Clock in the Sky

Chapter Four

Tradition

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I was having an absolutely horrible time writing my research paper, which has to be at least eight pages long (cringe). The next paper we have to write for that class will be a movie or music review. Hopefully, my teacher will let me do it on Head, and that won't be quite as hard. If I can't do Head (as it is 39 years old), I'll probably do it on one of the re-released Monkees albums.

Hey, let me know how you think I'm writing the Monkees' characters. I hope it's all right. Right now I'm working on chapter seven, and it's sort of almost done.

My mom threw her back out on Easter. My poor mommy! She went to the doctor on Wednesday, and they put her on Vicodin. I hope she doesn't get addicted to it like Dr. House from the TV series House.

Kerri: Yay! My first reviewer! (hugs) Thank you very much! To interacting with Audrey more: Oh, the things I have planned! Muahaha! Ahem. Anyway, do you mean how long until the Monkees find out about Audrey? 'Cause you said "she", and I don't get what you meant by that. If you did mean the Monkees, I can't tell you when! That would ruin the ending! I think it's a pretty good ending, too. A very nice, unexpected twist. I'm evil aren't I?

bobthebuilder: Hey, you oughta be nice to the person writing the story. You never know what could happen...muahaha!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kellogg's Rice Krispies, CBS, The Beverly Hillbillies, or Chevron.

Author's Note Part II (02/13/09): This chapter I started mixing things up a bit. I took some from chapter five, so if you've read it before, you might be a little confused.

Disclaimer Part II: I found a picture of the 1965 CBS logo on Wikipedia.

It was almost five in the morning. I had woken up around midnight, and when I realized I was still at the Monkees' pad, that it hadn't just been a dream, I just lay there, slowly beginning to accept the fact that I might be stuck in 1965 with no way to get home. I would not be spending Christmas with my family as I had planned, but in a fictional beach house with four fictional boys. If it hadn't been for that damned locket...

The locket! I thought suddenly, sitting up. If that locket brought me here, then it can take me back.

Guessing that it was probably still on the beach, I got out of bed and put on my jacket and my shoes. Quietly, I crept out of my room and closed the door. I was the only one downstairs, so I assumed the guys were still sleeping. After checking to make sure I wouldn't get locked out, I slipped out onto the veranda and headed down to the beach.

The sky was slowly getting lighter, and the beach was deserted. I thought for a moment about which direction the rocks would be in. The rocks had been shown a few times on Monkees episodes, but I still didn't know how to get to them. Taking a guess, I started walking up the beach. It was about ten minutes before I finally came across a cluster of rocks that looked familiar. After nearly forty-five minutes of desperately searching the sand for the locket, I gave up and sat on a particularly flat rock with my head in my hands.

That locket had been my only hope, but now it was gone, probably picked up by some kid who wanted to meet the Partridge Family. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with the Monkees, as much as I liked them. I had family and friends waiting for me.

I spent a while looking out at the ocean and brooding about my predicament, before I got up and headed back to the pad. Mike, who was sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas eating cereal and reading the morning paper, looked up when I came in.

"Where were you?" he asked. I glanced at the clock on the wall, which read seven thirty. I'd been gone longer than I thought.

I sat down across from him. "I, uh, went for a walk on the beach," I said. "What's that you're eating?"

"Rice Krispies. You want some?"

I nodded. "Sure." He brought me the cereal box, a bowl, and the milk, and I made a mental note of where he got it all. "Thanks," I said, and began preparing a bowl.

He nodded in acknowledgement and continued eating and reading. After a moment, he asked, "You work at eleven today, right?"

"Oh, yeah." I had nearly forgotten.

He looked at me over the top of the paper. "Do you need a ride?"

I shook my head. "I can walk. I paid attention when Micky drove me yesterday."

"The guys and I were gonna get a Christmas tree today." I took another bite of my cereal. This obviously wasn't the second season Christmas episode, since they weren't babysitting that rich kid, whatever his name was, who had been played by Butch Patrick. "Did Rudy say when you get done?"

"Six."

"Well, do you want to come with? We can meet you at the record store then."

I smiled slightly. "Okay. It sounds like fun."

Once I finished my cereal, Mike helped me with the TV (which I really did need help with, since there were so many knobs that I didn't know which to turn). He set it on CBS, which was showing a repeat of The Beverly Hillbillies. I was rather amused with the CBS logo. The letters in 'CBS' were green, blue, and red, and the yellow CBS eye was at the end.

Peter, Micky, and Davy didn't come downstairs until ten, I left at ten-thirty. On the way, I marveled to myself at the cheap prices. The cheapest gas price was $0.29, at a Chevron station. A movie theater was advertising its ticket price of $1.50 as "the cheapest ticket in town!"

At the store, I spent the morning stocking records and making sure all the records were in their proper places. I had lunch with Lynne, a girl about my age I worked with, at a McDonald's down the street. Marveling to myself about the lack of choices and cheap prices, I bought a cheeseburger and a Coca-Cola with the dollar Mike had given me for lunch.

"So," said Lynne, as we sat down in a booth, "Rudy told me you're related to one of the Monkees?"

"Yeah," I said, opening my Coke. "I'm Micky's cousin."

She unwrapped her hamburger. "He's the drummer, isn't he?" I nodded. "I haven't met them yet, but I've seen them play at the Cassandra. Micky's kinda cute." She took a bite.

I shrugged. I'd never been able to decide on a favorite Monkee. I couldn't exactly pick Micky, since I was supposed to be his cousin, and it would be a little weird if I thought my cousin was hot. "They've got a gig at the Cassandra tomorrow night," I said. "If you're not busy, you could come with me and I could introduce you."

She smiled. "That sounds groovy. How 'bout I meet you there at seven?" I agreed, and we finished eating and then headed back to work.

At six, after Rudy let me off, the boys met me outside the shop. We walked to the Christmas tree lot, singing Christmas carols all the way.

We picked out a small tree and then headed back to the pad, Mike and Micky carrying the tree. The tree was placed in the middle of the pad, and I helped Peter bring the ornaments and other decorations in from the garage. Davy put on an album of Christmas music by someone I didn't recognize, and we set to trimming the tree. Everything was going great until Davy decided that he wanted to put the star on top of the tree.

"You're too short, Davy," insisted Micky, who was taping some silver garland to the balcony railing. I giggled.

"Well, this is a small tree," Davy reasoned, giving Micky an annoyed look. "And we've got a ladder."

Mike sighed. "All right. Peter, hold on to the ladder so he don't fall on the tree."

Peter handed me the ornament he had been about to hang and went to hold the ladder. Mike and I stood back to watch, and I doubted that anything would happen if Peter was holding the ladder. But, of course, these guys were the Monkees, so it was bound to happen. Davy somehow managed to hit the tree with his hand so that it fell toward me. I instinctively jumped back, running into Mike, who was caught off guard, and we both fell to the ground in a pile. The ornament fell from my hand, and since it was plastic and not glass, it rolled away.

Peter immediately went to help us up. "Are you two all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Sorry, Mike."

"It's fine." He looked over at Micky, who had slid down the railing, laughing. "It's not that funny, Mick."

"Oh, but it is!" he said, helping Davy pick up the tree. "You have to kiss Audrey now."

Everyone stared at him. "What?" I asked, completely confused. "He has to kiss me for knocking him over?" Society hadn't changed that much since the 60's, had it?

"No, no, no," he said. "You're under the mistletoe, it's a tradition."

Mike and I both looked up. Taped innocently to the underside of the balcony above our heads was a small sprig of mistletoe.

"Where did you get it?" Mike asked. I remembered the time Micky thought he found holly and mistletoe, but it was really poison ivy.

"At the corner store. It's plastic, and it was only a quarter." He grinned at us expectantly. "Well, go on, kiss her!"

My face was burning with embarrassment, and I knew it, which didn't help at all. Mike gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and then said, "There. Now let's finish with the tree. I'd like to get some rehearsal in today."

Micky had a lot of fun with the whole mistletoe thing for the rest of the day. By the time I went to bed that night, I had kissed each of them at least once (Davy had cornered me under it twice, and Peter seemed to keep forgetting to look out for it). I smiled to myself as I turned out the light and got into bed. That girl was right, I thought, thinking of Head, the Monkees movie. It is about the same.

Author's Note: I sure hope I didn't disappoint you people. This isn't my favorite chapter. You'll know which is my favorite chapter when we get to it.