Ok, let's get the guys started on their first practice. Everyone ready to play? ;)

Micky: I'm ready! :)

Peter: I'm always ready to play! :D

Davy: (Holds up a maraca) I'm armed and dangerous. ;)

Mike: Hooooooooo boy. :p

Micky: Oh brother. :P

(We begin in Davy and Mike's apartment, which is pretty much a small box with a tiny sink, stove, and refrigerator on one side, an old matress and dresser on another wall, a couch with a blanket on it and a chair that's losing its stuffing on the third, a crateful of records, a record player, a guitar case, and a tambourine and set of blue maracas on the fourth, and a TV and table in the middle. Davy and Mike are pushing the table to one side when there's a knock on the door.)

Davy: I'll get it. It's probably the guys. (Davy opens the door; it's Micky surrounded by his drum set. Davy grins cheekily) Oh, sorry, wrong apartment. ;)

Micky: Oh, thanks a lot! :P

Mike: (Grabs the door just as Davy is about to close it) Cut that out. (Picks up a tom-tom) Come on, let's get this stuff in, before Mrs. Benton sees it. She don't like it when people leave stuff for others to trip over in the hallway, and she ain't crazy about the noise we make to begin with. :p

Micky: Thanks, man. *puffs* It's a real pain lugging this kit around! I wish my cart hadn't broken down. :P

(The guys drag Micky's drum kit in the room and start setting it up in the empty spot in the middle where the table and TV were.)

Micky: Make sure you set it up for a lefty! ;)

Davy: You're left-'anded, mate?

Micky: *shakes his head* No, but that's the way I always set the kit up. *shrugs* That's just how I play. I play right-handed, but left-footed. Go figure. ;)

Mike: (Shrugs) Hey, if it works for you...

Micky: It seems to. ;)

(There's another knock at the door. Davy leaves Mike and Micky to finish with the drum set and opens the door to find Peter standing there with a banjo case, a bass case, and a battered notebook.)

Peter: (Shyly) Is this the right place?

Davy: Sure is, Petah! Come on in and join the madness. ;)

Peter: Ok. (He walks into the living room, looking around) It kind of looks like my place, but bigger. I'm living with a friend of mine, Stephan Stills. He's the one who suggested I try the amateur show at the Troubador. He's played there a couple of times. :)

Mike: Ok, guys, take a seat. There's drinks in the fridge. We got iced tea for you, Pete. Dave likes tea. Don't ask for food. All we have is a can of bean soup and a couple of bananas that are older than this building.

Micky: I KNEW I should've brought some food. :P ;)

Peter: We don't have any, either. :p

(Davy pours iced tea into jelly jars as Mike goes to the guitar case on one of the walls. He gently unlocks the case and removes a beautiful black twelve-string guitar. Peter gasps and joins Mike on the floor.)

Peter: That's gorgeous! :o

Mike: Ain't she fabulous? She's the most beautiful thing I've ever known. I even named her. I call her "Black Beauty." :X

Davy: 'E treats that thing bettah than some mothahs treat their children. :p

Micky: At least he has a hobby. *grins* ;)

Mike: I've written all of my best songs on her. It cost me every cent I made working for that god-awful little grocery store in Dallas two summers ago, but it was worth it. :X

Peter: Wow... :X

Davy: (Rolls his eyes and nods at Micky) Look at those two, droolin' over a guitar! :p

Mike: Hey, Dave, you'll hurt her feelin's! ;) :p

Micky: HER feelin's? Oh please. :P

Peter: Yeah, Davy, give her some respect! :p

Micky: It's an inanimate object! It doesn't have feelings!

Peter: (Leans over to touch Black Beauty) I'll bet she does.

Mike: (Pulls Black Beauty away) Um, Pete, I really prefer handlin' her myself.

Peter: Um, ok, Michael. (Stands) Well, now that you have her out, let's play! (Goes to his case and pulls out a second-hand bass) I picked this up at a store in New York when I was living there. Cost ME a lot, too, but it works really well. :)

Mike: (Pulls out a bunch of sheet music) I got a coupla songs, and I know folks who write songs.

Peter: Me too! :D

Mike: You write songs?

Peter: (Nods eagerly) I love writing songs! That's what this is! (Holds up the notebook) :D

Micky: *whistles* Man, that's a lot of songs!

Peter: And I could get songs from some of my friends at the clubs! :D

Davy: I know people in New York I could call who are damn good songwritahs. They've even 'ad a few 'its. ;)

Mike: How 'bout you, Mick?

Micky: I don't know if they're GOOD, but I know a lot of songwriters, mainly other guys I've played in bands with.

Mike: We'll get on the phone as soon as we're done here.

Davy: No we won't, Mike. The phone's off, remember? We haven't paid the bill in two months. :p

Mike: We'll just dig around for quarters and use a booth. :p

Micky: I'd offer mine, but I don't know how well that'd go over over with Mom, or my sisters, for that matter. ;) :P

Peter: Ours is out, too. We paid the bill, but we live in an old building and the electricity acts weird sometimes. :p

Mike: We'll just use a booth, then. (Gives everyone sheet music) Let's start with the one I was doin' last night. It ain't hard, and it's one of my better songs.

Davy: "Papa Gene's Blues," right?

Mike: You got it, Dave. Everyone ready?

Peter: When it comes to music, always! :D

Micky: *twirls his sticks* You betcha! :)

Mike: Ok, guys. (Counts off, and we go into a general performance video for "Papa Gene's Blues." About half-way through the song, we cut to an older woman with her hair in curlers. She's got a phone in one hand and grabs a broom with the other, thumping on the celing. She finally puts down the phone and the broom and storms out of the room. Cut back to the boys as they finish up the song.)

Mike: Not bad.

Peter: Hey, that was really groovy! :D

Davy: I think we've got somethin' 'ere. :)

Micky: I like it! :)

Mike: Let's run through it again. I thought the end was a little shaky.

(As he's about to count off again, there's a loud knock on the door.)

Davy: I'll 'andle 'er, Mike. (He puts his tambourine on the table and opens the door. The old lady is on the other side grumbling.) Why Mrs. Benton, you're looking particuarly lovely today. ;)

Mrs. Benton: Stuff it, shorty. What's with the racket again?

Mike: We're startin' a band.

Mrs. Benton: Could you start it somewhere else? I get complaints from half the building everytime you two play that racket you call music.

Micky: *under his breath* Racket?

Peter: What's wrong with our music? :(

Mike: Ain't nothin' wrong with it that more appreciative neighbors couldn't fix. :p

Mrs. Benton: Look, I put up with you not payin' bills and the rent, but the music has got to be turned down or turned off! People are tryin' to live their own lives and you're wakin' them up! :p

Mike: We've gotta rehearse!

Mrs. Benton: Rehearse outside! Rehearse in the Pacific Ocean, for all I care! Just don't do it HERE! :P

(She slams out of the door. Peter starts to cry.)

Peter: I thought we were doing great! :((

Mike: We were, Pete. She's just a bitch.

Davy: She does 'ave a point about the neighbors, though.

Micky: I get the feeling we're gonna need to find a place to rehearse that’s NOT around other people. I usually end up practicing in the college gym because no one can stand listening to me! :P

Mike: That might not be a bad idea until we can find a place of our own. (Sighs) I've been wantin' an excuse to move out of this joint, anyway.

Davy: Yeah, but where will we go?

Peter: We have room! I could take one of you! :D

Micky: I could probably find a closet that's free for Dave. ;)

Davy: (Shrugs) It ain't like I 'aven't lived wit' sistahs before. ;)

Micky: You don't know MY sisters. ;) >:)

Davy: Can't be any worse than mine, mate. ;)

Micky: I'll let you be the judge of that. ;)

Mike: Yeah, that's a good idea. Davy, you stay with Mick until we can get organized. I'll stay with Pete.

Peter: I'm sure Stephan wouldn't mind! We've taken in friends who didn't have a place to stay before. :)

Mike: For now, we need a place to practice that won't drive the neighbors around the bend. After practice is done, we'll go to the old lady and tell her we're movin' out.

Peter: Do you know if that gym's open, Mick?

Micky: I think I could swing us some time in there.

Mike: Great. Let's haul it out. We'll all carry everything and stick it in my Woody downstairs.

Micky: Alright!

Mike: (Voice over narration as we fade out) Davy and I did end up movin' outta that dump. I went with Pete n' Stephan for a while and Davy moved in with Mick and his family. We practiced in the gym, the park, empty ballrooms and bars, anywhere we could get space and not annoy people. It took us a couple of months to finally find a job that paid enough to find a place, though. I think it was around the time we gave Micky's mom a free concert....

*We open several months later in Micky's living room. The instruments are set up and the boys are playing "I'll Be Back Up On My Feet.* Micky's mom Janelle watches them on the couch.*

(The boys are even better this time around, more into the spirit of the thing. Their sounds are melding better, too. Peter beams, his fingers gliding easily over the bass. Mike pays attention to the chords on Black Beauty. Davy struts in front of the stage, dancing and shaking his tambourine. ;) )

*Micky shows off, twirling his sticks and catching them them for a change.* ;)

(Davy takes a bow when the song comes to an end.)

Davy: Thank you. I love ya, baby. Don't ever change. ;)

*Micky taps a riff off Davy's head.* ;) :P

Mike: Dave, cool it. (To Jannelle) Well, Mrs. S?

Janelle: I loved it, boys! You sound so good together. :)

Peter: (Beams as Davy laughs and swats at Micky) Thank you, Mrs. Scott! :)

Mike: Yeah, we're gettin' better.

Davy: You think we could finally get a gig now?

Janelle: I don't see any reason why not. :)

Micky: Awe, Mom, you'd better not just be saying that! ;)

Janelle: I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it.

Peter: Thank you, Mrs. Scott! (Puts down the bass and gives her a huge hug) :D

Janelle: Peter, dear, you give a great hug! :D ;)

Peter: Thank you! :D

Davy: Bettah be careful, Pete. You're gonna make Mr. Scott jealous. ;)

(Peter blushes. :">)

Janelle: *laughs and kisses Peter's cheek* I wouldn't LET him be jealous. :)

Peter: Awwwwww... :D

Mike: Ok, ok. (Sighs) Dave and I have been talkin' with the guy who owns the record store where we work, Rudy, and he says he's interested in bein' our manager. He manages a couple of other bands in the area.

Micky: Groovy, man!

Davy: He knows great places for gigs, mate! He says 'e could get us a bookin' at the Vincent Van Go-Go this Friday! :D

Peter: Wow, that's AWESOME! The Van Go-Go's that new place on Main Street and Fifth, right?

Mike: Yeah. Apparently, Rudy's friendly with one of the managers and got them to showcase some of his bands.

Davy: Yeah, and we're one of them. :D

Mike: You're just interested in his girl Jill, Dave.

Davy: She's a bonus. ;)

Peter: (Sighs) I can't believe it! I'm a part of a band! :D

Micky: This is great! I've been waiting so long to actually be a real part of a band! I think this calls for a celebration, guys! :D

Davy: Let's dig into your mothah's chocolate chip cookies, if the lovely ladies left any. ;) :p

Mike: How about a drive in the Woody? ;)

Peter: Sure! We could go to the beach and have a picnic! I don't work until late tonight! :D

Micky: How about all of the above? ;) :D

Mike: Sounds good to me. I'm off work and Dave had the early shift.

Peter: Hey, Mick, how's your classes coming? :)

Micky: They're coming, slowly. *sighs* You know, I want so badly to build things, but I really wanna go full force with the band, too. *glances at Janelle* I was thinking of taking some time off from school.

Mike: (Nods) The band needs you, Mick. You're an incredible drummer.

Davy: Yeah, but I know you like the classes. I've seen all the models in your room. ;)

Micky: It was a tough decision, but I figured this way would be best. :) Besides, I can still tinker around and such.

Janelle: *goes over to him* Micky, I know you'll do the right thing. I trust your judgement. *smiles* Just make sure you remember your mom when you’re a huge star, okay? :) ;)

Micky: *grins* You got it, Mom! *gives her a hug, not quite as smothering as Peter's* ;)

Peter: Of course we'll remember you, Mrs. Scott! :)

Mike: Yeah, you were our first audience. ;)

Janelle: And don't you forget that! ;)

Mike: Come on, guys. Let's go get some grub and head on out.

Davy: Wanna come with us, Jannelle? :)

Mike: Might be too quiet for you here without these two (indicates Davy and Mick) and the rugrattettes. ;)

Janelle: That's okay. You boys go celebrate. *grins and winks* I could use a little peace a quiet. It's tough to come by lately. ;)

Mike: Yeah, man. Four kids around and Dave. How do you do it? ;)

(Peter, Davy, and Micky have already taken off for the kitchen.)

Janelle: Truthfully, I have no idea. Just lots of patience and a good sense of humor. ;)

Mike: (Watches the trio in the kitchen) I'm an only child. This is the closest I've been to havin' brothers and sisters since the time in the 50s when Mom and I were livin' with Aunt Kate and Uncle Pat and my six cousins.

(Mike slowly takes Black Beauty from around his shoulders and places it gently in her case.)

Janelle: You're in for a great experience, then, Michael. You boys are great for each other. :)

Mike: Thanks. I guess I'm just not used to livin' with people. The guys have been great, though. I mean, we fight and stuff, but I've never played in a band that felt like this. I mean, it just seems...right. Like findin' the last pieces of a puzzle you've been wantin' to finish forever.

Janelle: Then hold onto it, cherish it. I can see it. You have something great here. It'll be worth it.

Mike: I sure hope so. I don't really wanna go back to Texas. Ain't nothin' for me there, and I don't get along nearly as well with my stepfather as Mick does with his. Davy was talkin' about goin' back to Manchester and bein' a jockey and helpin' his dad for a while, but he hasn't mentioned it since we started the band.

(The other three emerge with a big blanket and a large cooler full of food. Micky's already eating a sandwich.)

Davy: Geez, Mick, save us a little, ok?

Peter: There's plenty! :)

Micky: This is my appetizer. ;)

Janelle: *grins* Just don't eat everything you boys have packed, Micky. ;)

Micky: I won't Mom. ;)

Peter: I don't think that's possible, Mrs. Scott. We have half the refridgerator in there!

Davy: That'll last Mick an houah, Petah. ;)

Mike: Try five minutes. ;)

Micky: A'right, a'right. :P

Janelle: Have fun, boys. :)

Peter: Thanks, Mrs. Scott!

Mike: (Picks up Black Beauty and Peter's bass) Ok, guys, let's head out.

Micky: *gives Janelle a kiss on the cheek* Bye, Mom!

Davy: (Stands on tip-toe to give Janelle a kiss on the cheek) Thanks for watchin' us and lettin' me stay here these past few months. :)

Janelle: You're welcome, Davy, all of you. :)

Mike: Ok, Mrs. S, we'll bring the boys back to you unharmed in a few hours. Promise. Cowboy's honor. ;)

Janelle: Or else I'm holding you responsible, Cowboy Michael. ;)

Mike: (For once, the crooked grin is genuine) Thanks, Mrs. Scott. I think I already am. ;) (Nods at the guys) Ok, men, let's move 'em out! ;)

Peter: I feel just like one of those western movies where the cowboys are on a cattle drive! :)

(Micky moos. ;) )

Mike: (Laughs and opens the door) Ok, guys, let's go. There's only so much daylight in a day, and I don't wanna eat in the dark. (He herds - pardon the pun - the other three out the door, then turns to Janelle) Thanks again, Mrs. Scott, for everythin'. You're a really nice lady, and Mick's luckier to have you for a mom than he thinks. ;)

Janelle: You're welcome, Michael, and thank you. :)

(Mike finally closes the door, and Janelle goes to the window and watches the guys head out to Mike's Woody as the scene fades out.)