Chapter 16- Someday Man
After a while the excitement died down and the Monkees joined their neighbors, laughing and smiling. It could not have been a better night. In their opinion, this was the best Sunday thus far. They all just hoped that it was enough to get them out of here and onto the next trial. Melissa ended up leaving shortly after another cocky rejection from Mike. All in all, the Monkees felt great.
Peter went inside to get another glass of punch for himself. When he entered, he was greeted by Mrs. Gray, who was also pouring herself some punch.
"Punch dear?" Mrs. Gray asked.
"Yes please," Peter said, walking up to her and accepting a glass from her.
"You four are quite fine musicians," She commented, picking up her glass and taking a sip.
"We've been doing it for a while," Peter said. "So I hope we would be good."
"I remember a time when music was based on passion and commitment, not skill and practice."
"We have that too," Peter commented. "Too much of it, some people say."
"Do they?" Mrs. Gray asked.
Peter shrugged. "Well, not really. They usually say something more along the lines of, "If you don't get out of my establishment in five minutes I'll call the police on you!" And then we run because usually we're being kicked out for accidentally breaking something, causing a fight among the patrons, or failing to perform due to a curse or something."
Mrs. Gray laughed. "You miss it, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."
"Miss what?" Peter asked.
"Your home, your life. You wish you could take it all back to have your little beach house, your gigs every now and again, as well as your crazy adventures. Living and running and playing your music. You miss it all, I can tell."
Peter's eyes widened. "How do you know about-"
"I know a lot about a lot of things, Peter. I'm a very old woman, you know. I have seen true love and heartbreak. I have seen birth and death. I have seen people succeed and fail. I have seen sacrifices made and greed kill. There's a lot I don't know about you Monkees, but there is one thing I do know for certain, Peter."
"And what is that?"
Mrs. Gray beamed. "I know that with your performance of "Pleasant Valley Sunday" and Mike's defiance of love against Melissa, you boys have finished the second trial."
"We did?!" Peter exclaimed.
"I'm your guide to the next trial. I am the one who will send you there."
"That's… That's great!" Peter exclaimed. He gave Mrs. Gray a great big hug. "Thank you, thank you! Let me go get the others!"
When Peter left, all Mrs. Gray could do was laugh. She did love those boys.
Peter raced out of the house, darting around, finding each Monkee and telling them the great news. Once the words processed, they too beamed with joy, running up to the house. They asked her if it was true. They asked if she really was their guide to the next trial. They asked her trivial questions about the gypsy and the trials that she in turn, refused to answer. When they were all together, she guided them over to her house, reminding Davy to grab his book on the way out.
"Do you know what happened during the first trial?" Mike asked as Mrs. Gray began to unlock her door.
"Oh yes dear," Mrs. Gray said. "I've been keeping a good eye on you lot for a while now to make sure you would pass. Mike dear, you had me worried for a while when you lost your memory to Melissa."
"Are you a gypsy as well then? Like the gypsy who sent us into these trials in the first place? Do you know her?" Davy asked, hugging his book.
"Oh she and I go way back," Mrs. Gray said laughed. "I taught her how to be a gypsy, you know. I taught her how to do what she does. She even requested my help for this trial because she was afraid she had done something wrong."
"What did she do wrong?" Micky asked.
"She let Melissa in. Melissa was supposed to be a generic neighbor, one who does the same thing everyday. Originally she wasn't supposed to woo Michael, but when her character was corrupted, my dear apprentice could not control Melissa's character anymore. I had to help her reset Melissa, but we couldn't reprogram her attraction towards Michael. Oh my dear girl, she's a feisty one, but sometimes she lets her guard down and slips up. Don't blame her though, I ask of you. She's only just learning. "
"Character, what do you mean by character?" Davy asked. However Mrs. Gray ignored this question, jiggling her doorknob a little bit.
"There we are!" She beamed. "That should do it. Now when you go through this door, you will be taken to the next trial. After I enter, of course. But before I do, there are some things I must warn you about before you go in head first to this last trial."
Mrs. Gray took a moment to straighten her dress and fix her glasses. "First, don't let this all go to your head. Knowing you four, you're going to want to rush through it, trying all sorts of crazy things to figure out what "terrible" decision you have to make. Don't do that. Let the decision come to you."
"How will we know when we have made it, or have to make it?" Micky asked.
"Trust me, you'll know. I know you're all smart enough to figure it out. Now second, you each have to make a decision yourself, it is not collective. Some of you might be in the trial longer than others, and that's okay. Take your time, I beg of you."
"How will we know when we've completed the trial then?" Davy asked.
"Again, I trust you will figure it out on your own," Mrs. Gray said. "And finally, don't give up on each other. It may be tempting at times, but you four are fine musicians and to see you break up would be tragic. You can make it work, I know you can."
"Thanks Mrs. Gray," Mike said.
"We sure appreciate all you did to help us," Peter said as she opened the door.
"It's my pleasure, Peter," Mrs. Gray said. "I am a huge fan, after all. My grandkids got me hooked." She laughed a little before entering through the doorway, disappearing into a shadow of darkness. The Monkees looked on in awe before Mike stepped forward.
"Well, here goes nothing…" He stepped through the door, disappearing as Mrs. Gray did. Micky and Peter followed suit. Davy turned, taking one last look at the lit up house he had lived in for a while now, smiling before stepping through the door, his consciousness fading and darkness bringing him to rest. He would never have to relive another Pleasant Valley Sunday ever again.