Emma: Ok, soooo... are you boys ready to tell Lauren the full story on the MonkeeMen deal?
Peter: I'm ready!
Mike: Ready.
Micky: As long as Mike promises not to kill me! ;-)
Mike: I'm doin' the narratin'. I won't kill you.
Micky: Whew! ;-)
Mike: Right now. ;)
Micky: Wha?
Davy: Mike, lay off Mick. And girls, I'm ready.
Lauren: *chuckles* Mike, you're scaring the poor boy. ;-)
Mike: Ok, then, soooo... (narration) About three years ago, we were livin' in the Pad, as we are now. We'd only been there for a few months, and had officially been a band for a few months more than that. In fact, it was the day I, um, told Rudy I didn't really think we needed a manager anymore...
(Fade in to the Pad in the early first season - Mr. Schneider sits in his usual place, the phone is under the chess set, and two basses sit next to Mike's beloved Black Beauty. All is quiet for a minute; Mr. Schneider's eyes are closed. Suddenly, the door flings open, and we hear the voices of the boys. Mr. Schneider's eyes snap open as the annoyed quartet makes their way into the kitchen and living room.)
Davy: (He has his mop-top hairdo of the pilot and the cap from the interviews) Mike, now why did you go and put a bloody 'ole in Rudy's wall? You lost us a manager!
Mike: (His sideburns are practically non-existant and he's wearing his dark-green wool hat and holding his knuckle) I guess I just blew up.
Micky: *with his really short hair* It was kinda funny, though.
Peter: (Long-ish hair of the pilot and the purple-and-gray striped shirt) I liked the look on Rudy's face when you said we weren't going to play anymore sweet sixteen parties. :)
Mike: We can't keep playin' kiddie parties the rest of our lives, guys. Rudy weren't doin' nothin' for us.
Davy: Rudy's gonna make you pay for the wall Mike, you know that.
(Mike starts running his fist under the cold water in the sink.)
Micky: I'm sure there were other ways to get it through his head, without hurting yourself or the wall.
Mike: (Shrugs) I just lost my temper.
Davy: No kidding. Remind me not to be anywhere near you the next time you go crackahs like that.
Peter: (Sits at the table; whimpers) Well, what do we do now?
Mike: (Smiles at the nervous bassist) We find jobs. Can't be hard. I'll bet between the four of us, we could find all kinds of great gigs.
Micky: There's gotta be something four talented guys like us can find. *shrugs*
Peter: (City-lighting grin) I'm sure there is!
Mike: Yeah. From now on fellows, no more managers. We don't need anyone tellin' us how to play our music and the songs our friends write.
Peter: I just hope we get to play.
Mike: Of course we will. (Sighs) There's gonna have to be some changes made, especially if we're going to be our own managers.
Davy: (Raises his hand) Can I drop playin' the bass, for one? I ain't really all that good at it. I'm gettin' bettah, but I'm nothin' like you or Petah.
Mike: (Shrugs) We'll find somethin' for you to do, Dave. You've got a great voice, and maybe you can play the tambourine or somethin'.
Micky: Davy, you don't like the bass because it hides you from the girls. ;-)
(Mike chuckles and Peter puts his hand over his mouth to hide his grin.)
Davy: You're one to talk! We're lucky if we can get you to play 'alf the time, you're so distracted by watchin' all them birds!
Micky: *shrugs* I'm behind the drums and you guys. I gotta do something to get some attention.
Mike: Yeah, from now on, could both of you concentrate more when we're playin'?
Micky: *mutters* I concentrate...
Davy: Mike, you're just jealous, 'cause all them birds come up to Micky and me aftah the shows and not you and Petah!
Peter: I get birds after the show! I feed the pigeons every afternoon after we come out of Rudy's!
Davy: (Sighs) Oh, Petah.
Mike: (Mutters) And then there's Mr. Innocent over there...
*Micky snickers.*
Mike: (Out loud) May I remind you all that Pete and I are perfectly capable of getting dates?
Davy: Oh, you are? Then why ain't I evah seen either of you out with a woman since we met?
Peter: I took Mrs. Filcheck across the street yesterday!
Micky: Fair question. ;-) And that does not count, Peter.
Peter: Well, I...I... (looks down) ...don't talk to young girls well.
Mike: Chicks don't dig me, and he last time one did... (turns away) ...it didn't go well.
Davy: Mike, you can't keep mournin' Phyllis. You split up. Get ovah it.
Micky: Yeah, man, you can't keep dwelling on that. It'll just make you feel worse.
Mike: (Shakes his head) I don't got room in my life for chicks.
Peter: But you miss Phyllis, Michael. You miss having a girl around. I can tell.
Mike: I don't miss her. She's the one who wanted the divorce.
Peter: Michael, I'm probably not one to talk, but maybe you should see a girl again.
Mike: (Shrugs) Chicks don't get my music. Phyllis didn't. She didn't understand how important it was to me. We fought like cats and dogs and didn't really pay much attention to each other those last few months.
Davy: You cahn't be alone forevah, Mike.
Micky: There's a girl out there for you, Mike, believe it or not, but how're you gonna find her if you don't let anyone get close?
Mike: I guess I ain't used to bein' close. Spent most my life listnin' to people say how much they didn't want to be close to me.
Peter: We're here for you now, and you're close to us.
Mike: You're different. You're guys. You get me. (Grins) Most of the time. ;)
Micky: Whether you like it or not. ;-)
(There's a knock at the door. Davy peeks in the grille.)
Davy: 'Ey, it's Mr. and Mrs. Coulter! You know, the couple down the block. I think she's got 'er famous cinnamon rolls. I can smell 'em from 'ere. :D
Mike: (Grins) Well, let 'em in, boy! Cinnamon rolls wait for no Monkee! :D
Micky: *eyes widen* Oh, man!
(Davy opens the door, and an elegantly dressed middle-aged couple walk in. They're attractive people, both in their late 40s-early 50s. She has fluffy gray-brown curls and wears a fashionable but simple short mint green sheath. He wears a sweater and slacks and looks a bit like an older Ozzie Nelson.)
Mrs. Coulter: Hi, boys. Saw you come home and thought you could use a little of this. Jimmy and I heared Michael cursing a blue streak from down the block.
(Mike blushes.)
Micky: *immediately jumps up and takes the cinnamon rolls* Thanks! ;-)
Davy: 'Ey, save some for the rest of us, Mick!
Mr. Coulter: (Eyeing Mike's bruised hand) I take it your meeting with Mr. Luddock didn't go well.
Mike: Let's just say I think I made an impression.
Davy: Yeah, on Rudy's wall.
Mrs. Coulter: (Frowns) Oh, dear. Michael, you really must learn to curb that temper of yours. It'll get you all into deep trouble one of these days!
Micky: *with his mouth full* That's what we keep telling him!
Mr. Coulter: So, now what?
Mike: We're gonna try to get jobs on our own.
Mr. Coulter: Now, fellows, that's not easy. I know. I ran a big band during the 30s and 40s. Elaine was my head singer. (Grins) That's how we met. The moment I heard her sing "Stormy Weather" on that sunny afternoon in the Hotel Caprice in downtown LA, I knew she was the woman for me.
Mrs. Coulter: (Blushes) Oh, Jim...
Mr. Coulter: We had a lot of hard times before we settled down here. Wasn't always easy, but you guys have the advantage of not always having to travel. We must have lived in every podunk hotel from here to New Jersey before the orchestra broke up.
Mrs. Coulter: (Nudges Jim) Speaking of our marriage, isn't there something you wanted to ask the boys?
Mr. Coulter: (Nods) The cinnamon rolls are only one of the reasons we came over here. The other was to ask you boys to play for our 30th wedding anniversary.
Mrs. Coulter: We've heard you boys play. You've all got real talent, and your songs aren't as harsh as most rock-and-roll tunes.
Mr. Coulter: We're holding it on the beach. It's so much nicer than some stuffy ballroom, and Lanie and I never did go for convention.
Mrs. Coulter: Took us long enough to decide on a town to stick to! :D
Micky: Whaddaya think, Mike?
Mr. Coulter: I'd be willing to pay each of you 50 dollars straight up. I know how much you need the money.
Mike: (Grins very widely) We'd be honored, Mr. Coulter! Especially after everything you've done for us, givin' Pete the piano and me the blond Gretch, gettin' Rudy to hire us for that outdoor concert in the park so we could buy new amps, playin' for Mrs. C's Ladies' Club picnics...
*Micky whoops with joy and continues on the cinnamon rolls.*
Mrs. Coulter: (Puts up a hand) You're like the sons we never had. I don't care if most of the old folks around here think you're long haired weirdos. I don't know why they think that way. None of you really have long hair, and if they want weird, they should drive around to some of the stop-gaps Jim and I played in!
Mr. Coulter: You guys are the new frontier of music. You all do some really fine work. (Indicates himself and Mrs. Coulter) Carrying the torch from us old fogies.
Mrs. Coulter: (Nudges Jim) We are not! ;)
Peter: I really like the piano, Mrs. Coulter. It plays so well.
Mrs. Coulter: It was my mother's. It didn't have anywhere to go when she died and our house is so small. I thought you boys would appreciate it. I've heard you play the keyboard, Peter. You're truly talented.
(Peter turns the color of tomatoes.)
Mr. Coulter: (Tugs at his wife's arm) Come on, Lanie. We've got to get ready for the party. (Nods at the boys) It's next week on the beach in front of our house. You boys be there around six o'clock. I'll have some of the local kids help you set up the instruments, and they'll be a makeshift bandstand.
Mrs. Coulter: (Grins) He's just eager to go home and watch football for the rest of the afternoon.
Mr. Coulter: (Almost whining) But Lanie, it's a really important game! The LA Raiders are playing the New York Giants!
Mrs. Coulter: (Sighs and shakes her head) Might as well get along home, before you start going on about what the Raiders' defence did to the Dallas Cowboys last week. These boys don't need to hear the graphic details. (Waves and pulls him along) Have a nice afternoon, boys. Enjoy the rolls! You can bring the plate back later. :)
Micky: *waves* Thanks again!
Mike: (Nods and reaches for a roll as the couple walks out the door) Thanks for everything, you two, and enjoy your game!
Peter: (As the door closes) I really like them. They're so nice. It's like having an aunt and uncle a block away. :)
Mike: Nice of them to give us a gig, and on the beach, at that. ;)
Micky: Yeah. We'll actually have fun with this gig. ;-)
Davy: They're a really groovy couple. I like 'earin' 'is stories 'bout all the places the two of them used to play in.
Peter: She's good on the piano, too! She played a really beautiful Mozart piece for me yesterday.
Mike: And she's always bringin' over food. She brought a whole pot roast over yesterday. :D
Micky: Keeps my stomach happy, too! *grins* ;-)
Davy: It's just the two of them, Mike. She told me they don't got any kids. She just likes havin' people to cook for. :)
Mike: Well, they've been friendlier than certain other people in this neighborhood. Like...
(Even as Mike opens his mouth, there's heavy banging on the door. Peter whimpers.)
Micky: Oh, man. *rolls his eyes*
Mike: (Makes a face) ...Like Babbitt, for example.
Davy: One of these days, 'e's gonna put a bloody 'ole in the door with all 'is poundin'!
Micky: And we'll have to fix it.
Mike: I'll handle him. (Gets up and opens the door. Babbitt, wearing his familiar vest and rolled-up shirtsleeves, charges in.)
Babbitt: Ok, guys. Where's the rent?
Mike: I give up, where?
Babbitt: You've lived here for almost four months, and in that time, you've delivered the rent on time once...the day you moved in!
Mike: Cool your jets, man. We got a gig. The Coulters on the next block are havin' us play for their wedding anniversary, and they're paying good money.
Babbitt: (Makes a face) I don't like those two. They're...odd. They have nut jobs in at all hours and he's always leavin' with a huge briefcase that comes back thinner.
Davy: Now, Mr. Babbitt, I think you've been watchin' too many spy movies. The Coulters are real nice people. They've been good to us.
Babbitt: Mark my words, gentlemen, there's somethin' fishy going on over there. She's always on the phone, and I heard a lot of shouting going on the other day.
Mike: (Crosses his arms) How would you have known there was shoutin' goin' on if you didn't listen in yourself?
Micky: If there is, it isn't our business or yours. *shrugs*
Peter: He must have really good hearing!
Davy: (Smirks) Now 'o's the bloomin' spy, Babbitt?
Babbitt: (Is at a loss for words for once) I...I... (regains his composure and shakes his finger) Look, I'll give you another week, but I want the rent by then, or out you go! (Slams out the door. All of the boys wince. Peter whimpers again.)
Peter: I don't like him. He's so noisy!
Mike: And nosy.
Micky: That man is all hot air. *narrows his eyes*
Davy: 'E does 'ave a point about the rent, though. This is 'is place.
Mike: (shrugs) We'll pay him the rent after we play the gig.
Peter: (Leans back) I'm full! Mrs. Coulter makes great cinnamon rolls.
Micky: Man, we've got do stuff for them more often to get more of those cinnamon rolls. *grins*
Mike: Who gets the supreme honor of returning this plate to its attractive owner? ;)
(Three hands raise at once. ;) )
Mike: (Grins and raises his hand) Guess we're all goin'. ;)
(Peter washes the plate, and the boys head out the door and down the block to an older beach house that's pretty much a smaller version of theirs, with one floor and a smaller living room.)
Davy: (Points to some men in dark suits as they walk down the block) 'Ey, there, what's that?
Micky: I don't know, but it doesn't look good.
Peter: Maybe they're vaccuum cleaner salesmen!
Mike: Shhh! (Ushers the boys behind some trees in the Coulters' side yard.)
(What the boys don't notice is a simple but elegant black car sitting discreetly on the other end of the block from the beach house and the Coulters'. The dark windows are rolled down to reveal a pair of portly, narrowed eyes.)
(The men carry suitcases. They knock on the door. Mrs. Coulter answers.)
Mrs. Coulter: Hello? (Frowns) What are you doing here? (Looks around nervously) We're really not interested.
Man 1: Of course you are, Elaine. You and your hubby are going to do another little job for us.
Elaine: (Steps back) No...no, we're not. We're not doing that anymore.
Man 2: Why don't you go get Hubby?
Mrs. Coulter: (Calls over her shoulder) Jim! Come here, quick! (Turns to the men) We don't want to do anything else for that ruthless lunatic! We almost got killed the last time!
Mr. Coulter: What is it, Lanie? (Voice turns into a snarl) Oh, Ruggins and his boys. I thought I told you not to come around here anymore. We aren't helping your boss make anything else, and we aren't going to round up parts or innocent people. We've had enough of that life.
Man 2: We could make it worth your while, Coulter.
Mr. Coulter: There's nothing you can give us that Elaine and I want. (Very low; the boys have to strain to hear) Tell your boss I don't give a rat's fat ass what he wants or what he wants us to do. We won't be helping him anymore.
Man 2: You know, the boss has contacts from here to hell. (Audible smirk at the "hell.") One of these nights, you might wake up to find a few of them leaning over you and your pretty wife with a gun and an intention to shoot first and not bother askin' questions.
Mr. Coulter: (Low and angry) Get. out. of. here. Now. Or I will call the cops. That is my final word on the matter. If you ever threaten me or Lanie again, I will take what we both know to the FBI and the CIS.
Ruggins: (Narrows his eyes) You're gonna regret this, Coulter. The boss will get you. Count on that.
(Coulter just slams the door in his face. The men take off down the street as the boys exchange worried looks.)
Mike: Oh, man...
Davy: They're in serious trouble, guys.
Micky: This is terrible!
Peter: (He's starting to cry) Those nice people! They don't deserve that, especially Elaine...
Mike: I wish there was some way we could help.
Davy: There's not a whole lot we can do, Mike. We're not the bloody Men From U.N.C.L.E.
Micky: Who says we have to be?
Mike: Any ideas, guys?
Davy: Why don't we bring the plates back and go on the beach? Walk a bit. Maybe somethin' will come to us.
Mike: (Looks up at the gathering clouds on the horizon) I don't know, Dave...
Peter: Walking on the beach always clear my head.
Davy: And considering what 'is 'ead's like, that's sayin' a lot. ;)
Micky: Just a short walk, Mike, c'mon...
Mike: (Shrugs) Guess it couldn't hurt. (Nods at the Coulters' house) Who gets to bring the plate up to Mrs. C?
Peter: How about Micky? He ate the most!
Davy: Yeah, it's only fair. ;)
Micky: *shrugs* I don't mind.
Mike: (Hands the plate to Micky) I entrust this to you, my son. Guard it with your life. ;)
Micky: *holds the plate to his chest* I will guard it with my life, Chief. If I'm not back in 15 minutes, send a banana cream pie after me. *winks and heads toward the house* ;-)
(The boys amble after him a few inches behind, chuckling. Micky rings the doorbell. A weary Jim Coulter answers it.)
Mr. Coulter: Don't you people... (takes a good look at who it is and smiles) Oh, Micky, fellows. It's you. What brings you guys over here? Need to talk about the gig? It's next week. You can come early and mingle with the guests. They'll mostly be old musicians and locals.
Micky: *holds out the plate* Just wanted to bring your plate back & thank you again for the rolls and the gig.
Mr. Coulter: (Takes the plate) You're welcome, son. You're good boys. You deserve all the success in the world.
Micky: *smiles* Thanks, Mr. Coulter. Hopefully, someday we will stumble onto success. ;-)
Mr. Coulter: I'm sure you will. You guys have too much talent to spend your careers like Lanie and I did, riding from backwater town to backwater town, never knowing where you'd sleep or if you'd have enough money to eat or get a hotel or pay the boys in the band. There were times between gigs when we had to take odd jobs for corporations or starve to death. (Shakes his head) But you guys don't need to hear my old war stories. Go have fun. Enjoy your youths. You're only young once, you know. :)
Mike: Thanks, Mr. Coulter. We really appreciate this.
Micky: Thanks, sir. *smiles*
Mr. Coulter: (Looks up at the darkening sky) If you all want to go enjoy yourselves, you'd better do it now, before this storm hits. (Grins) Go chase beautiful girls in very skimpy bathing suits for me. ;)
Davy: I like the way you think, Mistah Coultah. ;)
Mike: (Elbows Davy) Like he needs encouraging! ;)
Micky: That isn't such a bad idea. ;-)
Mike: (Rolls his eyes) What am I going to do with you two?
Mr. Coulter: Take them to the beach, before it pours. (Makes a face as an "oof!" and an announcer's voice is heard) And I'd better get back to my game. If I'm gone for too long, Lanie might change it to the afternoon movie. Have a nice evening, fellas. ;) (Goes back in)
Mike: (Sees Davy and Micky's hopeful expressions) Well, I guess we're goin' to the beach, then. (Shrugs)
*Micky whoops with joy again.*
Mike: (Nods toward the block) Come on, guys.
(They take off for the beach house, not noticing that the owners of the car has been watching them the whole time. The car takes off in the opposite direction. We see the boys walk down the beach steps, then head onto the beach. Davy and Micky keep pursuing the few pretty girls who are also walking on the beach. Peter and Mike just walk along, not saying anything. The other two finally catch up with them as they come along to a series of dunes and rocks, with no houses to be seen anywhere.)
Mike: Man, where were you guys?
Micky: Checking out the scenery. ;-)
Davy: And, for a night like this, there was quite a bit of groovy scenery. ;)
Peter: (Looks around) I like the scenery, too! It's so pretty here. They didn't have beachs and palm trees in Connecticut!
Mike: (Sighs) Pete, that's not the kind of scenery they mean.
Peter: Then what kind...
Mike: Trust me, you're better off not knowing. You wouldn't get it.
Peter: Oh.
(The clouds have been steadily increasing as the boys have been walking. Suddenly, there's a low rumble in the distance.)
Mike: Man, Mick, didn't you have enough cinnamon rolls?
Micky: That wasn't me! I think we've outwalked our welcome. *points to the sky*
Davy: Mike, it's gonna pour any minute.
Peter: (Wails) I wanna go home!
Micky: *shrugs* So we'll get a little wet...
Mike: (Puts out his hands) Now, stay calm, guys. We can just run along home...
(There's a louder roll of thunder and a lighting bolt a mile wide.)
Micky: *jumps* Okay, that did it!
Davy: A litt'l wet and fried to death! :o
Mike: Mick, you know these beaches. Is there any good places to get out of the rain where we won't be turned into Monkees, extra-crispy style? :o
Micky: Nearest docks, I'd say. At least we won't be in the open or the tallest things around.
Mike: Right. Come on. (Leads the guys to a near-by dock as the rain starts pouring down. The guys hurry under the dry part, leaning against an abandoned, dry rowboat.)
Peter: (Clutches Mike and whimpers) Mike, I'm really scared! I don't like thunderstorms! They make too much noise! :o :((
*Micky watches the rain, a slight smile on his face.*
Mike: Aw, man, Pete, don't cry. Thunderstorms are just arguments between clouds. When they've made up, they'll be quiet again.
Peter: I hope it's soon! I've heard lightning can hurt people!
Mike: We'll be safe here. It's nice and dry and warm.
Davy: (Looks around) Yeah, too dry and too warm, if you ask me.
Micky: *still staring* Besides, the chances of lightning striking are slim anyway.
Peter: (leans back against the rowboat) It feels really nice down here. Almost like we had a fire.
Mike: (Frowns) There's somethin' weird here. I can feel it. Don't ask me how.
Davy: Well, if whatevah it is keeps us dry and don't 'urt us, I say let well enough alone.
Micky: *nods, still staring out* I'm with Dave. We're fine here. Let's not make trouble. ;-)
Peter: (puts his hand down on the spot in the middle of the four Monkees as the others settle down and watch the storm. There's a small blue-green light, and he springs back) Hey! Guys, something just touched my hand!
Mike: (Frowns) What the...
Micky: What did you...
(Peter puts his hand on the sand again, and there's the same faint blue-green light.)
Micky: *eyes widen* Whoa, groovy! What is that?
Mike: Guys, be careful. We don't know what it can do.
Peter: Michael, I'm ok! In fact, I've never felt more ok! I feel great! Almost... stronger.
Mike: Stronger?
Micky: *moves closer* Lemme see...
Davy: What in the world...
(Davy touches the spot. A small dark blue light flows across his hand and eventually his body.)
Davy: (Looks at the sand, then his hand) Oh, man...
Micky: *wide grin* Neat! *touches the spot next, an almost purple light does the same to him as what happened to Davy*
Mike: Good god...
Davy: (Flexes his arm) Mike, Petah's right. I feel...different.
Micky: Better different!
Mike: Well...here goes nuthin'. (Touches the spot - a blue-white light shoots across his arm, the way it did for the other boys.)
Mike: (Flexes his good hand) Wow...guys, you're right... (looks at his other hand; his eyes widen) Guys?
Peter: (Flexes his arm) What, Mike?
Mike: Guys, my...my hand... (Shows them his right hand. His hand, which he had damaged in a childhood sledgehammer accident, can now make a perfect fist)
Micky: *breathes out* Oh, my God...
Mike: (Looks at the others) Guys, there's somethin' goin' on.
Peter: The ground made us stronger!
Davy: But how?
Micky: I don't know, but it's really groovy!
Mike: (Sees a bluish glow under the sand) Hey, there's something under there!
Davy: What?
Peter: (Digs - the glow becomes slightly brighter) I think Mike's right. There's something under the sand!
Micky: *Also digs* Let's find out what it is!
(All four boys dig at once. They finally unearth a faintly glowing blue jewel.)
Peter: Wow...
Davy: Groovy, man!
Micky: Whoa!
Mike: What in the world...
(There's another lightning bolt and loud thunder. All four boys jump.)
Peter: (Wails) I wish there was a way for all of us to just go home without getting wet!
Mike: Well, the crystal's kinda warm. I think we can hold out...
Davy: (Pats his friend) There there, Petah. Why don't you just imagine that you're at 'ome and dry? Maybe that will make you feel a litt'l bettah. Next best thing to actually bein' there.
Micky: Yeah, man, close your eyes and picture all of us back at the pad. *grins* ;-)
Peter: (City-Lighting Grin) Ok! (Closes his eyes - all of them do, still holding the crystal. The crystal glowly intensely, and suddenly, the boys vanish... and reappear in the living room of the pad, now dry. The crystal is with them, sitting on a table near the bandstand.)
Mike: (Looks around, dazed) What the...
Peter: We're home! (Claps his hands, then frowns) But how did we get here?
Micky: *eyes widen* I was only joking, wasn't I?
Mike: I dunno. One minute, we were under the dock, and then Peter said he was going to imagine we....
Davy: ...That we were 'ome and dry. (Turns to Peter) Peter, did...did you some'ow get us 'ome?
Peter: (Shakes his head) N...no! All I did was close my eyes and imagine that we and the crystal were in the Pad and dry. When I opened my eyes, we were here! (Gasps) The crystal must have done it!
Micky: *shakes his head* This is too weird, even for me!
Mike: How could a crystal take you home just because you imagined it?
Davy: I wonder... (Closes his eyes. Suddenly, a pretty girl appears and sits on his knee.)
Micky: Dave!
Davy: (Grins at the girl) 'Ey, Mike, it works! ;)
Mike: Yeah, well, if it really works, imagine her back, please! :p
Davy: Awww, Mike, you're no fun! (Closes his eyes; the girl disappears)
Micky: Lemme try that! *closes his eyes; a sandwich appears in his hand*
Mike: Man, that's crazy! You can't just make things appear out of thin air!
Micky: *takes a bite of his sandwich* Imagine some food. It's great!
Peter: Yes, we can! (Closes his eyes and his bass appears) See?
Micky: *with his mouth full* It's matter displacement and replacement. *shrugs and takes another bite*
Mike: Yeah, well, it's unbelieveable.
Davy: Mike, you see it with your own eyes. What else do we 'ave to do to convince you?
Mike: I don't know. It's just too strange. (Flexes his hand again) And my hand...
Davy: I wonder what else we could create?
Peter: Maybe someone could imagine us a full dinner!
Micky: Sure thing! *closes his eyes*
*An entire spread, almost buffet style appears on the kitchen table & counter.*
Mike: (Grins a little) Oh, man...
Micky: This is so groovy! Man, I love this!
Peter: Good work, Micky! (Hugs him) I'm so hungry, I could eat a hippopotomus!
Micky: I am not imagining a hippo, Pete. ;-)
Peter: Why not? I think it would make a groovy pet! ;)
Micky: *shakes his head* No.
Mike: No, Pete. We talked about this when we first moved in. No pets. We can't afford them, we don't have the time for them, and Babbitt doesn't allow them.
Micky: Maybe at Christmas for a day. ;-)
Peter: (Grins) Groovy! (Starts filling his plate; the others do the same)
Mike: You know guys, we can't be too obvious with this. The neighbors are gonna start askin' questions, not to mention Babbitt.
Micky: That's true. Maybe we could just use it when we have to.
Mike: Right. We save whatever powers we've seemed to acquire for true emergencies. (Sighs) As nice as this is, people are gonna talk.
Micky: Besides, we don't know if there might be any side effects.
Davy: (Nods) Right. (Grins) But for now, (sits at the table) let's eat!
Peter: (As he sits down) Hey, Mike, do you think we could help the Coulters now?
Davy: We're certainly strongah than those bullies!
Mike: We can't let people know about this, guys. How are we going to explain it? Some rock gave us super strength and fixed my hand?
Davy: They don't 'ave to know it's us.
Peter: We could be someone else!
Micky: We'll just have to hide it somehow. *snaps his fingers* I think I may have it, guys. *grins widely*
Mike: (Rolls his eyes) I don't like that look.
Micky: We could be like superheroes with alternate identities and stuff like that!
Peter: (Grins) Groovy! Like Batman and Robin or Superman!
Micky: Exactly!
Mike: You've read too many comics, Mick. We ain't Batman or Superman or whatever. We're just plain old Monkee men.
Peter: The MonkeeMen! That's what we could be!
Micky: That's perfect! *points at Mike*
Mike: Wh...what? Didn't you hear me? We're not superheroes!
Micky: *stands* Why not? We've got the powers. Why not use them to help others?
Davy: Mike, it's the perfect way to 'elp out the Coulters without gettin' caught usin' our powahs and 'avin' to explain them.
Mike: I don't know. Superheroes always seemed like kiddie stuff to me.
Davy: Well, obviously, it's not anymore, Mike. It's 'appening to us.
Micky: Come on, Mike. We can work on this. Make it your liking, even.
Peter: (Opens his eyes as wide as they can go) Please?
Mike: (Sighs at the three hopeful looks and the one very big pair of tawny eyes) Oh, man. You'd need a heart of iron to be able to resist those looks, especially those eyes. (Sighs) Ok. We're the MonkeeMen.
Peter: Yeah! (Jumps out of his seat and hugs Mike)
Micky: *whoops again, jumping up and down* Alright, Mike! *is now floating* Uh, hey, guys...?
Mike: (He and Peter look up at Micky, surprised) What the...
Davy: (Eyes widen) I'd say "Micky, come down from there," but that just don't sound right...
Peter: (Grins) He's flying!
Micky: *shrugs* All I was doing was jumping! *flips in mid-air* This is so groovy!
Peter: Can we all do it? (Jumps and floats for a few seconds before landing on the psychiatrist's couch.) Oh, man! I guess I need a few more lessons. :p
Davy: Wait up, Mick! (Jumps and joins Micky in mid-air) This is beyond groovy, man! (He and Micky start showing off all over the room, back-flipping and floating and swimming in the air.) Look, mum, no 'ands! ;)
Mike: Guys, get down from there! You're gonna hurt yourselves!
Davy: Aw, Mike, why don't you join us? We're in the Pad. We ain't gonna 'urt nuthin'.
Micky: Stop being a stick in the mud, Mike! *does a few more flips*
Mike: (Grumbles) I'm gonna regret this... (jumps and also floats in mid-air) Oh, man... this feels weird.
Peter: (Jumps, gets into mid-air, then falls on the bandstand) Ouch! Awwww... :(
Mike: Let me give you a hand, Peter. (Picks up Peter and floats upstairs with him in his arms)
Micky: There you go! See, this isn't so bad, Mike. ;-)
Mike: I feel like I'm weightless.
Micky: I think that's the idea, man.
Davy: (Eyes Mike) I thought you already felt that way, Mike, with your sterling physique. ;)
*Micky chuckles.*
(Mike floats down, grabs a pillow, and throws it at Davy... and knocks Davy across the room and into a wall.)
Davy: Ow! (Rubs his head) Watch it, man! I didn't mean nothin' by it!
Micky: *gasps* Whoa!
Mike: (Gasps too) Sorry, Davy, I just...I guess I didn't realize how much stronger we are like this...
Peter: (Mike set him on the upper landing before throwing the pillow at Davy) Davy, are you ok?
Davy: (Nods) Yeah, it was just a pillow. Nothin' damaged but the wall, which weren't beautiful to begin with. What's one more crack in the plastah? :)
Micky: Just another mark to show that Mike was here. ;-)
Mike: Man, Mick... (starts after him)
MIcky: *tries to get away from Mike* Hey!
(Mike grabs Micky, turns him upside-down in mid-air, and starts shaking him. All kinds of things fall out of his pockets - gum wads, crumpled bills, loose change, wads of tissues, torn pieces of paper.)
Mike: (Grins and turns Micky back around) Ok, who's weightless now, Mr. Dolenz? ;)
Micky: Miiiiiike! Gah... *holds his head*
Davy: What do you 'ave in theah, Mick, your whole bloomin' closet?
Peter: I'm surprised he hasn't tried to fit his drums in there! ;)
Micky: *frowns* Well, what've you got in your pockets?
Mike: (Micky starts toward him) Oh, no you don't, Mick...
Davy: (Grins) I'll 'elp.
*Micky cackles somewhat evilly.*
Mike: Guys...
(Mike tries to fly to the surface, but the boys grab his arms, turn him over, and shake him. The only things that fall out of his pockets are loose change, guitar picks, and crumpled pieces of lined paper. His hat also falls off his head.)
Micky: Man, he's no fun!
Mike: (When he's right-side up) Hey, man, see what you did? You made me lose my hat! (Goes to the floor and retrieves his hat)
Micky: You picked it right back up! *makes at face at him*
Peter: Ummm... (riffles through his pockets) I have two dollars, a quarter, and the book on ancient Indian meditation my mother sent me in my back pocket.
Mike: Ok, guys, that's enough horsin' around. We'd better knock it off and get on the ground. Someone might notice us.
Micky: Like anyone snooping in our windows that shouldn't be. ;-)
(The three flying Monkees land on the ground.)
Davy: (As they land) And before you ask... (pulls out a black book) this is the only thing I have in my pocket. My list of every person I know in the neighborhood.
Micky: Big surprise there. ;-)
(Davy swats Micky on the back of the head as Peter joins them.)
Micky: Hey!
Mike: Ok, guys, enough. We've gotta practice.
Peter: Yeah!
Peter: Something nice and romantic for the Coulters' anniversary!
(The four head for the bandstand)
Peter: Mike, are we really going to be superheroes?
Mike: (Sighs) It looks like it. We'll help keep this neighborhood safe, anyway.
*Micky grins triumphantly.*
Davy: Yeah, most of the people 'ere, 'cept for the Parkers, are ovah 50, and the Parkers 'ave their little girl to take care of.
Mike: Yeah, but guys, we've got to keep this secret.
Peter: Why?
Micky: That's part of being a superhero. *shrugs*
Mike: It's really too hard to explain to anyone else. We don't understand it fully ourselves. (Swings Black Beauty over his shoulder as Peter and Davy gather their basses.)
Micky: *picks up his sticks* So you really wanna end up in a looney bin over this? *winks*
Peter: (Shakes his head) No. I like watching the Looney Tunes on TV, though!
Davy: (Sighs) Good Lord, you are a birdbrain sometimes, Petah.
*Micky sighs, shaking his head.*
Mike: Lay off him, Dave. (Turns to the others) So, what in our repertoire is appropriately romantic for a 30th anniversary?
Peter: (Softly) Well, I have some songs...
Davy: I could sing the slow version of "I Wanna Be Free."
Mike: Doesn't seem quite right...
Micky: *grins* Does the Chief have any ideas?
Mike: Well, Davy will appreciate this, but "I'll Be True To You" seems rather appropriate. ;)
Davy: (Grins) You know, sometimes, Mike, I actually like the way you think. ;)
Peter: Then why are you two always yelling at each other?
*Micky chuckles again.*
Mike: (Grumbles) 'Cause he's a stubborn brat.
Davy: (Makes a face at Mike) We don't always see eye to eye on 'ow the band should be run, but that don't mean we aren't friends.
Peter: (Whimpers) Can we play? I don't want any arguing!
Micky: *leaning on a tom tom* Sometime today, perhaps?
Mike: Right. (Counts off, and the four launch into "I'll Be True To You," which starts in the Pad but eventually fades into the Coulters' anniversary on the beach. People, some younger, most older, are milling around, listening to the guys sing. There's a large spread set up on picnic tables. The happy couple beams, surrounded by well-wishers in summer outfits.)
(The romp finishes with the boys, now in their yellow shirts and vests, playing the song on the bandstand.)
Mrs. Coulter: (Running up to the boys) That was beautiful, really!
Mr. Coulter: Nice job, fellows. You and your buddies have some great material. (Hands them the money) You all more than earned this.
Mike: (Looks at the wad of papers in his hand) Oh, man! Thanks, Mr. C!
Peter: We'll be able to pay the rent!
Micky: Alright! *taps out a riff*
Mrs. Coulter: (Rolls her eyes) Ignore Henry, boys. His bark is far worse than his bite. He blusters and fusses, but he's really a pussy cat when it comes down to it. I think he's just lonely.
Mr. Coulter: We ought to have another party, just so you guys can play. :)
Mike: I could live with that. ;)
Micky: We'll take it!
(Suddenly, the crowd parts to reveal a man in a buisness suit. The man is extremely corpulent, but has a rather handsome face for someone his size. His suit is well-tailored, and he carries himself with the air of a man who is accustomed to giving commands. He is surrounded by a group of men in dark suits similar to the one the boys saw the week before. Jim Coulter immediately presses Elaine behind him.)
Mr. Coulter: (As the boys look on in confusion and the partygoers in a mixture of shock and annoyance) What are you doing here, Kristof?
Kristof: My dear boy, I'm just coming to see you and your lovely wife. No harm in that.
Mr. Coulter: My answer is no.
Mrs. Coulter: Can't you leave us alone?
Mike: What's goin' on here?
Kristof: (Pats Mike condescendingly on the head) My, my, what adorable children. (Hands Davy a card as Mike growls) My name is Blaine Kristof, owner and head scientist of a corporation devoted solely to creating machines to enhancing the musical experience.
Mr. Coulter: (Angrily) Destroying it, maybe! Your machines distort sounds!
Mrs. Coulter: Please, Mr. Kristof, we don't want anything to do with you anymore.
Mike: Um, we're playin' a gig here, so if you'll just...
Kristof: (Puts out his hand to Coulter) James, you and Elaine were fine assets to our corporation. You could be again. Come with me.
Mr. Coulter: (As the crowd gasps) Never! I won't help you again, and Elaine won't, either!
Mike: Damn, man, leave them alone! No means no!
Micky: What part of that don't you understand?
Davy: Yeah, man, you're a real drag.
Peter: (Very softly) Go away, please.
Kristof: I don't take orders from little boys.
Mike: Why you... (takes off Black Beauty and lunges into the huge man. Mike knocks him off the bandstand and against the picnic table. As they struggle, the table breakes, accidentally spilling a huge pot of steaming hot coffee on the combatants.)
Peter: Mike! (Takes off his bass and runs down the stairs)
*Micky drops his sticks & runs after Peter.*
(A huge scream rips through the air. Mike pulls out from under the table, messy and minus his hat, but otherwise unharmed. Kristof, however, clutches the right side of his face. Mike gasps)
Mike: Oh, man, I'm sorry. I just...
Kristof: My face, you little brat, my beautiful face! Look at what you've done!
Davy: (Finally joins his bandmate) 'E didn't mean it!
Kristof: (To the men, who have been pointing guns at the partygoers) Kill them! If they won't work for me, they're expendable, all of them! Kill them!
Mike: No!!! (Starts after Kristof again, he is surrounded by his thugs, who brandish weapons.)
Peter: Oh, god, Mike. What are we going to do?
Micky: Oh, man...
Mike: (To Peter) Peter, go up to the Coulters' and call the cops. Imagine yourself there.
Peter: (Nods) Right! (He closes his eyes and vanishes)
Davy: As for the rest of you (kicks one man in the hand - the gun flies out of his hand and into the sea), I don't think automatic weapons are good party prizes. ;)
Mike: (Closes his eyes - another goon's gun is now in his hand) Ok, fellows, anyone want to try anythin' funny?
Micky: *punches another man and throws his weapon out into the water* This is kinda fun!
Mr. Coulter: (Gets down off the bandstand) What...how...
Mrs. Coulter: (As the partygoers gasp) What happened to you, boys?
Mike: We...we're MonkeeMen, Mrs. C.
Mr. Coulter: Maybe you'd better tell us what's going on.
Mike: We ain't sure ourselves.
Kristof: I grow impatient!
Davy: I could grow some roses for you if you wanted to wait a few months.
Micky: Peter grows daffodils. *shrugs*
(Brief clip of Davy and Micky standing over a very small rose bush seedling, waiting in the day and night for it to grow. ;) )
Kristof: This is idiotic!
Mike: So are you, pal, so we're even.
Kristof: Seize them! Maim them, the way this tall one has maimed me!
Mike: (Three men come at him at once - he duels with them) Micky, behind you! Watch out! Davy!
Davy: (Sees two men coming at him) Now, mate, that ain't nice. (Kicks them both in the stomachs at once. They fall over in pain.)
Micky: *side steps one guy running at him* Nya nya! Missed me! *holds an arm out as another runs by and clotheslines him*
Kristof: (As the partygoers start running helter-skelter) Keep them occupied, gentlemen! I'll handle Coulter!
Mr. Coulter: You won't handle anyone, Kristof.
Kristof: You could do great work for me and the Man Downstairs. We're a close team, me and him.
Mrs. Coulter: (Gasps in total shock) NEVER!
Mr. Coulter: Forget it, Kristof. It's over. (There are police sirens in the distance) The blond boy called the cops. They'll be here any minute, and you'll be in jail, where you belong.
Kristof: And you'll be joining the Man Downstairs. Say hi to him for me when you do encounter him. We have a long-standing friendship. I think he'd enjoy this. (Pulls a gun out of his pocket and shoots Coulter in the gut.)
Mrs. Coulter: Noooo! (Kneels by his side, cradling him) Jim...oh, God....
Mike: (Hears the gunshot and sees Kristof pull the gun) NO!!! (Thug after thug continues to grab hold of him, keeping him from the Coulters)
(There's another shot, and Elaine Coulter collapses next to her husband, a bullet wound in her stomach.)
Kristof: Poor woman. Took her out of her misery. Now she's with her husband.
Davy: YOU BASTARD!!!!! (Ducks under several pairs of legs, running towards Kristof)
*Micky tries shoving thugs away, but they keep coming, frustrating him.*
Mike: Oh, god... (He reaches Kristof at the same time the police make their way onto the scene.)
*Micky finally shoves his way out of the goons and joins the others.*
Mike: (Practically in tears) How could you?! They were the nicest couple ever, and you just... (takes a swing at him as the cops arrive. It connects with his nose. A gush of blood flows from the corpulent man's heavily burnt nose.)
Kristof: You little brat! (Takes a knife from one of his thugs and tries to slash Mike in the face, but he throws his arm up. The knife cuts into his yellow sleeve, leaving a gash.)
Mike: Owww...you...bastard!
Micky: Mike!
Davy: You... (he starts at Kristof, but several thugs block him)
Kristof: I'd love to stay and admire my handiwork, but I must be going, if nothing else (glares red hot daggers at Mike) to repair the damage this smart-mouthed child's done. Perhaps, when next we meet, you'll be more worthy of my steel. (Turns away with a flourish. The cops and his men shoot at each other as the cops follow him down the beach)
(Peter finally emerges at this point with Sergant Nielson. Even he winces at the dead couple and the battered boys. Peter bursts into tears the moment he sees the bodies.)
Peter: Oh, no! Is that...please tell me it isn't...
Davy: (Nods sadly) That son-of-a-bitch Kristof shot them both, then tried to cut Mike open.
Mike: He only got my arm, though. I'll be ok.
Micky: *growls* Still...
Peter: (Sobs on Davy's shoulder) That's not fair! They didn't deserve to die! They were so nice to us!
Mike: (Quietly) That's it, guys. From here on in, no one knows about our powers. We'll keep them a secret and the crystal a secret. We'll hide the crystal in the middle of nowhere.
Sergant Nielson: (Makes a face as he turns away from one of his lieutenants) They lost him, boys. He and his men got into a car and out-ran my boys. (Looks at the horrifed, sad faces) God, I'm sorry you kids had to see this. This is ugly stuff.
Mike: (Gulps) It won't happen again, Sergant. I won't let it. We won't let it.
*Micky nods.*
Mike: (Quiet but firm) From now on, we will do everything within our power to keep all of the residents of this town safe from people like Kristof who will use them for his own ends.
Sergant Nielson: (Shakes his head) Look, I more than understand that you've all had a shock, but how do you plan on doing that? You're not cops or soldiers.
Mike: We have our ways, Sergant.
Sergant Nielson: (Looks at Mike's arm) Maybe I ought to have that checked out for you.
Mike: (Shakes his head) No, I'm ok. I know how to stitch myself up, and the others are unharmed.
Sergant Nielson: (Shrugs) Suit yourselves. We're going to need all of you to give statements at the police station on California and Palm Avenue tomorrow morning.
(The boys start back toward the instruments as medics come to pick up the Coulters. All the boys gather their instruments, except for Mike, who winces.)
Mike: (Looks down sadly) I...I let them die.
Davy: No, you didn't, Mike. You did everything you could.
Micky: Mike, no, don't say that.
Peter: I can't believe someone would kill them! They were such good people!
Mike: (Looks up, determination on his face) It won't happen again. (Turns to the others) From now on, we keep this secret. You can't tell anyone, or let on that we're not just some long-haired kids with a band. We'll only use the powers in real emergencies. (Looks at the others, dead serious) Promise me, guys. Promise you will keep this secret. I don't want anyone else we love ending up like the Coulters.
Peter: I don't, either. (Sighs) I promise.
Micky: *nods sadly* Promise, Mike.
Davy: (Also nods sadly) Me, too, mate.
Peter: (Puts his arm around Mike, being careful not to hurt his arm) Don't worry, Mike. We still have each other. We'll make this work. (Hugs him)
Mike: Aww, Pete...
Davy: (Joins the hug) Yeah, Mike. We'll make sure nothin' else like this evah 'appens again.
Micky: *also joins the hug* Never again.
Mike: (Grins) You guys...
(We fade out on the smiling, hugging Monkees, and back into the cave, where Lauren sits, wide-eyed at the guys' story...)