Chapter 7 - Oh My My

A few hours later and still no sign of Mike. None of the Monkees really bothered to go check on him this time, though. They knew when their attendance was forbidden, so they kept their distance. Instead, they all brainstormed their current predicament.

"So if we wake up tomorrow, will it be Sunday again?"

"If everyday is Sunday, then we'll have the same schedule everyday."

"The book says that our goal here is "to be the change." Does that mean changing fate?"

"Break routine, maybe?"

There was another knock at the door. The three Monkees glanced at one another before Davy got up to answer the door. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see two familiar, golden eyes.

"Hellooo Monkees!" The gypsy beamed. She had banished her futuristic 2016 style for something more modern and psychedelic. Davy assumed it was to blend in. "How's the trial goin'?"

"You pop up at the most convenient of times, don't you?" Davy almost smiled. He was almost relieved to see the gypsy. Almost.

Peter and Micky had stood and joined Davy at the door, both surprised to see the golden-eyed gypsy. "What are you doing here?" Peter asked.

"Just checkin' in on you lot. Makin' sure you're not doing anything stupid," The gypsy said almost jokingly.

"Well then you should have come about 24 hours ago," Micky pointed up towards the stairs. "Mike fell in love."

"Yeah…" The gypsy's eyes lingered at the staircase. "Hate to break it to you, but I figured that was gonna happen."

"You knew?" Davy exclaimed, his relief turning into his Davy-like anger.

"I'm a gypsy Davy, of course I knew. What do you think I am? Look, I know I said in the tent that you boys had to do these trials alone, but that doesn't mean I can't help just a tiny bit. I'm on your side. I want you to complete these trials, remember?"

"Yeah, because kidnapping us and sending us to 2016 is helping," Davy scoffed.

The gypsy gave a nonchalant shrug that boiled Davy's temper even more. He wasn't sure if he loved or hated the woman. "I sensed that you boys were plotting, so I figured I'd show up and push you in the right direction. Though you all seem to be such smart people, I assume you don't need my help. Just like how you didn't need my help getting to England or even knowing how to get out 2016. I'll just leave with all my wisdom and leave you guys to figure it out on your own…" The gypsy snapped around on her heels and began to march away.

"No! Wait!" Davy exclaimed.

The gypsy stopped in her tracks and turned, giving Davy a sinister, yet clever eye. "Okay then, Davy Jones." She walked back up to the door and made eye contact with the Brit, getting about two inches from his face. "But question my actions again and I'll make sure you're stranded in this fantasy for the rest of your life. And trust me, Michael wouldn't want that."

Micky made to argue, but Peter shook his head and placed a hand over his mouth to stop him. It didn't matter to argue at this point. Peter figured the best thing to do was to let Davy scrap with the gypsy. She clearly had good intentions, even if her delivery wasn't exactly pure. Davy never had a strong filter, anyways. Peter was even grateful it was Davy having it out with the gypsy. If it were Mike, boy she would be having a run for her money.

"Alright then," Davy breathed, trying to cool down. "How do you want to help us?"

"Well, tell me what you've figured out so far."

"Uh, come in, won't you?" Micky said as kindly as possible. The three Monkees stepped aside and the gypsy strolled in. Davy shut the door and they all took residence on the couch and chairs in the living room.

"Well, yesterday was Sunday," Davy started.

"And today is Sunday," Micky added.

"So we think tomorrow might be Sunday, too," Peter added.

The gypsy simply nodded. Davy continued, "There's a Sunday routine that kind of goes on, where we rehearse while David Squire mows his lawn, then the kids kick their ball in our yard, Mr. Green watches his programs at noon, and then Andrew Duncan has a party tonight."

"Maybe Micky should be a little more careful tonight, then," the gypsy said. "And Mike should be, too. What do you think he's gonna do tonight?"

"Frankly, I don't know if he's gonna come out for the party tonight," Peter admitted.

The gypsy shrugged again. "That might not be a bad thing. Maybe he should stay home."

"Are you saying he's gonna fall in love every night?" Davy asked.

"Oh man, Mike's giving you a run for your money," Micky laughed.

Despite her amusement at Micky's joke, the gypsy shrugged again. "Be the change, as I say."

"Yeah, what does that even mean?" Davy asked with a splash of vexation.

"You've identified a pattern, haven't you?" The Monkees looked at each other. They had, they thought. Was it Mike's love affair? They made eye contact with the gypsy, who was now standing and making her way back to the front door. "Well then," She opened the door, turning back for one last look at the Monkees. "Go change it." She stepped through the door and shut it promptly behind her, leaving the Monkees alone again.

"Mike's going to be heartbroken when he hears this," Micky said breathlessly.

"What do you mean? He already is," Davy said just as breathlessly.

"I think I'll go check on him now. We should be getting ready to go to Andrew's party, anyways," Peter said heartfully. He quietly made his way upstairs to check on the forth Monkee. Davy and Micky both took in a deep breath, wondering what kind of trouble they were going to get into tonight.