"Bill, I’m telling you, it isn’t here!" Ralph stood from his crouched position. "It’s almost midnight and we’re in the desert. Lets face it, after eight months that instruction book probably disintegrated for all we know!"

"Kid, you’ve got a pessimistic point of view," Bill said, still combing ground.

"Gee, and I thought I was being optimistic," Ralph returned, sarcastically. He folded his arms over his chest. "I’d rather just try figuring out new powers on my own. That’s what I’ve been doing all along anyway, despite the fact that it causes new trouble everytime, too."

"I’m not hearing this!"

Ralph turned away, but continued, "You know what would be great, traveling through time. That way, I could go back to before all of this happened and tell myself to stay away!"

"Then why don’t you try it since you have no intentions of helping me look for the book that you lost," Bill said.

"Maybe I will!" Ralph unfolded his arms and brought them to his sides. He cleared his mind and focused on going to a different time.

Bill stood and dusted himself off. "You’re being ridiculous about this whole thing, Ralph, you know that!" He looked to where the young man was standing. "Alright, Ralph, you know I hate it when you do the invisible thing! Ralph? Ralph, where’d ya go?"

* * * * *

"Whooooaaaa!!" Ralph went crashing into the beach, face first, and skidded several feet. "Ow..." He winced, then lifted his head to get a look at where he was. "The beach?" He got to his knees and looked around.

The beach was huge and surrounded by a cliff. Several sets of wooden stairs led the way up and down. Houses stood at the top of the cliff. Just to Ralph’s left stood one beach house. It looked like it had seen better days. Despite the time of night, Ralph could see one lone light on from the first floor. He hoped if someone was awake that they didn’t just witness his crash landing... or him for that matter.

There was something about the house, though. Something told Ralph to go up and take a look.

"I guess it couldn’t hurt," Ralph told himself. He stood, brushed the sand off, then bowed his head. In a blink, he turned invisible and headed for the stairs.

* * * * *

Ralph reached the top, finding that, not only did the stairs lead him to the top of the cliff, but right onto a beach-side veranda off the house. He moved right up to the multitude of small windows and looked inside.

Ralph couldn’t believe his eyes. The house looked to be straight out of the 1960s! The house was full of claptrap... but the real tip off was the icebox painted in pyshadelic colors. The drawers were painted with primary colors. He noticed a drumset set up directly in front of where he stood. There were a few guitars on stands off to one side, along with several pairs of maracas and a couple tambourines. A keyboard sat off the opposite side, along with a stool. The real kicker... was what looked like a life-sized dummy seated at a desk.

Ralph then realized that there was indeed a light on, but he couldn’t see anyone on the first floor. Then his attention was drawn by the creaking of an upstairs door. He watched as a relatively tall young man staggered sleepily over to the tornado staircase. Ralph allowed himself a small half smile seeing the young man’s wild mop of brown curls.

The young man reached the bottom and headed into the "kitchen" area. He opened a cabinet, but closed it again, a look of annoyance crossing his face. He reached into another cabinet and produced a glass, which he filled with water. He headed for a chaise lounge and sat down. He took a drink of water before tilting his head up, then slightly to one side. He turned around and looked right at where Ralph was, right at him, despite Ralph being invisible.

The young man got up, setting his glass on a table, then headed for the door to the veranda. He opened it and stopped, still standing half inside the door. He looked around, eyes darting back and forth. Ralph thought he looked scared, perhaps a little paranoid.

Ralph figured there had to be a better way to find out what was going on, but he decided on the direct approach... and reappeared in a blink. He gave the young man a small smile. "Hi."

The young man’s eyes widened. "Gosharooney!"

Ralph nearly burst out laughing, but instead gave full smile. "Can I assume that’s a positive word and not something along the lines of ‘I’m going to call the cops?’"

The young man smirked. "No, no cops. We’ve had enough weird dealings that, uh..." He paused finally looking at ‘the suit." "Nice outfit."

Ralph looked down at himself, even though he didn’t have to. "Really?"

The young man made a face. "Just trying to be nice."

Ralph nodded. "Thought so. By the way, I’m Ralph, and you’re...?"

"Micky," he answered, smiling again. "You really just appeared out of nowhere, didn’t you?"

"Yes, in a way. I was invisible. It’s part of the suit," Ralph said.

"You can help..." Micky said, then realized he’d said it outloud and made a face again.

"Help?"

Micky gave a slight look of embarrassment. "Wanna come inside? I’ll tell you the whole story."

* * * * *

"...And, well, the Purple Flower Gang busted out of jail. They caught up to us after a gig a few nights ago. They wanted all of us, but I ran off." Micky scratched the back of his neck. "They’ve still got the other fellas. I don’t know what to do. I told the police and they’re out looking for the guys, but... I’m just afraid the longer it takes, the less likely they’ll still be alive." He shook his head. "And I don’t know if the Gang is gonna try to come back and get me or what. If something happens to the guys, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t stand being alone and I’ve been alone here now for three days. I feel like I’m losing my mind thinking about everything that could happen."

Ralph sat stunned. Gangsters? Sure, he’d dealt with his own fair share of mobsters and gangsters... but the wild part was that Micky had said that these gangsters looked exactly like him and his three friends. The odds of that were... well, he sure wouldn’t want to have those odds in Las Vegas. "That’s terrible."

Micky gave a small smile. "Then you... heh, appeared out of nowhere. So, that suit, it kinda makes you like Superman?"

"Kinda, but I like to think I’m more like Batman without all the gadgets." Ralph grinned. He never did like Superman...

"So... you need a place to stay?" Micky asked, a small look of hopefulness on his face.

"Actually, yes, I do. I’m really not from around here. Really." Ralph paused, then remembered. "You wouldn’t happen to have some clothes I could borrow, do you?"

Micky nodded. "We’ll raid Peter’s closet. You look about his height. I am gonna warn you about the color schemes, though." He stood.

Ralph followed suit. "Color schemes?"

"Pete’s a real hippie, but means well. He’s got some relatively normal clothes." Micky motioned for him to follow.

* * * * *

The next morning, Ralph was awake early, but not by choice. For most of the night, he’d listened to Micky’s buzzsaw-like snoring. And Ralph had been sleeping downstairs, while Micky was upstairs.

He staggered sleepily out of the bedroom. He was atleast thankful for being able to find sweatpants that fit--the only other choice that would’ve fit him, he had to admit, was more dreadful than the magic jammies: a one piece, oversized child’s sleepwear with footies and a trap door.

Ralph shuddered at the thought, headed for the kitchen cabinets. He had no idea of where anything was, but was determined to find something that resembled breakfast. He opened one cabinet and found the bowls. He pulled one out and tried another. He found cups and glasses, and pulled out a glass. The next had one box of cereal, which was corn flakes. He went to the fridge and opened the door.

Ralph blinked. "No milk?"

"I don’t like milk. And what we had left went bad," Micky said, as he descended the stairs, looking worse for wear than Ralph did. He grabbed the container of Kool Aid fruit punch from the fridge. "I put this on my cereal." Micky grinned at the look of disgust on Ralph’s face. "Don’t knock it unless you try it!" He grabbed a couple spoons from a drawer.

"Do I have to try it?" Ralph asked. "I think I’d rather eat the cereal dry."

Micky shrugged. "Suit yourself." He put the container and spoons on the table, then retrieved his own bowl of cereal and glass. He sat at the table and fixed his breakfast.

Ralph just looked on, still rather disgusted. He shook his head, then sat across from Micky. He watched him pour the Kool Aid on his cereal, mix it, then take a huge bite. He sighed. "Well, if Bill can eat dog biscuits, I guess I can try fruit punch on my cereal."

Micky grinned as he poured the Kool Aid on his cereal, then take a tentative bite. "Well?"

"Better than the dog biscuits."

* * * * *

Later, Micky sat at the drumkit, fully dressed in brown pants and striped mock turtleneck--minus the poncho. He picked up and twirled his sticks, then beat out the riff to "Mary, Mary."

The downstairs bedroom door opened and Ralph made his way out, slowly. He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He folded his arms over his chest and listened... trying to forget that he now wore a maroon, paisley-print shirt over the magic jammies. The black pants were fine, but the shirt was a bit much. Maybe he should’ve opted for the red eight-button shirt... Oh, well.

Micky finished the riff to applause. He stood and bowed dramatically. "Thank you, thank you!" He set the sticks down, then hopped off the bandstand. "Ready to go spy on the Purple Flower Gang?"

Ralph thumbed the collar of the jammies underneath the shirt. "Ready."

Micky chuckled as he headed for the door. "I still can’t believe you’re wearing that shirt..."

Ralph didn’t follow. "That’s it. I’m changing. I’m gonna put on that eight-button shirt of yours." He disappeared back into the bedroom.

* * * * *

The Monkeemobile pulled up and parked about a half a block from a complex that was last known to be the Purple Flower Gang’s headquarters.

Ralph moved to sit on the back of the seat. "That’s some house!"

"It’s a regular Fort Knox!" Micky said. "Even the police haven’t been able to get in there."

"You’re kidding...!"

"I wish." Micky paused, then asked, "See anything?"

"Not outside..." Ralph turned around to him. "Do we have anything that belongs to one of your friends that was touched right before they were kidnapped?"

"Umm..." Micky reached around, feeling the floor of the back seat. He sat back upright, holding a nail file. "This is Davy’s. He uses it all the time."

"It’ll have to do." Ralph took the nail file and gripped it. He concentrated, looking into the rearview mirror, but didn’t get anything. He undid some of the buttons on the shirt and tried again.

"What’re you doing?" Micky asked.

"Reading vibes..." Ralph’s eyes narrowed slightly, an image finally appearing.

Micky sat back and shrugged. "Vibes? Maybe the paisley shirt was more fitting..."

"It would’ve only helped if it had been worn recently. Your shirt is messing me up!" He paused, "Wait, I’m getting something!" Ralph said. "They’re all inside. They’re okay... well, the tall one, Mike--" He turned to get approval that he had the right name, "Mike has a bloody lip."

Micky snorted. "Mike and his big Texan mouth..." He shook his head.

"Oh, wow... Micky, you weren’t kidding about these guys! They could pass as your twins!"

"Evil twins, maybe."

The image faded and Ralph slid back down into the seat. "We need a plan. I wish Bill was here. He’d already have a scenario figured out."

"You mean something better than sending you in to beat up on them and just get the others out?"

"I’d prefer to be seen by as few people as possible," Ralph replied.

"So you go in invisible, then?"

"And someone gets to explain how the Gang was beaten up by thin air. No... we’ll have to be sneaky." Ralph’s eyes widened. "Waitaminute! Maybe your invisible idea would work... if we made the Gang think their house is haunted."

Micky grinned. "I like the way you think!"

* * * * *

"I don’t like this." Micky folded his arms, still sitting in the driver seat of the MonkeeMobile.

"You can’t very well go in there with me. I can become invisible, you can’t!" Ralph argued, standing outside the car, leaning forward on the passenger side door. "For now, I’m going in there, check out what the layout is and then come back out, then we can figure out how to spook those evil twins of yours." He’d already shed the pants and now pulled off the eight button shirt.

"Doesn’t mean that I have to like it."

Ralph gave a slight grin. "You’re taking this better than I’d thought." With that, he bowed his head and blinked out.

"Geez!" Micky exclaimed.

"You sound just like Bill," Ralph said.

"Awe, just go, would ya?"

Ralph walked up to gate and looked it over. For once, he wouldn’t have to go over it: the bars were far enough apart that he could easily squeeze through them, which he did. The front door was directly in front of him, about a hundred feet up a walkway. Another walkway branched off from it about half way up. He took that part of the path and followed it around to the back.

Ralph peeked in a window and, seeing no one nearby, he tried the door. The back door opened and he stepped in, closing the door quietly after him. He found himself in a large and very shiny kitchen. He paused, hearing something. Seconds later, a rottweiler appeared in the doorway.

"Damn!" Ralph muttered. Invisible or not, the dog would still be able to smell him. He sat on a stool at the center island and pulled his feet up. The dog wandered over near where he sat and looked around. It seemed a bit confused. The dog tilted its head and sniffed the air. Then it looked right at where Ralph was seated.

Ralph smirked, then blinked visible. The dog yelped and went running out of the kitchen as Ralph chuckled. He blinked invisible again, then headed for the doorway. He stopped and looked around the next room. It was a dining room. A rather large, polished, wooden table sat in the middle, surrounded by chairs. Places were set, which Ralph counted, totalling seven. It surprised him slightly that places were set for Micky’s friends. From what he’d said, Ralph had assumed that the Gang wouldn’t be quite so hospitable.

Ralph’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "I told you to keep that dog on a damn leash!" He watched as Micky’s double entered the dining room, followed closely by a slightly shorter blond. Both wore purple suits, though Micky’s double’s suit seemed to be better taken care of and he even wore a vest. The blond had no vest and wore a shirt underneath the jacket that ressembled the paisley shirt that Ralph had almost worn earlier.

"He was obviously spooked by something, Boss!" the blond argued.

"Do you see anything in here that could have spooked that dog?" Micky’s double argued. He sneered. "Maybe that dumb dog saw its damn reflection!"

The blond frowned, then spoke in a quieter tone, "I’ll keep an eye on him."

"You do that!" Micky’s double said, then watched the blond leave the room. The "Boss" removed his purple fedora and ran a hand through straight, brown hair.

Maybe Ralph could have a little fun with this guy before continuing through the house. He walked up to him and lightly touched his shoulder.

The "Boss" spun around. "Who’s there?" His eyes combed the empty room, then he set the fedora on the table. He walked over to the kitchen doorway, looked in there, then turned to face the dining room again.

Ralph nudged the hat over a few inches.

"What the hell!?" Micky’s double ran to the table, causing Ralph to jump out of the way and fall over a chair. He landed on the floor with a very audible thud. The double looked almost right at him. He stared a moment, then shook his head. "Too many horror flicks." He picked up the fedora and left the dining room.

Ralph got up and followed him, then stopped in the doorway again. This time, he looked up and down a very wide hallway. A set of stairs was situated off to the right, while the left side lead to more rooms. He wasn’t quite sure where Micky’s friends were being held, so he decided to go to the left and check the rest of the main floor first.

* * * * *

Micky drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for the sixth time since Ralph had left to check out the complex, and he was getting very bored. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

Moments later, any chance of a possible nap dissipated when he heard a dog bark. A very big dog. He looked over toward the gate and saw the dog practically staring a hole through him. Micky cursed under his breath and started up the MonkeeMobile. He shifted into gear and all but peeled out, away from the curb.

After a block, Micky slowed and sighed.

"Nice dog, huh?"

Micky slammed on the brakes, swerving slightly, then pulled over to the curb. He turned just in time to see Ralph become visible again.

Ralph grinned, a bit sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, no, I always act like that when I suddenly hear voices that I don’t know where they’re coming from." Micky rolled his eyes. "That does explain why that dog was suddenly out by the gate, though."

Ralph made a face. "Yeah, that dog doesn’t seem to like me very much. Don’t know why."

Micky smirked. "You’ve got a very wry sense of humor. I think you’d get along with Mike pretty well."

"Well, thank you," Ralph replied, with a grin. "And speaking of Mike, I found them on the second floor of the house."

"Are they okay?"

"Just fine, as I saw them... well, Mike still had the bloody lip, although it was looking better already."

"Did you see any of our doubles?"

"I saw yours & I saw... Peter’s? The blond?"

Micky nodded. "Yup, that’s Peter. Any ideas on busting the fellas outta there?"

"There’s a couple..." Ralph smirked, "scenarios we could use."

Micky snorted. "Scenarios? Where did that come from?"

"Remember when I mentioned Bill? It came from him." Ralph ran a hand through his hair. "Seems after some time, I’ve picked up on a couple of his quirks. Too bad he hasn’t picked up any of mine."

"I still can’t believe you have connections to the FBI."

Ralph shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."

* * * * *

Later at the beach house, Micky sat on the veranda, waxing his surfboard. He glanced up at Ralph, who sat on the railing, looking out over the water.

"There’s still some things you haven’t told me about," Micky surmised. He watched the blond turn his head slowly, give him a glare, then smirk slightly before turning his attention back to the water. Micky rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, be that way."

Ralph turned around again. "What? Do you want my whole life story or something?"

"Well, no, but... the superhero gig. You’ve explained everything, including losing the instruction manual of all things, but not where it came from. For that matter, you said you’re not from around here... but judging from the way you talk, you’ve atleast lived in Southern California for a long while. I’ll even bet that you’ve even surfed a time or two."

"I was damn good, too." Ralph sighed. "It’s hard to explain, Micky. Most people would think I should be locked up in a rubber room somewhere. Hell, I’ve thought I should be locked in a rubber room just for wearing those jammies! But, when I wear them, I can help people and that’s really what I’ve always wanted to do. You know, make the world a better place."

Micky nodded. "Yeah, I know." He paused. "You don’t surf anymore?"

Ralph shook his head. "Don’t have time for it anymore... that, and the last time I went, I almost didn’t make it back."

Micky made a face. "That bad of a wipe out?"

"Lets just say that I’m thankful I was able to take a good breath before going under the water." Ralph glanced out at the water again.

"I’ve had a couple close calls, but not nearly that bad, just the sort where you go hobbling up the beach afterwards."

Ralph was silent a few moments before turning back to Micky. "You aren’t gonna keep asking me about the suit until I finally cave and tell you, are you?"

Micky shook his head. "No. If you don’t wanna say, that’s fine. I’m sure you’ve got a good reason."

"Thank you. And thank you, too, for some normal clothes."

"Gotta love carpenter’s shorts." Micky grinned, then went back to waxing his surfboard.

Ralph nodded and glanced at the surfboard. He really missed riding the waves...

Micky noticed him staring. "Ever thought of wearing those jammies under a wet suit?"

"Huh?" Ralph tore his gaze from the board, then shook his head. "No... that’s not a bad idea, actually."

"There you go." Micky grinned, obviously proud of himself.

"Hmm."

* * * * *

Early the next morning, Ralph was already up and about, thinking up a scenario of his own. He had a couple pieces of clothing laid out on the chaise: Micky's red eight-button shirt and his "vampire cape." Ralph nodded approvingly. He only hoped the idea would work...

Then he heard the alarm clock go off from upstairs. He smirked and, moments later, saw Micky stumble his way out of the bedroom. Micky muttered to himself, scratching his head through his messy curls, and descending the stairs. He walked right over to the chaise and looked down at the articles bleary-eyed.

"What're you doin'?" Micky asked, then yawned.

Ralph folded his arms over his chest. "This is my scenario."

"Huh?"

"Just put these on and we'll do a trial run," Ralph replied.

Micky shrugged and picked up the shirt and cape. He trudged back upstairs, detouring back into his room to get the rest of what he needed, then went into the bathroom.

* * *

Micky emerged about fifteen minutes later, looking a little more awake, and wearing gray pants and black boots with the shirt and cape. He came back downstairs to find Ralph lounging on the chaise back in his jammies. "Alright, I'm here. So what's the idea?"

Ralph grinned and stood, but didn't say anything. Instead, he concentrated on Micky.

Micky flinched. "Why're you looking at me like that, Ralph?"

To both of their surprise, Micky began to glow... a bright red glow. As it grew and engulfed him more, he wrapped his arms around his head, much like Ralph when shielding his face from bullets. Finally, the glow faded completely, leaving an exact look-a-like costume to Ralph's.

"It's safe now, Micky," Ralph said, once again folding his arms.

Slowly, Micky slid his arms away from his head, peeking out. He looked at Ralph and saw him nod. Then Micky looked down at himself. "How did--?"

Ralph shrugged. "It's like I told you, Micky, I'd know if I hadn't lost the instruction manual. There's tons of stuff that I could do... if I knew how. I just took a chance that this little trick would work and it did!"

"I think I'm finally catching on. You're gonna have me play decoy while you get the guys out and then we'll play the looney-bin front because the Purple Flower Gang won't be able to prove that I have "super" powers... or atleast enough to decoy and do a rescue at the same time!" Micky grinned, proud of himself.

Ralph grinned, then shrugged. "Works for me." Then he winked.

Micky blinked. "Wait... that wasn't what you had in mind?"

"I didn't get that far. I didn't want to consider any ideas of a second suit until I was sure I could do it. At any rate, that's a great plan."

* * * * *

"I'm starting to think this isn't such a great plan." Micky stopped and turned in front of Ralph, just outside the house the Purple Flower Gnag was holed up in. "I mean, what if they just start shooting at me? I can't repel bullets the way you can!"

"Micky, you're worrying over nothing. Just let me take care of everything, okay? You just keep them occupied," Ralph said.

"Yeah, like letting them pound me into pulp." He stayed put as Ralph walked past him, headed for the gate.

"You're giving me this really weird sense of deja vu, here, Micky. Could you please just pull yourself together and do your part of the scenario?" Ralph rolled his eyes at how easily that word was coming from himself now...

"Alright, alright." Micky joined Ralph at the gate and then watched him squeeze through the bars, then he followed suit.

They walked up the path, up to the door. Ralph tried it, but found it locked. He pointed a finger and the door opened on its own. They stepped inside and looked around.

Ralph glanced at Micky, who nodded, then Ralph bowed his head and blinked invisible. Micky puffed his cheeks and let it out as he started down the hall. He didn't have to wait long before find the first Gang member.

It turned out to be Davy's look-a-like. The man was maybe a few inches taller than Davy, but still had the same boyish look about him. He gave Micky the once over. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Trick or treat?" Micky replied, unsure.

He quirked an eyebrow. "It's kinda early for Halloween..." He turned and yelled, "Hey, Boss, you're twin is here!"

Micky's eyes widened and he thought he heard a sigh come from the top of the stairs. The next thing he knew, the entire Gang stood in front of him. All of them holding guns. Micky frowned.

The Boss grinned. "Well, what have we here? What're you supposed to be, other than crazy, that is?"

"Toothfairy?" Micky offered, weakly.

"I ain't buyin'. Boys," the Boss pointed at Micky, "it's open season."

Suddenly, footsteps were heard from the stairs. Mike and Davy, with Peter behind them came charging into the room. Peter hung back while the others began beating on the Gang. Ralph blinked visible, now standing next to Peter, who turned to him. His eyes widened.

Ralph smiled. "Hi, I'm Ralph."

Peter's mouth fell open, but he didn't respond.

Ralph nodded. "I get that alot."

The Gang was left in a heap finally and Mike took up the phone to call the police.

"This is a great piece of work, this," Davy commented, playing with Micky's cape. "Who's your tailor?"

Micky pointed at Ralph. "He is."

Mike joined them. He glared at Ralph, disbelievingly. "I don't know who--or what--you are... but you saved our hides."

Ralph waved it off. "I'll explain once we get back to the Pad."

Three sets of eyes turned to Micky, who shrugged. "We'll explain."

* * * * *

Two hours later, five young men were on the beach in back of the Pad.

Mike was shaking his head. "You do realize that what you've just been saying isn't possible, right?"

Ralph nodded. "I do realize that. There actually is a reason why it's possible... It's just that I can't say it."

Micky's eyes lit up with realization. "Those jammies aren't from this world!"

Ralph blinked. "What'd you just say?"

"Aliens!" Micky crowed.

Mike shooked his head. "Here we go with his sci-fi kick."

Davy hushed him. "Quiet, Mike, I like it when he goes into this!"

Peter nodded. "It really could be true, Mike. I've read about several occurrences of alien and UFO sightings."

"Well..." Ralph sighed, "you got me. Those... jammies are alien. Little green guys, to be exact."

"Wow!" Micky exclaimed.

"So, Ralph, what are you going to do now? You said you aren't from around here...?" Peter asked.

Ralph scratched the back of his head. "I'm actually from about seventeen years in the future. I was out, once again, futilely looking for my lost instruction manual with Bill and somehow... I ended up here. I guess I was just needed more here." He paused. "I have to go back now that I'm finished here."

"Do you have to?" Micky asked.

Ralph chuckled. "Yes, Micky, I have to. Listen, I leave you something to remember me by, okay?" He stood up. "You'll find it on your bed. It was nice meeting... and rescuing you."

"Maybe you can look us up in your time," Davy offered, grinning.

"I'll do that." Ralph turned to Mike, who was scowling. "This one's for you, Mike." He took in a breath and cleared his mind, focusing on 1983 and the desert where he left Bill. He disappeared in a blink.

Mike's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

* * * * *

"Ralph, you know I really hate this!" Bill called out.

Ralph blinked in once again. He smiled. "I'm here, Bill. There's no need for yelling."

"I've been calling for you for twenty minutes! What happened?" Bill said.

"I figured out a new power..." And Ralph proceeded to tell Bill all about his time travel adventure.

* * * * *

The Monkees went back inside their beach house. Micky took off for the stairs and went into the bedroom. He crowed and reappeared at the top of the stairs... holding his very own red jammies... literally.

Peter smiled. "Atleast now you guys won't just make fun of my pajamas."

The End