Author's notes: I wasn't particularly inspired by the next few episodes of the Monkees, I just couldn't really get into writing their stories. So, I did what I always do when I'm bored and there's no new material: I re-read some of my favorites. That's when I was inspred to write this, based on chapter 2 of Crystal Rose of Pollux's Lone Star and Union Jack, so the story that Mike and Davy tell here belongs to her. I love that chapter, and I still get the giggles every time I think about it. In fact, I was laughing the whole time I wrote this chapter, and I'm laughing right now as I write this forward. It just struck me as I was reading it, wouldn't Micky and Peter wonder why they didn't have a stove? I know I would. So then this happened. Enjoy!

Nothing particularly interesting had been going on that day, there were no spies, no gang members, no kidnappers... all in all, the day had been rather boring, and Micky found himself wandering the pad with no thought in mind but to do something.

Opening the refrigerator, he took a look inside. Empty, just like it had been the last time he checked, which was twenty minutes ago.

He shut the fridge and walked over to the living area, where Mike was reading newspaper ads and Peter was sitting strumming on his bass. "Hey, you wanna go to the beach?" He asked them. "Nah," Peter said. "We went to the beach yesterday. Besides, it looks like it might rain."

"How about you, Mike?" Micky asked. Mike shook his head. "Sorry, Mick," he said. "But we gotta find a gig by the end of this week, or we're not gonna be able to make our next rent payment."

Micky sighed. "Yeah, alright." he said, returning to pacing the pad.

Peter's prediction was correct, and soon enough the rain pelted the windows, pouring down like a waterfall. Without anything else to do, Micky stood and stared at it for several minutes before Mike came and stood next to him.

"Boy, it sure is coming down out there," the Texan muttered. "Why isn't Davy back yet?"

As if on cue, the front door opened and a dripping wet Davy entered the pad, panting as if he'd been running.

"Davy, what happened?" Peter asked, looking at him. Davy laughed. "What'd'ja think happened?" He said. "I got caught out in the rain. Ran all the way from the supermarket to get here."

"Well, go dry off, you're dripping all over the floor," Mike said, sitting back down now that he knew Davy was safe.

Micky sighed exasperatedly as Davy went upstairs to get changed into some dry clothes. "I'm so bored!" He exclaimed. "What are we supposed to do? We're trapped in this small house, there's nothing to do! The walls are closing in on me! I NEED TO GET OUT!"

"Would you calm down, Micky? You're distracting me!" Mike pleaded from the couch, without bothering to look up at him. "I know you're restless, but there's nothing we can do about it but wait until the storm passes."

"Storm?" Micky asked. "Why'd you say storm?"

"Cause I read the next scene," Mike deadpanned. Wait what? Scene? Didn't Mike know this wasn't the TV show? This was fanfic, by golly! He probably meant paragraph.

CRASH! Lightning struck outside as the fourth wall repaired itself, and Micky turned to the window with a start.

"Man, now it really is a storm!" He said. "Look at the size of those storm clouds! Wow, it sure is getting dark out there."

"Yep, it is." Mike said absently. Micky turned back to the room. "Come on," he said. "Let's do something!"

"Well, what do you propose we do?" Mike said irritably, putting the newspaper down. "Since you're so determined to not let me look for a job."

"Well, I don't know," Micky said with a shrug. "We could rehearse or something. ANYTHING beats sitting around and doing nothing at all!"

"That is true," Peter said. "We could rehearse for awhile. At least a couple of songs. Maybe if Micky gets rid of his energy by playing the drums, he'll be more likely to sit still when we've finished."

Mike sighed, but he agreed to rehearse a song.

"Davy!" Peter called up the stairs. "Hurry up, we're gonna rehearse!"

"I'll be down in a minute," Davy called from upstairs. "He'll be down in a minute," Peter reported to Mike, who had been standing right next to him and had heard everything. "Thanks Pete," he said dryly.

That was when all the lights went off. "Oh, this is just great!" Mike grumbled. "On top of everything else, the storm took out or power!"

"Boy, Mike, you sure are grumpy today," Micky commented. "What? No I'm not!" Mike said. "Yes you are," Micky insisted, unable to see anything in the darkness. "Tell him, Peter!"

"W-well, maybe a little," Peter said quietly. "M-Micky, Please g-get the c-candle."

Oh yeah. Peter didn't like the dark very much. "Yeah, I'm on it," he said, turning and feeling his way for the kitchen counter.

"Hey, why are all the lights off?" They heard Davy say from the top of the stairs. "Did the power go out? It's out in our room, too."

"Davy, be careful coming down the stairs," Mike said, but with a yelp and several thumps, it was obvious that his warning had come too late.

Micky bumped into the kitchen counter then, and he snickered as he edged the way around to the cupboard where they kept their emergency supplies.

"Now, what did I just say?" Mike was saying. "Wouldn't know, would I?" Davy replied cheekily. "I was too busy testing the durability of the stair-steps. Second one from the top creaks."

"Oh, does it?" Mike shot back with a snicker. Nobody could lift his bad moods quite like Davy.

Micky opened the door to the emergency supply cupboard and reached in, feeling around with his fingers, looking for the candle sticks and matches. His hands brushed across several of the other emergency supplies, the rock to throw at intruders, the blow horn in case of tornados, the two soup cans connected by a string in case the phone lines were down and they needed to call for help... Ah!

Pulling the large candle out of the cupboard, he reached around for the matches and struggled for a moment trying to get one to light. It finally did, and a portion of the room was illuminated in the light of the small flame.

The area directly in front of him came into focus, the hot plate and toaster oven that sat on the countertop. Micky set the candle down on a plate placed next to the toaster oven and held the match up to the wick until it caught.

Picking up the plate, Micky turned to the rest of the room and carefully carried the candle over to the living area and set the plate down on the coffee table. Peter sat down on the couch, looking a bit spooked but no doubt feeling better now that there was a little bit of light. Davy and Mike made their way to the living area and also sat down, Mike taking the couch next to Peter and Davy opting to sit on the floor. Micky sat down on a nearby chair and sighed.

"I guess rehearsing's out of the question now, huh?" He asked. Mike chuckled. "What do you think?" He asked. He looked at the newspaper, but didn't pick it up. With the lighting as dim as it was, reading the small print could really be bad for your eyes.

"Well, now what am I supposed to do?" Micky whined. Yes, he really was that restless.

"I don't know, try to be quiet and give us a moments peace?" Davy said. "Think of something to keep yourself entertained."

Micky rolled his eyes, but oddly enough, something did cross his mind. Something that he'd often wondered about but never really took the time to question.

"Hey Mike?" He asked. The Texan took a deep breath before answering. "Yes?" He asked. Micky smirked in the candle light. He still possessed the ability to drive people crazy when he was restless. His mom used to pay him to leave the house whenever he got like this as a kid. Mike was much more patient.

"You were the first one to live here at the pad, right?" He asked. Mike nodded. "Yep," he said. "Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering why there's no stove or oven," Micky said. "Did the apartment come like that, or what?"

There was a moment of silence, and Micky saw a strange look come over Mike's face.

Then both he and Davy burst into laughter.

Micky was confused. "What?" Micky asked, when the two had finally calmed down a bit. "What's so funny?"

Mike and Davy didn't answer, instead, they just burst into laughter once more. Micky turned to Peter, who shrugged, obviously just as confused as he was.

"Well," Mike began, wiping his eyes. "It all started a few months after Davy moved in..."

That was as far as he got before the laughter overtook him again, and Davy picked up on the story. "We didn't really interact much, he and I," he said. "We were just roommates so we could afford the rent. That was it."

Mike had stopped laughing now, and took a deep calming breath. "We tried to stay out of each others way, and it worked. Sometimes we would go for a week without even seeing each other."

Micky was surprised. He hadn't ever really thought of a time when Mike and Davy hadn't been friends. But apparently, there had been such a time.

Davy continued the story. "He used to make this nasty smelling stuff every Sunday," He said with a giggle.

"It wasn't nasty, it was garlic toast," Mike said, half joking, half defensive. "Doesn't matter what you called it," Davy said. "It was nasty to me. So one Sunday, I decided to fight back."

"Oh no," Micky said, as Mike succumbed to laughter once more.

Davy nodded smugly. "I got a bit of sauerkraut," he said. "Boiled it up so he would smell it."

"And boy, did I smell it," Mike said, still laughing. "Came out here to see what on earth he could have possibly done, and there he was, sitting there and looking at me all smug. I knew right then what was going on."

Davy was laughing the hardest now, clutching his side as Mike kept talking.

"I went to the fridge, 'cause I knew there was a fish in there."

"No way," Micky said. "A fish? Where'd you get a fish?"

"I don't even remember now, it was years ago," Mike said. "But I can tell you one thing; it wasn't fresh!"

"So then he started frying it up," Davy said. "And it smelled so bad I had to leave the pad and go walk down the beach!"

"You mean he won?" Micky asked. Mike laughed. "Oh no," he said. "I'm still not entirely sure what that glob of stuff was he cooked up next."

Micky and Peter looked at Davy, who had a gleam in his eye as he said "Stilton Blue Cheese."

Micky's jaw dropped and Peter laughed himself. "Oh Davy," he said. "You didn't!"

"Oh, but I did!" Davy said. "Put it in a pot and melted it down so he would smell it. I still remember the look on his face when I asked if he surrendered. He had his hat over his face, you know, like a gasmask, and-" He couldn't go any further, because he burst into giggles once again.

"What did you do? What did you do?" Peter asked, turning to Mike with a grin. Mike laughed as he said "I looked at him, standing there all smug and proud of himself, and I said "Never." The war was on, after that."

"I grabbed everything I could think of, cooking it all up together to make it smell bad," Davy managed to say in between giggles. Mike was still laughing, and by now, Micky and Peter had joined him.

"I was doing the same thing," Mike said. "Wasted almost all of my leftovers, trying to stink up my own house."

"At one point, I managed to burn a can of spinach paste," Davy said. "Nastiest thing I'd ever smelt. Well, before what he did next, that is."

Peter didn't even have to ask this time, Mike laughed hard and then took another deep breath, wiping his eyes before replying in a shaky voice, "I made my Aunt Kate's Volcano Chili," he said. "Except I doubled everything in it that smelled."

They all laughed as he tried to keep steady so he could finish his story. "Onions, garlic, and every pepper we had in the house. Green peppers, banana peppers, a ton of chili peppers, and about a dozen habanero peppers on top of that."

"I could hardly breathe, I had to stick me head out the window," Davy said, laughing still. "I can still smell it sometimes, when I close my eyes and think about it."

"I'll admit, it was a bit too much for me too," Mike said. "I ended up sharing the window with Davy."

"That's when Mr. Babbit came crashing in," Davy said, giggling.

"Ohhhh," Micky and Peter said with a laugh. Now it all made sense.

"Told us we were lowering the property value," Mike added. "Made us go out and bury the whole slew of it on the beach."

"Only the seagulls got to it before we could do that," Davy said. "Who would've thought they liked garlic toast, sauerkraut, fried fish, stilton cheese, volcano chili and Everything Pudding?"

"How'd you explain it to Mr. Babbit?" Micky asked, clutching his side.

"Told him we were trying to make breakfast," Davy said with a grin. "I'm not sure he believed us, but he was too busy yelling to call our bluff."

"He sent someone over to take the stove that very week," Mike said. "That's the fastest I've ever seen him do something for home improvement."

This earned another bout of laughter, and when they were finally quieted down enough, Davy turned to them with a grin. "You know what Mike said then?" He said. "What?" Peter and Micky both asked. "He said-" Davy stopped to choke back his laugh. "He said... "This is why we can't have nice things"."

They all laughed once more. "Man, I haven't thought of that day in a long time," Mike said, once they were finally quieted down. "Yeah, me neither," Davy said. "You know, that was the first time we ever hung out," he said, looking at Mike.

Mike nodded. "I remember," He said. "Two loners, two independent types, wanting nothing really to do with each other."

"Man, I can hardly imagine that," Peter said. "I mean, you've been best friends for as long as I've known you, I just can't imagine you ever being anything else."

"Yeah, I can hardly imagine it now myself," Mike admitted. "I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for Tiny over here. Or the two of you, really. I feel like I just wouldn't be me if you all weren't a part of it."

"Yeah," Davy agreed. "Me neither."

Micky and Peter both voiced their assent, and everyone was quiet for awhile.

"So what about you two?" Davy asked suddenly. "How'd you guys meet?"

"Oh..." Micky said, blushing a little. "I ran into him."

Davy and Mike both stared. "You... ran into him?" Mike asked, confused. Micky nodded. "Literally," he said. "He was standing there, and I was running, and I didn't see him, and..."

"Oh," Davy said, laughing. "Great start to a friendship, right there," He said.

Peter laughed. "You'd better believe it," he said.

And as the power outage continued and the storm raged outside, Peter and Micky began their tale.

But now Micky knew. Now it all made sense why they didn't have a stove or an oven. He was glad he'd asked, that little story of Mike and Davy's was a piece of genius, he hadn't heard anything that funny in a long time. People had always been easily frustrated whenever Micky had a bunch of questions, but didn't they see that unless you asked a question, you'd never hear the answer? The only way to learn was to ask.

And if there was anything Micky liked to do, it was ask questions.