Chapter 14- Long Title

A few more Sundays followed. They had figured out every way to deter everyone from their daily routine, except Mike's. No matter how hard they tried, Mike ended up in the same room with Melissa, and over and over again, they would fall in love at first sight. The routine quickly became frustrating and annoying for the three Monkees, who felt like the odds were ever so quickly tilting away from their favor.

Davy sprung out of bed too quickly this particular Sunday morning. He had a lot on his mind. Every night he analyzed the day before and tried to come up with ways to make the next Sunday better. Mainly new ways to try and keep Melissa and Mike apart. He was anxious rather than excited. He had an idea, but it was a risky idea. If they couldn't get Mike and Melissa apart, then maybe they could change the way Mike saw her. Maybe he could still see her, since it seemed like there was no avoiding that, but when he did, he would be singing a different tune than the thousands of Sundays previous.

He reviewed the conversation in his head, thinking how it might go. Davy imagined himself walking up to Mike while he was alone, watching television maybe. He'd ask if he could talk to him, choosing his tone of voice very carefully to show that it wasn't a matter to be dealt with lightly. He then would sit down next to Mike, taking in a deep breath.

"Mike, there's something I need to tell you," Davy would say, holding his book firmly in his hands. Mike would give him the words to continue, and Davy would say, "This book. It holds a lot of secrets. Everything in this book is real. Everything that it says happened did happen." He would give an amused scoff here. "You could say it was the life story of the Monkees."

He imagined Mike would lean back, doubt in his eyes, but interest on his face. Mike might say something to suggest doubt, but Davy would continue, "I want you to read it. See if anything familiar comes back to you."

"What do you mean?" Mike would ask.

"You're not right," Davy would confess. "Something is wrong with you, I… I just can't put my finger on it." Even though Davy knew perfectly well what was wrong, he stuck with his denial. "I was hoping maybe if you read this, then you would feel better, act more like yourself. Take warning and be more careful."

"Careful about what?" Mike would ask.

"Careful about our neighbors, the people out there. There's this girl, she's awful. She doesn't seem awful, but she is, trust me. Micky, Peter, and I haven't gotten along with her very well, and I hope you tread carefully if you still decide to interact with her."

"What girl?" Mike asked.

Davy would just shake his head. Let Mike's curiosity get the better of him, he thought. Then he would take the words in the book more seriously. "Just read the book."

"Davy," Davy was shook out of his dreamworld by Peter, who pointed at the bowl of cereal in front of him. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Uh, yeah," Davy said, picking up the spoon and popping it in his mouth.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter asked, diving into his own bowl of cereal.

"I think I might show Mike the book, see if that won't help us keep him from falling in love with Melissa. I'm just thinking about how I might give it to him. Playing it all out in my head, you know?"

"I see," Peter said. "But when are you gonna get Mike alone?"

"Not quite sure yet. Maybe you and Micky can go out and cause chaos this morning while I convince Mike that Melissa is a good-for-nothing, cheating, evil, and manipulative little girl."

Peter laughed. "Chaos is Micky's middle name. You got it, Davy. If you think you can convince Mike to not fall in love with Melissa, then I trust you can do it. If not, what's another Sunday to us?"

Davy groaned at the mention of another Sunday. "I just wanna go home. I'm sick of being here. I'll stick to Mike like glue, I promise."

"Mike?" Davy called. Micky and Peter had long since left to ruin the lives of their neighbors and Davy was now deciding to make his move on Mike. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Davy walked upstairs, calling the guitarist's name. A muffled "In here," came from the bedroom. Davy entered the bedroom, finding Mike, to his surprise, sitting on his bed, Davy's book in his hands.

"What are you doing with that?" Davy asked, his brows crossing at the sight of his book.

"I was… What is this?" Mike asked, holding up the book. It still stung a little to see Mike so out of it, but Davy sighed and went along with it.

"That's mine. I got it from a… a friend. It's the life story of the Monkees, basically." Davy shrugged his shoulders. "Are you enjoying the read?"

"Enjoying it?" Mike asked, looking back down at it. "I'm baffled. None of this ever happened."

"I'm afraid it did, man," Davy sighed. "What part are you at?"

"Your grandfather came and is trying to take you back to England," Mike said with more confusion than fact. "I've never even met your grandfather."

"Fast forward then… A lot. Here, let me see it," Davy took the book from Mike and began flipping pages, muttering summaries of the stories he passed. When he got to the beginning of the first trial, he handed the book back to Mike. "Read from there to now."

"There to… now?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, when I touch it it records everything I've done up until this point." Davy said with snide amusement. Mike cocked an eyebrow, but did not argue any further. He looked down at the book in his lap and began reading. Davy, somewhat relieved that it took less work than he thought to get the Texan to read his book, decided to leave the bedroom, but not wandering too far as to keep an eye on Mike. He also kept an eye on all the windows to make sure no one broke in again.

The strangers took us to a studio where we could play our instruments. We set up the instruments while the strangers went to sit in the booth above the studio. They looked down on us like we were a joke, too good to be true. Mike, Micky, Peter, and I all agreed we should start with 'Last Train to Clarksville.' We sang the song as though we had been playing it since the time we were born. I took a glance up at the strangers in the booth. Their looks had changed from skepticism to utter disbelief...

A young blonde then came to me. She smiled down at me and asked if I was okay. We made small talk before revealing our names. I told her my name was David, assuming Davy was not a common nickname in 2016. She said her name was Saint Matthew. She insisted I call her Matthew, though. That's when she kissed me. Immediately she apologized, but I liked it. Her soft lips felt cool and exciting against mine. I told her that it was okay, then I kissed her. However, after that, I don't know what happened. It was as if there was a split between my body and mind...

As the book burned, the words of the Monkees echoed in the great valley, bringing light to their situation. All seven men sang the words they knew so well…

The fire was fierce. We all averted our eyes from the heat that penetrated the air from the flame that came from the urn. Mike, Micky, and Peter all helped the others stand. I stood between them and the flame, unsure what we were to do. We all just stood and marvelled at the flame. Suddenly, a figure began to emerge from the flames. As it took shape and began to step out of the flame, I realized it was me. The man from my dream. The old Davy Jones who would die in 2012...

Everything in the neighborhood was uniform. Each house looked exactly like the other, neighbors acted very civil like with one another, and it felt like the only unique thing in the neighborhood was us, the Monkees. None of us were quite sure what we had just woken up into…

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her dark brown hair fell majestically across her fair shoulders, complimenting her bright, glass-like eyes. Her face was perfect. She was perfect. Naturally, I introduced myself. However, I do confess that there might have been a star-struck tone to my introduction. Whatever conversation was going on was nearly lost to me. She, Melissa, was so beautiful…

When Mike spoke to Melissa, I noticed, his train of thought never quite made it to its destination. I watched as he arranged his date with Melissa, simply struck in awe. I wondered if he had completely forgotten about the true nature of our predicament. I wonder if he had, in that moment, forgotten the trials and the gypsy and the three old Monkees we had just met. He was truly in love, I could tell, but there was something concerning about Mike's lovestruck behavior…

We raced in, Micky between us both. I noticed Mike and Melissa jump from the couch, Mike running to our aid. I let him take my spot beside Micky, him and Peter dragging the drummer into the kitchen. Melissa moved to follow, but I couldn't help but ask her what her business was here. She said, "I brought some food over for Michael," which was the first thing that struck me as odd. Michael was the code word for serious trouble. No called Mike Michael…

Micky ran through the door, Peter and I following close behind. We expected to find Melissa and Mike, sitting inches apart, but only found Mike, out cold on the floor. It was like she just vanished. Micky ran to the window and declared that the ladder was still there as Peter and I tried reviving our fallen leader. We started yelling at each other, as one does in a stressful situation. We all knew deep down we didn't mean it, but the stress escalated quickly all the same. That's when the gypsy appeared…

"Davy?" Mike called, book clutched in his arms. Davy, who was sitting on the couch watching television, peaked his head over the back of the couch to see Mike coming down the stairs.

"Hey," Davy said, adjusting himself so Mike could join him. "You finished?"

"Yeah," Mike admitted, handing the book back to the Englishman and sitting on the couch with him. "I… I don't know what to think."

"It's true, you know," Davy pushed, peeking inside the book to see it bring itself up to date.

Mike couldn't bring himself to speak. There was this guilt he felt. He did not feel guilty for reading the book, nor did he feel guilty for the stories that happened within it. Rather, it was a guilt that he couldn't remember any of it happening. "So…" Mike tried. "I'm just like… like them? Our neighbors?"

"Yeah," Davy admitted.

"So I'll forget all of this tomorrow?" Mike asked.

Davy shrugged. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry man," Mike groaned.

"It's not your fault," Davy said. "We think the last part of the puzzle is you. As long as you don't fall in love with Melissa, or at pretend you don't love her, hopefully you'll get your proper memories back and we can go home."

"I hope so," Mike said. "It's hard to believe a lot of what's in there."

"But do you believe it?" Davy asked.

Mike shrugged. "A little, yeah. I mean, the part about you letting me read the book was in there, which is kind of freaky, but proof enough that it's true."

Davy couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks mate."

"So, I just have to not fall in love for the rest of the day, right?" Mike asked.

"Right," Davy said confidently.

"Well then," Mike smiled. "Let's go find Micky and Peter and throw this party for Andrew Duncan."