Is everyone ready for some MonkeeLeague action?

Mike: Sounds good to me.

Micky: Of course!

Davy: I am.

Peter: Me too. We could use the work out.

*We open on a sunny day at Millie's store. Inside, we see the four Monkees sitting at a booth. Micky is building a house out of playing cards. He picks up a card in each hand.*

Micky: Okay, guys, you can turn away and breathe.

Mike: (They all do so) Well, did you do it?

Micky: Shhh! *Carefully places the next two cards*

Peter: (Chuckles) Is this really your biggest one ever, Mick?

Micky: *Takes the next two cards* Yeah, it is.

Davy: I don't know why you're building it here.

*Micky ignores them, placing the next two cards.*

Mike: Yeah! Why not the Cave, if you didn't want the kids to knock it over?

Micky: Because there's someone here I wanna show it off to.

*A short, dark-haired, slightly chubby fellow walks over to the booth. He wears a white apron and has a notebook in his hand. He rolls his eyes when he sees what Micky is doing.*

Slip: Trying to out-build me, hmmmm?

Micky: Yup. *Places another card*

Slip: *Shakes his head* You guys gonna order, or what?

Mike: I don't know about the master builder, but we will. I'll take a slice of Millie's famous Cheesecake.

Peter: A zucchini-carrot muffin.

Davy: I'll take a piece of carrot cake.

Micky: *Without breaking concentration* A double chocolate malted and a brownie with nuts.

Slip: *Writes everything down, then taps his pencil on the notebook* I think you've had enough nuts, Mick. *Walks away to put the orders in*

Davy: *Smirks* You two get along well, Mick.

Mike: That guy has your number.

Peter: I'm glad Millie gave him and his friend jobs after Herman dropped them from his group.

Davy: They're decent musicians, but really didn't fit his group.

Micky: *Still concentrating* Dunno how he got my number. It's unlisted.

Mike: Speakin' of, when we're finished here, we've gotta get back out there and patrol.

Peter: (Nods) If we're not going to work, we might as well do something else constructive.

Mike: Which reminds me, Mick, you and I need to talk to Herman soon about his next video.

Micky: *Not listening* After I'm done.

Peter: Has anyone heard from Herman recently?

Davy: All I know is he's been spending a lot of time with Lillith.

Mike: He's really gone about her, ain't he?

Davy: He sure is.

*Slip returns with the guys' food and distributes the plates, still eyeing Micky's card house.*

Mike: Slip, it ain't like it's gonna bite ya.

Slip: I'm debating whether or not to knock it down.

Micky: *Head jerks up* Hey!

Slip: Anyway, I got som'en more important to talk to ya about.

Mike: (Looks up, frowning) What?

Slip: That new shop across the street. They got some new type of ice cream that's got everyone droolin' over it. Business is droppin' like flies here.

Mike: (Looks across the street) Frazzlemeyer's Fabulous Ice Cream Treats. I heard of them. Ain't taken the kids there, though.

Peter: They seem a little...flashy.

Slip: *Leans over the table, dangerously close to Micky's card house; Micky glares at him* Rumor has it there's somethin’ weird goin’ on over there. Somethin’ a lot stranger than new ice cream. Maybe gangsters. And there's a crazy scientist involved, too.

Mike: Gangsters and scientists created ice cream?

Peter: Maybe we ought to check this out. Millie's really worked hard. We don't want her to lose this place. It's her baby!

Slip: And Sach and me have a tab here. I don't think we'd get one anywhere else.

Mike: Not to mention, you have jobs here. Those aren't easy to find these days. You're lucky Millie's regular workers found jobs as lifeguards and these were open.

*Sach runs out of the kitchen, a bowl in hand.*

Sach: Chief! Oh, Chiefy! *Runs into Slip, who bumps the table. Micky's card house falls.* Oop! Sorry about that, Mick.

Micky: Maaaaan...

Slip: See what you done, you crazy moron! What's all this screamin' for, anyway?

Sach: I created a new flavor ice cream to rival across the street. Try it? *Shoves the bowl under Slip's nose.*

Mike: Give it to Mick. He'll eat anything.

Slip: *Makes a face* What, do I dare ask, is IN it?

Sach: Now Chief, inventors never divulge their ingredients!

Micky: *Tries to see into the bowl* Hey Sach, I don't think Slip wants to try it. I'll give it a go, though.

Mike: Mick's an inventor, too. He's eaten stranger things.

Sach: For a fellow inventor, anything! *hands over the bowl*

*Micky takes a bite, then suddenly appears to turn green...literally. A green light shines on him to show nausea.*

Mike: Mick, are you ok?

Peter: Sach, maybe you'd better reveal what you put in that now.

*Micky runs for the bathroom.*

Sach: Oop! I made him sick, too!

Slip: Now you see why I made a face. I made the mistake of tasting his last invention, and it had the same effect on me. Don't worry, he'll be okay after it's out of his system.

Mike: Good. (Makes a face) After he gets it out of his system, I think we ought to go across the street and find out just what it is that Frazzlemeyer's doing with that ice cream.

Sach: You're gonna go spyin' on them?

Peter: We're just going to ask some friendly questions. We don't want him to think anything's wrong, especially when we don't know what's going on yet.

Mike: You guys keep an eye on things from here. If there really are gangsters involved, we'll know.

Slip: We can handle things here.

Sach: That's right. I'm pretty handy with an ice cream scoop!

Mike: (Chuckles) I can imagine. We saw you guys a couple of months ago when you raided that castle with our wives.

Slip: It weren't nuthin'.

Peter: (He goes around the corner to the men's bathrooms; off-camera) Micky, are you ok? We're going to go across the street to ask Frazzlemeyer some questions.

Micky: *Off-screen* Yeah, I'm okay. Be right out.

Peter: Ok, Mick. (He returns to the others) As soon as Mick's out, we'll go across the street.

Mike: (As he munches on his cheesecake) I sure hope this guy don't drive Millie outta business. She makes the best cheesecake anywhere.

Peter: (Nods) And the best baked goods.

Mike: Slip, have you guys tried Frazzlemeyer's Ice Cream Treats yet?

Slip: I have my loyalties. Him, *motions to Sach* I'm not so sure about.

Sach: I'm a one ice cream shop type of guy! I don't cheat.

Peter: I wonder what happened to the little smoothie store that used to be there? They sold ice cream novelties, too. Freddy Rogers used to own that store, but he sold it and left mysteriously.

Slip: I heard he had to sell.

*Micky comes out from the bathroom looking a lot better than when he left for it.*

Mike: We're gonna go across the street to get to the bottom of this ice-cream mystery, Mick. Ready to go?

Micky: I'm ready.

Mike: (Turns to Slip and Sach) You boys hold down the fort!

*Sach leans over, sprawled out on the table.*

Slip: *Slaps the back of Sach's head* If I had my hat...

Mike: Uh, yeah. (They head out, leaving Slip to try to get Sach back up again.)

Peter: (As they go across the street) What do you think is going on here?

Mike: I'd say it's Slip's imagination...but if gangsters are involved, it could be a lot more serious.

Micky: Besides, how would he know what's going on, anyway?

Davy: I say we find out for ourselves.

(They enter the ice cream parlor. The place is packed! There's people of all kinds, of all walks of life, standing in long lines behind a big Formica counter to buy ice cream. A man in a simple brown suit and striped tie hands out samples. He immediately goes to the boys.)

Man: Hello there, gentlemen. My, weren't you the famous Monkees a few years ago? I watched all your specials!

Micky: Maybe a little famous.

Man: I'm Edwin Frazzlemeyer, of Frazzlemeyer's Famous Ice Cream Treats. Care for a treat? We make them right here in Malibu Beach, in the old candy and ice cream factory on North .

Mike: (Takes one of the small cups of ice cream) Uh, yeah.

Peter: I'm not normally fond of ice cream, but I think I'll try one.

Davy: Sure, mate, thanks.

Micky: Love to!

Frazzlemeyer: (Grins as Micky takes five little cups) I like to see a hearty appetite. Eat up! We have plenty.

Mike: (Nods) Ok. (He takes a little wooden spoon) Bottoms up, then. (The guys all take a taste at once...and they all make the same faces at once. Mike spits his out and hands the cup over) Man, that tastes AWFUL!

Frazzlemeyer: (Frowns) I don't understand it. Most everyone else I've given this to has loved it!

Peter: It tasted so sour and bitter, like a really bad lemon.

Frazzlemeyer: Maybe this was just a bad batch.

Micky: *Coughs* Sach's ice cream was better than this!

Davy: That's bloody disgusting. Grainy and just bad.

Frazzlemeyer: (He tastes the last one) It tastes fine to me. Perhaps you boys just don't have the stomach for it.

Mike: Yeah, I guess not. (Throws the cup away) What's all this about sendin' gangsters to the competition?

Frazzlemeyer: (Knits his brows in surprise) Oh dear. Why would I do that?

Mike: So there's no competition.

Frazzlemeyer: Competition is a healthy thing. I can't help if if they're jealous of my success.

Mike: Don't sound like jealously to me.

Frazzlemeyer: I'll not have you come here and make such wild accusations!

Peter: Where do you usually go?

Frazzlemeyer: OUT! Get out NOW!

Mike: All right, all right. Come on, you guys. Let's get out of here.

(They all head outside...but Mike pulls them into an alley between buildings the minute they step out the door.)

Peter: What was that all about?

Mike: There's somethin' really fishy goin' on here. Everyone I've talked to has loved this place. Why did our ice cream taste bad?

Davy: Good question, mate.

Peter: Maybe it really was a bad batch?

Mike: I don't know... (They see a group of college students walk out, slurping ice cream.) Those kids sure seem to enjoy it.

Peter: (Points at a mother and her son) And that boy has two bowls full!

Mike: Is it me, or do they seem kind of...listless? Dopey?

Peter: Do you think there's something in the ice cream?

Mike: Darn it, I wish we'd saved a cup to analyze it.

Micky: You mean this? *holds out his cup*

Mike: (Grins) Good work, Mick.

Peter: (Eyes widen) Look at the college students!

(They've all turned to each other with odd, stupid grins...but they can't seem to say a word, just grin stupidly. They toss their cups on the ground and walk away, toddling strangely, with their fingers in their mouths.)

Mike: They're actin' like a bunch of stupid kids. So?

Peter: They're acting stupid, Michael. Dumb. Like they don't have any intelligence.

Micky: And that's supposed to be strange how?

Peter: Look at the mother! (She's picking up the ice cream cup and throwing it...then trying to eat it) That cup is made of Styrofoam!

Mike: That can't taste good.

Peter: And him! (One man who has dropped his ice cream cup on the ground is now quite happily chasing squirrels up a tree with his dog.)

Mike: Ok, that's weird.

Peter: There's something wrong with this ice cream. (He looks at Micky) Maybe we could take it back to the Beach Cave to analyze it. We could talk to the girls, too. They might be able to find out more about this Frazzlemeyer.

Micky: Fine with me.

(Cut to the Beach Cave. We're now in a room that's definitely Micky's. The drum set is in a corner next to some beat-up couches, a few old bean-bag chairs, and shelves and shelves filled with chemicals and chemistry accessories. Micky's newest chemistry set is in one side of the room. Red crystal softly throbs throughout the area.)

Mike: (He and the other men and women join him) Ok, Mick, what have you found?

Valerie: What's all this about?

Emma: (Frowns) I've heard funny things about that new ice cream parlor across from Millie's. Some people have come out of it acting very peculiar indeed. There's been reports of people behaving like total idiots. They literally can't tell their feet from their heads!

Peter: We're thinking it's in the ice cream. That's the only thing all of those people have in common. Found anything, Mick?

Mike: There's somethin' weird goin' on here.

Micky: These are not your typical ice cream ingredients here. Some are, definitely, but there's a few trace elements here that definitely don't belong here.

Mike: Stuff that makes you go nuts?

Peter: Among other things. It's not mind control. It seems to be more like mind damage.

Emma: Brain drain.

Micky: Exactly.

Valerie: (Looks at the other women) Sounds like we need to do some research on this Frazzlemeyer and his wonderful ice cream.

Emma: I'll see if I can interview people who have had the ice cream.

Valerie: I'll make some calls and find out more about Frazzlemeyer himself.

Emma: Lauren, some of the radio station's advertisers are local ice cream and soda shops. See if you can talk to them and find out if Millie's the only place being threatened.

Lauren: *Nods* Okay.

Valerie: Daphne, you and the girls talk to some of the younger Headquarters artists. They may have tried the ice cream and felt the effects.

Daphne: Will do.

Mike: We're gonna go back to Millie's. I wanna find out more about the ice cream parlor and factory.

Peter: How? Frazzlemeyer will never let us back in there after today!

Mike: (Grins) Who's up for a stakeout?

Micky: You have to ask?

Davy: I am.

*We switch back to Millie's, much later that night. We see the four Monkees, with Micky setting up a telescope. We also see the two other guys watching from the counter. Well, one is watching, the other is snoring.*

Micky: *Looking through the telescope* Perfect. I can see right inside.

Mike: (Nods) Good. That's what I was hopin' for. (Turns the counter) Hey Slip, thanks for gettin' Millie to let us in this late.

Peter: And for the dinner at your apartment upstairs.

Slip: Ain't nutin'. It was nice to have someone over. Watchin' Sach eat gets old real quick.

Mike: (Looks at Micky) Tell me about it.

*Micky's too busy looking through the telescope to respond.*

*Sach snores loudly.*

Slip: Matter-a fact, I usually sleep down here anyway. Can't stand listenin' to Sach snore all night long.

Mike: (Winces as Sach lets out a particularly noisy snore) No kiddin'.

Peter: Do you see anything, Mick?

Micky: A light just came on. I don't see anyone yet, though.

(We see the dim outlines of Frazzlemeyer working on something. He holds what looks like a beaker tube up to the light.)

Micky: Wait a minute. Frazzlehopper is holding a beaker up to the light.

Peter: I think it's Frazzlemeyer, Mick.

Micky: Whatever.

(Frazzlemeyer starts to mix two beakers together. He opens a refrigerator and pulls out two bowls, then adds the beakers to the bowls and starts mixing.)

Mike: Seein' anythin' interestin', Mick?

Micky: He has another beaker and two bowls. He's added the beaker contents to the bowls & he's mixing them.

Micky: And now he's giving the potion to... *eyes widen* Freddy Rogers!?

Peter: (As we see the outline of Frazzlemeyer leaning over something lumpy) Is that what that is?

Micky: I saw his face briefly in the light.

Mike: Let me see. (He tries to grab the telescope from Micky)

Micky: Hey, I'm using it!

Slip: *Joins them* Let me take a look!

Micky: *Pushes Slip away* You're too short. You'll move it on me!

Davy: At least I'm not the only one getting the short jokes.

Slip: I'll give 'im som'en else if he gives another crack like that... *shakes a fist*

Peter: Guys, don't fight over it! What if Frazzlemeyer hears you?

Slip: If he ain't heard Sach's snorin', he ain't gonna hear us arguin'.

Mike: Pete, he's across the street! (The camera briefly cuts to a shot of Frazzlemeyer lowering his drapes...and blocking the telescope's view) Darn it.

Micky: What? What happened? *pushes Mike away to look* Maaaan! He closed the drapes!

Mike: See? You idiots scared him away!

Peter: It's more likely he got tired and went to bed.

Davy: Well, if Mick would learn how to share...

Micky: Don't you start on me, Dave.

Peter: I don't think we can do much else for now. (Smiles) Why don't we order something for dinner, then see if he's open his shades again later?

Slip: Just as long as Mick don't order the food.

Micky: What's wrong with my ordering?

Mike: We don't need everythin' on the menu twice.

Davy: Exactly.

Mike: Wanna do the callin', Slip? We trust you.

Peter: We'll stay at the telescope.

Slip: Obliviously. How's pizza?

Micky: *Pouts* Fine.

Sach: *Wakes up* Someone say pizza?

Mike: And I thought Mick was bad. Hungry, Sach?

Sach: Nah, just time for my midnight snack.

Slip: Before your two o'clock snack and your four o'clock snack.

Mike: You have the same schedule as Mick.

Sach: *Throws an arm around Micky* Great stomachs think alike!

Micky: I knew I liked you, Sach.

Slip: (Rolls his eyes) Wanna keep 'im?

Mike: I was gonna offer you ours.

Peter: Maybe we'd better just order dinner.

Slip: Comin' up. *heads for the phone*