Author's note: This chapter is based off of Season 1 Episode 17, The Case of the Missing Monkee, another one of my favorites.
Having amnesia was definitely the strangest thing he'd ever experienced, not that he really remembered any experiences to compare it with. It was so weird, like that feeling you get when you're certain you've forgotten something important, but can't remember it for the life of you. Except, this wasn't just some detail or item he'd forgotten. It was everything.
He had no idea about anything, who he was, what he was like, where he'd been before. No, everything he knew was living in the hospital for about half an hour.
The doctor who had talked to him told him that he was an amnesia patient and had lived here for two months, and he must have suffered a relapse and forgotten everything. He said not to worry about the headaches and the disorientation, he would be back to his old self in no time. He suggested going to the Physical Therapy room, try to familiarize himself with everything. If he recognized something, his memory could return quicker.
He believed him, I mean, what reason did he have to not trust the doctor? So he did what he was told and, after asking directions from several nurses, he found his way to the physical therapy room and pushed past three other patients who were standing in the door.
"PETER!" They all yelled, startling him. He turned around and looked at them, but nothing came to his mind. He frowned. "I've never seen you before in my life."
They looked confused, but not as confused as Peter was. Had he seen them before? He didn't remember... but, then again, that was what amnesia did. Maybe he'd talked to them over the past few months, gotten to know them a bit before the relapse. They kept talking, but he tuned them out and sat down. He felt funny. Like he was lost or something.
Suddenly, he realized that one of the other patients was grabbing his robe.
"Get your hands off me," he said. "Don't you know who I am?" A thought struck him. The doctor had told him he was an amnesia patient, but he hadn't told him anything else. "Wait a minute," he said. "Who am I?" He felt the side of his face and then bit his fingernails as the other patients began talking to themselves again. He frowned, trying to remember something, anything. It was all just a big blank. He couldn't remember a thing.
The patient who'd been trying to talk to him earlier walked back over to him.
"Uh, Peter, we're gonna try to scare you, so don't be scared."
He nodded, and smiled at the patient. "Okay, go ahead," he said. He supposed they could try whatever they wanted, they were just trying to help. Although, really, that didn't make much sense. How were they supposed to scare him if he was expecting it?
The three patients gathered around him and stood silently for a second, and then they all yelled "BOO!" right in his ear.
He shook his head, the headache had flared up again, but no memories had returned. "Nope," he said. "That don't make it. You gotta do it when I'm not ready."
The three patients walked away a short distance and began talking again. Peter tuned them out. This whole "remembering" thing was really tiring. He supposed when they were done here, he should go back to his room and take a nap. If he could find his room, that is. He didn't want to ask the nurses for help again, they all had looked at him very strange when he'd been asking about the physical therapy room. Maybe the three patients who seemed to know him could- Oh wait, they were talking to him again.
"Oh, hey, Peter, how's it goin'," said the patient in the green hat. "Long time no see!"
"Hey, Pete," Chimed in the patient who'd warned him earlier, patting him on the shoulder as he talked. "So we were having fun the other day..."
"Yeah, it's best we got off," started the short patient.
"BOO!" They all yelled again. He jumped a little, this time, he wasn't expecting it.
"What're you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" He asked, the patients were looking at him with concern, the one with the hat acting like he was looking for something.
"Well, we're sorry, Peter," the short one said. "We were just trying to help you, you know?"
Now Peter felt bad for yelling, of course they were just trying to help him, and to be fair, they had warned him that they were going to try and scare him.
"It's all right, Micky," he said.
He froze. Wait. What? The headache was back, but there was something else there, too. Micky. Who was Micky? The short one wasn't Micky. He put his hand up to his head. Everything was coming back. Meatloaf, and California, and the lipstick under the bed. Saltwater taffy, singing onstage, his bass guitar, a hard black ottoman. A guitar string, red maracas, a spiral staircase, the Monkeemobile...
"Wait, wait," he said, standing up. "My memory, Ahh..."
The Monkees! Mike! Davy! Micky! Performing together at gigs! Gigs, where he'd met professor Shnitzler, and then he was hit on the head, and then he'd woken up here, and the evil guy with the goatee erased his memory. But before that, what had he said? Something about professor Shnitzler... Then it hit him.
"We don't have any time, we don't have any time," he said frantically, turning to Mike. Good ol' Mike, in his green hat. Peter wanted to hug him. But there were more important things to deal with right now. "We gotta get to the pr- they're gonna smuggle the professor out of the country tonight!"
They all rushed to the professor's room (after stopping for directions) and saw that he was still there, unconscious on the bed.
Mike turned to Peter. "How'd the doctor say he was gonna get him out of the country anyway?" He asked. Peter paused. A big blank. Most of his memory had returned, but everything was a little hazy and he still had a few holes.
"I forget," he said, scratching his head. The memory was there, he just couldn't quite remember it.
"He's having a relapse," Mike said to Davy and Micky.
Well, to be fair, the doctor had said it usually took three days to get back to normal. Peter was trying to cram it all in within half an hour. He just hoped he wouldn't be like this until early spring. He'd assumed the evil doctor was just trying to insult him, but there was the possibility he was being honest, and Peter would have a slight memory problem for at least that long. Boy, he hoped that wasn't the case.
There was a sudden knock on the door, and Mike told Peter to play dumb and then the three other Monkees hid. Peter was momentarily confused, but then remembered what was going on.
"Why do I always have to play dumb?" He complained out loud. "Why can't I play smart for a change?"
The door opened and a nurse came in. Peter let out a sigh of relief, he'd been expecting the evil Doctor, and he wasn't sure what the man would do to him if he found Peter sitting in the professor's room when he wasn't even supposed to remember that there was a professor.
The nurse placed an oxygen mask on professor Shnitzler and straightened the blankets, and then she noticed Peter. "Hello there," She said, smiling brightly. Peter smiled back. Well, they told him to play dumb.
"Are they coming to take him away now?" He asked her. She smiled and pointed at him."Oh, what a smart question," she said. Peter smiled as she walked over to him. "Yes," she said. "The Doctor will be here in..." she checked her watch. "A few moments." She smiled again, and then pulled something out of her pocket. "Here," she said, shaking something out of a tin box. "Have a cough drop." He opened his mouth and she dropped the cough drop in. "Aren't they wonderful?" She asked. He nodded, and then it hit.
Like a rocket crashing in his mouth. He jumped up, he couldn't sit still now.
The nurse left the room with a wave. "Bye-bye," she said. As soon as the door closed, Peter looked over the top of the curtained booth the others were hiding behind.
"Okay guys, she's gone," he said. They all rushed out and ran to the professors side while Peter shook his hands, trying to expel some of this energy he was feeling.
Micky was saying something about an ambulance, and then Mike said something about an oxygen mask. Peter wasn't listening.
By the time he was back down to earth, it had been decided. Micky was going to ride the gurney pretending to be the professor, with the other three Monkees underneath, so that if all else failed, the professor would still be in the clinic instead of being smuggled out of the country.
They were wheeled to the operating room, where the evil Doctor was going to try a permanent brainwashing process. Peter wasn't sure what that was, but it sounded evil. And painful.
They all crept out of the room and grabbed the nearest disguise they could find. Then, dressed like doctors, they all re-entered the room and began arguing with the evil doctor over whose patient Micky was.
The evil Doctor had everything ready, and Peter had been right, whatever this permanent brainwashing process was, it was going to be very painful.
The evil doctor walked behind the table to turn on the oxygen, or the gas, whatever was in that tank.
"Okay," Mike said. "Here goes nothing." At that, Micky couldn't help but start to sit up. "Now, wait a minute," he whispered, but Mike shushed him and pushed him back down. Peter saw the evil doctor pause and turn to look at Micky, suspicious.
"You look very nervous, Doctor," Davy said, not having seen the Doctor. "Nervous?" Peter responded. "Don't be silly! Look at how slowly I'm twitching."
They had to get out of here, and fast, before the evil doctor discovered everything and captured them.
But Mike had it handled, like always, and he managed to get the evil doctor arguing again about whose patient it was. Soon, they were pulling at the gurney, spinning it and twisting it until poor Micky was dizzy. That was when the doctor realized who they were.
"It's those musicians!" He exclaimed. That was the cue to run. The chase went through the entire clinic, but finally, they managed to catch the evil doctor and they tied him to the exercise equipment to leave him for the police. Another day in the lives of the Monkees.
About a month later:
They were at the circus, the closed circus. Apparently, nobody came to the circus anymore, so the big top was closing down. They probably would have left by now, but Davy was trying to cheer up a girl, and so they were all hanging around.
Peter watched as the Strong Man struggled with his heavy weights. At least, they were supposed to be heavy. They didn't feel that heavy when the man handed them to Peter.
"I've got to get ready," he explained. "I have so many things to do. You know the Mozzarella Boys are coming."
Peter blinked. He'd heard that name before, he was sure of it. Weren't they supposed to be some great trapeze act, that walked the tightrope with no net, carrying a stack of glasses or something? "No," he said in disbelief. "Really, that- that's wonderful!" The Strong Man walked away. "That's marvelous," Davy also said, albeit not as enthusiastically, standing up as Mike walked over to them. Peter smiled. This news had to be shared.
"Mike," he said. "Mike, the circus is saved! The Mozzarella Brothers are coming!"
Mike looked at him for a second. "Yeah, but, it's, uh, the- the Mozzarella Brothers are us." He pointed at himself and Peter. Peter froze. "...Us?" He asked. Mike nodded. Peter was surprised. "U, S, us?" He said. How could he have forgotten something like that?
"Oh, Peter, you're amazing," Mike said, shaking his head and turning away. Peter felt his stomach drop. The circus wasn't saved after all. "Does that mean I have to carry the glasses?" He asked no one in particular. How could he have forgotten being the Mozzarella Brothers?
He chocked it up to the evil doctor's memory eraser. He still had a little bit of trouble remembering things from time to time, but he was confident he'd get better someday. After all, early spring would get here soon enough.