Ok, NOW is everyone ready to get going? ;)

Micky: Ready! :D

Davy: I am.

Peter: Me too.

Mike: Can I get in the story now? :p

(We open back in the ballroom. Mike comes back in just as Daphne finishes her part of the story.)

Mike: That's the last of the trash.

Peter: (Sits next to Valerie) Hey, this is really getting exciting!

Emma: Well, who wants to go next?

Mike: (Sits on the bandstand with a beer) I think it's my turn. I'm the only one who ain't been in the story yet.

Micky: This should be good.

Mike: (Leans back, glugs his beer, then says) Well, Micky, Professor Peter, and Davy needed a good, experienced pilot to take them to Shanghai. Micky knew a bar on the waterfront where pilots liked to hang out...

(Fade out on Mike as he continues; fade in on Micky's Model T, now with Davy and Peter cowering in fear in the seats, pulling up in front of a dilapidated row of buildings on the Los Angeles waterfront.)

Micky: *as the car stops* Here we are!

Peter: (Eyes peer just above the seat) Is it safe?

Micky: *shrugs* About as safe as a bar can be. *pushes his goggles up to his forehead and gets out of the car*

Davy: Well, it looks safer than the car.

Micky: Very funny, Davy. *sticks his tongue out*

Peter: (Frowns as a couple of tough customers walk out) Do you really think we'll find someone here who'll be willing to take us to Shanghai?

Micky: I'm positive. I have someone in mind. It's just a matter of hoping he’s here, and he usually is.

Peter: Well, all right. (Makes a face) But if we get killed, it's all YOUR fault.

Micky: We won't get killed...more than likely.

(The three enter the building. It's the same bar set used in many stories, last seen in "The Play Is the Thing" and "Monkee Mavericks," but the furniture looks rickety and old...and the men and few women sitting around the room look big and tough. There's several foreign pilots and several men in fancy suits who are equally nasty-looking.)

Peter: (He goes up to the bar) Um, I'll have a martini.

Davy: *follows Peter to the bar* Gin and tonic for me.

*Micky stands behind them, glancing around the place.*

Peter: Micky, where is... (He suddenly bumps into a small, craggy-looking man in a jumpsuit. The man spills his drink on the suit.)

Peter: (As the man lets loose with a stream of expletives in a strange language) Sir, I'm sorry. Really, I didn't see you there. I didn't mean to make you spill that! Here, let me clean you up! (He grabs a paper napkin and tries to wipe the man's suit, but he pushes Peter away...and Peter's arm knocks into the big, burly guy behind him, making HIM spill his drink on the girl in a jumpsuit he was flirting with. He gets up and growls menacingly at Peter)

Peter: I...oh dear... (puts out his hand as all three come towards him) I'm sure we can settle this calmly...

(The big man swings his fist at Peter as "You Told Me" begins. Peter has enough sense to duck, and the man hits the shorter man spouting German expletives...knocking him right into a table! The four big guys who were drinking beer at the table roll up their jumpsuit sleeves and go after the guy who hit the first guy.)

*Davy chats up a lovely young waitress, cleaning up a recently departed table.*

(Peter hands one of the men a bottle of beer and runs off while he tries to open the jammed top.)

*Micky replaces his goggles in the midst of some beer-throwing. He gets himself a rum and Coke and enjoys the battle.*

(Peter is thrown over the bar by one of the goons. When the goon goes to jump behind the bar, Peter appears...and shoots soda at him!)

(The man is knocked into Davy. He picks up Davy by the collar of his shirt and is about to bash his face in when another fist bashes HIS face! He drops Davy and stumbles into the bar, revealing Peter behind him. Peter's fists are up, and he looks as angry as we've ever seen him.)

*Micky chalks up a point for Peter.*

(Peter shakes a bottle of beer. When it builds enough pressure, it shoots right at one of the men, knocking him into two more who were coming after Micky and Davy!)

(One of the men picks up Micky by the seat of his pants and tosses him into the bar!)

*Micky crashes behind the bar, groaning.*

(Peter hits the man right between the jaw! He falls into a pile of men, all groaning, as the song comes to an end.)

Peter: Anyone else want to take us on?

(Everyone backs away and gives Peter LOTS of space at the bar. Peter and Davy help Micky back over the bar.)

Micky: *slightly dazed* Wow. This was one of the better bar fights I've been a part of in weeks!

Peter: I've never been in a bar fight! I hope the University will cover the damage here.

Micky: Don't worry about, Peter! There's been A LOT more damage done in here before than this.

Peter: (Nods and takes what's left of his drink) I don't know if anyone will want to fly us to Shanghai after that display, though.

Micky: *pushes his goggles on top of his head this time* I wouldn't be too down on that, Peter.

Peter: (Sighs) I hate fighting. I only did that because they were threatening the two of you.

Davy: You did what you needed to do, Peter. That's fine.

(Cut to the front entrance. A long, lean man in a battered leather jacket, jump suit, and Fedora walks in. We can't see much of his face under the hat. He goes to the table and orders a drink.)

Micky: *his attention is elsewhere* Fellas, I believe our pilot just walked in.

Davy: Who, that tall fellow at the bar?

Peter: (Sees where Micky is looking) No, he just went to a table. Micky, is that the man you want us to hire?

Micky: *turns back to the guys* Yes, that's him, Peter. *nods in the direction of the man under the hat* Follow me.

*Micky leads the trio over to the table of the long, lean man and takes it upon himself to sit down right across from the fellow.*

Man: (Lifts his hat to reveal Mike, his face a bit more tanned than usual; he grins) Hey, Mick! Haven't seen you in a while. What are you doin' here? This ain't one of your usual hangouts.

Micky: Ah, no. I was looking for you, actually, and figured this was the best place to find you.

Peter: (Whispers to Micky) Is there anyone on the planet that you DON'T know?

Micky: *grins at Peter* Nope!

*Davy just shakes his head, rolling his eyes.*

Peter: We have a job for you, Mr...

Mike: Mike Nesmith, captain of "The Silver Falcon." (Raises an eyebrow) What kind of a job?

Peter: We want you to fly us to Shanghai. We're looking for (looks around, then leans over to Mike and says softly) the Kalawahu tribe of Africa and their Lost City of Gold.

Mike: (Other eyebrow goes up) City of gold?

Peter: We have a map, but it only goes as far as Shanghai. We're hoping the next part will show us where in Africa the tribe is.

Mike: Sounds like a wild gold chase to me.

Peter: Here's the map! (He pulls out his now rather ragged part of the map)

Mike: (Eyes widen again) Damn, that looks authentic.

Micky: It IS authentic, Mike. It's also not the only piece to the map. There's two other pieces.

Mike: That would explain why the top looks like a tiger just took a bite out of it. (Looks at the other three men) Where's those other pieces? Do you know?

Peter: A pulp fiction writer has the second piece. She's with my girlfriend. We're hoping to catch up with them in Shanghai. We have no idea where the third piece is.

Micky: *nods* And my girlfriend let them use our Hydrosail boat. *slight twitch* Wish I'd thought to go with them. *sighs* I'm a lot more comfortable on a boat than *twitches* airplanes.

Mike: I'll fly real slow for 'ya, Mick.

Micky: Gee, thanks.

Peter: You're not afraid of heights, are you, Micky?

*Micky pushes his goggles back down over his eyes.*

Davy: That's a yes, by the way, Peter.

Micky: Am...not...

Peter: Oh dear...

Mike: (Sighs and leans back) Anyone else know 'bout this, 'sides the writer, the girlfriends, and you guys?

Peter: Just the head of the Archeology Department at UCLA, but I doubt she'd tell anyone else about it. Quite frankly, I think she thinks I'm losing my mind.

Mike: Normally, I'd say I agree with her, but...well, here's proof. (He waves his hand at the fragment of the map) You boys involved in any other kind of trouble? I saw the shape the bar was in after Blondie tore through half of it.

Peter: (Blushes) They were threatening my friends!

Micky: Just the usual bar flies trying to take out their problems on unsuspecting new guys.

Mike: (Leans back in his chair) Any other probable dangers? I want to know what we're up against.

Peter: (Shrugs) We're eventually going to Africa. Hungry insects, bloodthirsty natives, humid weather...usual things you see in Tarzan movies. Only the gorillas aren't like King Kong. They're about as gentle as you can get.

Micky: A walk in the park, really.

Mike: Yeah, I thought the whole King Kong thing was kind weird. (Looks up at the ceiling) Well, with expenses 'an the danger of flyin' into uncharted territory...not to mention Shanghai... (finally looks at the three of them) Five thousand dollars. In advance.

Peter: (Eyes widen angrily) Five thousand? We could almost buy our own plane with that!

Mike: But who's gonna fly it? You?

Peter: We'll find someone else!

Mike: Four thousand, five hundred. That's my best offer.

Micky: Mike... *smiles* as a favor... please? *best innocent and hopeful smile*

Mike: Four thousand, five hundred, Mick.

Micky: *makes a face* Snot.

Peter: (Frowns) I'll have to call UCLA...but we might be able to pay you the full five thousand. (Looks up at Mike) If it's a fast plane. We already told you there's other people searching for the treasure and the City.

Mike: Yeah, my baby's fast. I got her about ten years ago, and she can outrun anything they've put out since then, includin' those big new diesel planes. She's outrun rumrunners and cops alike. (Eyebrows go up again) Treasure?

Peter: (Nods) There's supposed to be a treasure hidden within the walls of the Lost City of Gold. They say it's as big as King Solomon's! A vast field of jewels, gold bars, coins, and jewelry.

Mike: You know...maybe I can knock a little off the price if you cut me in on the profits from this treasure hunt you're goin' on.

Peter: It's for the university!

Mike: UCLA don't have to keep ALL the money, now do they?

Peter: (Sighs) Fine. We'll give you a percent of the profit and three thousand dollars. How does that sound?

Mike: (Eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks about it; he finally rights his chair and looks Peter straight in the eye) You've got yourself a deal. (Frowns and nods at the door, where several cops talk to the bartender; he points to Micky, Davy, and Peter) Looks like someone didn't appreciate that brawl too much.

Peter: Uh, yeah. We'd better, uh, get going. (They take off before the cops can make their way over to Mike's table. Mike's about to join them when two of the men in fancy suits come up to him, pointing guns)

Man #1: Well, hello there, Mike Nesmith. Haven't seen you in a long time.

Mike: Hello, Rodriguez. I was just goin' to see your boss. Tell Pruitt I'll have his money as soon as I make a little charter run to Shanghai.

Rodriguez: I don't think so, Nesmith. We've heard that one before.

Mike: It's true this time.

Rodriguez: There shouldn't be a "this time," Nesmith. (He nods at the other man) My cousin's going to go tell the boss that you won't be coming back. What a pity. Maybe the Boss will even take that plane of yours.

Mike: (Growls) Over my dead body.

Rodriguez: That's the idea. (He points his gun at Mike) Say good-bye, Nesmith.

Mike: I ain't in the mood. Shove THIS down Pruitt's ass. (There's gunfire. When the smoke clears, Mike is gone...and Rodriguez is on the floor, dead. We see Mike quickly toss a couple of coins on the bar as he hurries out, the hat pulled low over his eyes.)

(Cut to Micky's car again. This time, Peter and Davy have traded their suits for more casual button-up shirts, slacks, and sweaters. Peter has a Fedora; Davy has a cap. Micky wears his goggles and jacket.)

Peter: (Holding on to his Fedora) He said to meet us at the Lucas Hanger near the waterfront, right?

Peter: (Holding on to his Fedora) He said to meet us at the Lucas Hanger near the waterfront, right? That's what you got from his phone call later. (Frowns) Micky, how do you know Mike, anyway?

Micky: Oh, I've done some repairs and modifications to his airplane.

Peter: I don't know. You two seemed pretty chummy for you having just fixed his plane. (Makes a face) Captain Nesmith doesn't look like the kind of man who opens up easily.

(They finally pull up at the hanger. It's a bit dilapidated, but serviceable.)

Micky: Well, I, uh... *sighs* I was testing a glider I'd made, and I sorta crashed into a tree. The buckle was stuck, and I couldn't get down. I hung there, alone, for about five hours before I saw what ended up being his plane land nearby. I screamed for all I was worth. He thankfully heard me and got me down. I offered to repay him by helping out with his plane. *pauses* And I’ve been afraid of heights ever since.

Peter: Oh. Oh dear. (He pats Micky on the shoulder) Maybe I can help you feel better about that. After all, we'll be in a plane, not a glider. I've seen some of the planes they have these days!

Micky: I just don't like heights, period. Just don't mind me when I go crazy when we take off.

Peter: Just hang on to me. There's a lot to hang on to.

Micky: *nods, smiling* Thank you, Peter.

Davy: You might end up regretting that offer, Peter.

Peter: You're welcome, Micky. (Grins at Davy) Maybe not. If the plane's as fast as he says it is, we ought to be in Shanghai in no time!

Davy: It's just that you don't know the true extent of Micky's fear.

Micky: Oh, be quiet Davy.

(They head into the hanger, suitcases in hand. Mike's already there, loading supplies into the back. The Silver Falcon is a large, rather dilapidated blue and silver cargo plane. The panels are loose in places; there's rust in others.)

Peter: We're going to Shanghai in that? It looks like it wouldn't make it across the hanger without falling apart!

Mike: (Turns around and shrugs) Yeah, that's usually the reaction she gets. (Pats the side of the plane) But she's got it where it counts, Professor. She's faster than a train, strong as an ox, and can withstand just about anything.

Peter: Micky, tell me we're not going to Shanghai in that.

Micky: Yes, we are. Mike's actually being humble about her.

Mike: (Looks up; sees men in fancy suits and carrying guns coming through the hanger) Um, we're a bit rushed, boys, so if you'd just board, we'll get moving as soon as I have a chat with these charming gentlemen here.

Micky: *nods* Come on, fellas. I'll show you inside.

(The other two head into the ship as Mike goes over to the group of men. They're dressed more elegantly than the two thugs who showed up at the bar. The head of the group is a huge fellow with sagging jaws, round brown piggy eyes, and thick black hair slicked into a hard shine. He's smirks.)

Head Gangster: Michael, Michael. You're slipping, boy. I would have thought you'd taken off by now.

Mike: I ain't got nuthin' to hide, Pruitt. I'm gonna be makin' some money here, more money than you saw in ten years of rumrunnin'.

Pruitt: All right, then. If you show us the money, we'll let you keep that bucket of rust you call a plane.

Mike: First of all, don't insult my baby. Second, I don't have the money with me. I'll get it to you as soon as I get back from this little charter flight to Shanghai.

Pruitt: (Shakes his head) Michael, you know I'm not going to let you go. If I let you go, I'd have to let all my men go, and where would my business be then?

(No one sees three heads peek out of the plane's entrance...)

Mike: I swear, I'll bring the money as soon as I get back from Shanghai.

Pruitt: That's what you said about that shipment of drugs from Peking.

Mike: Hey Pruitt, don't sweat it! Even I get boarded sometimes. Those cops were really on my tail. I had to do somethin'!

(Three shadows tip-toe around the back of the men...)

Pruitt: Nesmith, that was one million dollars worth of good opium you just tossed into the Pacific Ocean. I should take a lot more than what I'm asking for out of that thin hide of yours.

Mike: I'm gonna be makin' some real profit out of this one, Pruitt. If this works out the way it sounds like it will, you'll get that million back...in triplicate.

Pruitt: (Raises an eyebrow) I'm listening.

Mike: (Shrugs) Some crazy professor wants to go looking for ruins with hidden treasure. (Rolls his eyes) Sounds like a lot of hokum to me, but treasure is treasure.

Pruitt: (Smile tugs at his fleshy lips) Tell me more.

Mike: I don't really know much more to tell.

*One shadow scrambles to a nearby work bench. We see the slightest hint of curly hair disappearing behind the bench. A few seconds go by, before the shadow leaves the work bench, headed back. Suddenly, a tin can rolls out in front of where the men stand.*

Pruitt: What on EARTH... (Suddenly, there's a huge BOOM! as ("I'm Not Your) Stepping Stone" begins. Peter runs out from behind a crate and tackles one of the men, knocking him to the ground and getting his gun out of his hand.)

*Micky, with goggles in place again, jumps out from behind his crate, giving a Cheshire Cat grin. Amidst all the smoke, he trips up one of the men and manages to take the man's gun.*

*Davy does things the simple way and just punches out the man nearest him, then takes his gun.*

Peter: Michael, get to the ship! Hurry! (He wrestles with another man as a third jumps on him)

(Mike nods and makes a dash for the ship, shooting at several men on his way. We see him enter the cockpit and start fiddling with controls.)

(Peter shoves a crate at the men, knocking them away from him long enough for him to get away.)

*Davy punches out another man before making his way to the plane.*

*Micky tosses a small pellet, causing more smoke to erupt in the hanger, causing the remaining men to cough fitfully. He, too, runs to the plane.*

Pruitt: You...you... (He makes a grab for Peter) You interfering little fool! You'll pay for getting in my way! (He aims for Peter, but can't really see him in the smoke. Peter just barely misses the bullet, which hits the side of a wall as he makes his way to the plane.)

Peter: (Over the music) Micky! (The plane is already starting to make it's way towards the airfield for take off. Micky and Davy hang out the doorway) Get me in the plane! Some of those guys still have guns. We'll be easy targets when the smoke clears!

Micky: *Sticks an arm out* Grab on, Peter!

Davy: *Grabs hold of Micky and one of the seats* Pull him in, Mick!

Peter: I...oh! (There's a gunshot just over Peter's head that cracks a window.) I...can't...reach... (Peter finally makes one last jump and grabs Micky's arms as the plane rolls out of the hanger and out onto the field. As the smoke dissipates and the song ends, Pruitt and his remaining men watch the plane take off into the blue California sky.)

Thug #1: Want we should go after them, Boss?

Pruitt: Oh, we will, Andersson. We're already setting the next part of our plan in motion. We'll get Nesmith, and his little friends, too. (Growls) Especially that blonde brat! (His face twists into a hideous sneer) They'll never suspect it in a million years! (We end with Pruitt's evil laughter echoing in the California afternoon sunshine as we fade out on the hanger.)