. I left it as 1966 because it landed on a Sunday. There's a hint in the title of the chapter)

"Wait a minute!" Micky cried out, rummaging through a bookshelf. "Mike..."

"What?" Mike asked from the kitchen.

"Why are you teaching kids in July? Isn't school supposed to be out in the summer?"

"I don't know!" Mike exclaimed. "I didn't even know I was a teacher till 'bout twenty minutes ago when those kids asked me! Why don't you go ask them why we have class in July?"

That's when Peter came down the stairs, still drying his hair with a towel. He had dawned himself in white pants and an almost indie-like shirt, embroidered with designs along the cuffs and collar, as well as a bit down the front for where the shirt fastened shut. He also managed to find some love beads to hang around his neck. "What's in July?" He asked, tossing the towel on the nearest couch.

"According to that calendar over there," Davy said, pointing towards the dresser where he left the pocket calendar lying haphazardly on top, "Today is Sunday, July 10th, 1966."

"Okay?" Peter asked, not catching on.

"Micky wants to know why those kids think I'm gonna teach them anythin' tomorrow at school in the middle of July," Mike added, moving towards the stairs to shower.

"Who wants to go to school in July?" Peter asked, scrunching his face up in disgust.

"That's what I wanna know!" Micky exclaimed, looking at a book before tossing it aside.

"Well we can ask those kids later, it's probably some easy excuse like summer school," Davy said, pulling out drawers in the kitchen.

"Or Mike's such a good person, so he's willing to teach little kids without getting paid," Micky said teasingly.

Peter and Davy exchanged surprised looks before bursting out in laughter.

"Now first of all," Davy laughed once he caught a breath. "It's hardly believable that Mike's a teacher. Second, do you really think Mike would be willing to do anything without getting paid?"

From the stairs, Mike rolled his eyes. "Well I don't get paid to babysit you three, now do I?"

"We don't need a babysitter!" Micky defended.

"Ahem," Mike cleared his throat before continuing. "If I recall, ya'll told me that while I was visitin' family in Texas, you, Micky Dolenz, got caught up in a bodybuilding program just to impress some girl that didn't have any interest in you."

"Then there was that time we got involved with that Russian ballerina who had a thing for Peter," Davy admitted.

"And there was the time you got abducted by aliens, Mick," Peter added helpfully.

"Guys, stop helping him prove his point," Micky moaned. "In my defense, we've gotten into a lot of trouble with you around too, Papa Nez."

"Oh yeah? Name one!" Mike countered.

"There was that time when you made Davy dress like a girl just so we could get into some radio contest!" Micky fired.

"And the time you made Davy audition for the lead in 'I Married a Creature From Outta Town," Peter added.

"Or that time when you sold 'I'm Gonna Buy Me a Dog,' to a con man," Davy added.

Mike flinched at the mention of that event. That's when they knew the fun was over. Mike didn't add anything, but began walking upstairs. They all knew Mike hated being reminded of that event. Even though they recovered from it with their revenge and $200, they never recovered Mike's pride. The song had not made a comeback in any rehearsals and had seemingly disappeared since the incident. Both Davy and Micky saw value in the song, but after the incident with Bernie Class, there was no bringing it back.

"I'm sorry Mike," Davy said immediately. "I didn't mean to bring it up, honest!" They heard the one of the doors slam shut and Davy flinched. "I thought it had been long enough since that happened. I thought he would have gotten over it by now. We were all joking around, right?"

"Yeah, but you know Mike," Micky sighed. "That guy hurt him good. He was real close to success and that man broke him. There's no recovering from that till he does make it."

"Do you think we will?" Peter asked, twirling a few love beads.

"We've got what it takes," Micky admitted, his usual cheery persona fading. "We just need to find someone who believes in us. It's obvious that we do. We wouldn't be making a fiftieth anniversary album in 2016 if we didn't."

"Is that what we have to do then?" Peter asked, glancing towards the window. "Do we have to find someone who believes in us and hire us to make records?"

"I don't know," Micky admitted. "Davy, what exactly did the gypsy say about this trial again?"

"Uh, let me check," Davy said, dashing upstairs. When he reached the two doors, he heard the shower running to his left, so he determined it was safe to enter the bedroom. He ran in and grabbed his book, now used to the sting of the book recording his memories. He flipped it open as he walked out of the room, scanning the pages as he made his way back downstairs to where Micky and Peter were. "She said that, 'In the present, you must be the change.' What does that mean? What change?"

"Maybe we change from being a bunch of nameless musicians and a science teacher to being famous?" Micky asked.

"But we don't even know where we are yet," Davy pointed out. "Everything looks the same out there. When Mike was talking with those kids, I was looking up and down that street. It feels like it goes on forever. Just miles of the same house on both sides of the street."

"We could ask?" Micky asked. His face suddenly lit up. "I've got an idea! You two stay here, I'll be right back." He suddenly ruffled his hair to make it a mess, took off a shoe, and ran for the front door. He went outside and shut it behind him. Both Davy and Peter watched from the window as Micky walked across the street, stumbling and flailing about. He walked up to the woman who was watering her roses.

"Oh! Hello Micky!" The old lady said from her lawn. "My, you look like a train wreck this morning."

Micky cocked his head a bit, "I- I'm sorry," He cleared his throat. "M-my friends and I, we may have had a bit too much last night…"

"I can tell," The old lady said. "Would you like me to get you some water?"

Micky shook his head. "I just have a few questions… My memory isn't being very good to me this morning, if you can't tell Mrs…"

"Gray," The old lady gave him an odd look, as if he should have known her name. "My you did have a lot last night. We've been neighbors for two years and you've completely forgotten my name."

"I'm really sorry 'bout that," Micky apologized. "I may have also forgotten where we live, like the city and state and such."

"Micky dear, we live in Pleasant Valley, just like we always have," Mrs. Gray told him.

"Pleasant Valley?" Micky asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh yes, today is just another good ol' Pleasant Valley Sunday," Mrs. Gray said. "Anything else you may have forgotten?"

"Uh…" Micky looked up at the sky. This was his chance to get as many questions answered as he could. "What's my job?"

"Dear, you're a musician," Mrs. Gray said politely as she could. "That's why I assume you live with your bandmates. You four play your music in the garage all the time. Now how could you forget that?"

"Then why is Mike a teacher?" Micky asked drunkenly.

"Mike's always been a teacher. The children were the ones who convinced Michael to join your little group."

"And another thing," Micky asked, trying to keep up the gag by jumping from one question to another. "Why is Mike teachin' kids in July?"

"Micky, don't you remember anything?" Mrs. Gray asked. "Those kids just love Michael so much! They begged and pleaded for Michael to teach them stuff over the summer. It was the sweetest thing to happen in this neighborhood since Mr. Green over yonder moved in with his wife, Michelle. Now I think we've had enough of this little game here, let me take you home." Mrs. Gray put down her watering can and came out to the street, leading Micky home. As they passed her mailbox, Micky noticed it said, 'Gray.' As they passed their mailbox, Micky noticed it said 'Monkees.'

When Peter and Davy saw them approaching, they panicked. Davy ran into the kitchen and Peter jumped up, ready to answer the door. Mrs. Gray walked him up to the door, knocking on it for the decidedly drunken Monkee. Peter answered.

"Good morning Peter!" Mrs. Gray said to him.

"Hi," Peter said, giving Micky a confused look.

"Oh please! Don't tell me you're wasted, too," Mrs. Gray exclaimed.

"No ma'am, I didn't touch anything from last night. I had to keep Micky here in line," Peter lied.

"Well so much for that job. He came runnin' over to my house and askin' me all sorts of common sense questions. You should put this poor boy to bed!" Mrs. Gray handed Micky over. Peter gently pushed him inside where he lied down on the couch.

"Thank you for bringing him back over," Peter said, trying his best to avoid calling her by name.

"You're welcome. Anyone else in there plastered?" Mrs. Gray asked, peering inside.

"Uh, yeah," Peter said quickly blocking her view. "Mike's upstairs sleepin' it off and Davy's in the kitchen. I'll keep them in line, I promise you. Have a nice day," Peter said quickly. Mrs. Gray huffed a little before turning and leaving the yard, returning to her roses across the street. Peter quickly shut the door and turned to Micky. "That was your big idea?! Pretend to be drunk and question the sweet old lady from across the street?!"

"Well I got answers, didn't I?" Micky smiled, abandoning his drunken act and taking on the normal, childish feel. "She says we live in Pleasant Valley and the three of us are musicians. Apparently in this place, Mike really, really likes kids. The kids convinced him to teach them over the summer and to join the Monkees."

"Are we even the Monkees in this place?" Davy asked, entering from where he hid in the kitchen.

"Our mailbox says 'Monkees,' so I assume so," Micky said. "Is Mike done yet? I feel absolutely disgusting."

"I think so, but you may want to give him some space," Peter said, looking upstairs. "Davy, you should go talk to him."

"Why me?" Davy asked, dreading the idea of encountering Mike after his foolish mistake.

"Because it's your fault he's like this," Peter pointed out. "I think he's in the bedroom anyways."

Davy sighed. "Alright, I'll go talk to him. He started to make his way upstairs. Before he disappeared from view, he said to the two Monkees on the ground floor, "You know, it's funny. We're in Pleasant Valley, and it's Sunday."

"It's just another Pleasant Valley Sunday," Micky sang teasingly. He waved up at Davy. "It's just a coincidence. Now go and make Mike feel better. We can't do anything productive with Mike all gloomy and morbid."

"Yes sir," Davy said, trudging up the stairs, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say.