Making Christmas Bright

Emma frowned as she watched the three young men tug out the dusty boxes out of the garage. “Are you guys sure this is a good idea?”

Mike shrugged. “We’re just puttin’ the lights on the Pad, darlin’.”

The shorter young woman, Mike’s wife, shook her head. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just use our imagination powers? It’s pretty late. I don’t think anyone would notice.”

Mike shook his head. “Nothin’ worth doin’ is easy. Besides, usin’ our powers is too obvious. We don’t need people askin’ how we got our lights up so quickly.”

She made a face. “You just want to compete with Micky and his amazing display on the other side of Malibu Beach.”

“I hope not!” exclaimed a voice from behind a stack of boxes. “Mick only bought twenty thousand lights for his house! I’m not puttin’ up twenty thousand lights on the Pad! There’s an audition for a musical downtown I want to try out for this evenin’.”

“Now, Davy,” Mike scolded, “you be careful with those.”

Emma sighed. “Dave, I told you not to take so many!”

The third boy, Peter, emerged from the garage with the last box. “Here,” he offered, picking up some of the boxes blocking his shorter friend’s vision, “let me help you with that.”

Davy’s large brown eyes just barely peeked over the boxes. “Thanks, Petah. I needed that.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Are you two gonna help me put these up, or are you going to goof off all day?”

The smallest Monkee finally set the boxes on the ground. “’Ere’s the last of it, Mike.”

The tall lead Monkee nodded. “Thanks, Davy.” He put his arms around Emma, grinning. “Wanna help? You could hold the ladder while we get ‘em on.”

Emma shook her head. “And watch the three of you go tumbling off the ladder again and again? No thanks, honey, but I’m safer inside. I’ve got things to do, anyway.”

Her husband nuzzled her thick neck, ignoring the sniggers from the other two. “You sure you don’t wanna help us?”

She wriggled out of his grasp. “Yes, I’m sure.” She winked at him with a grin. “Save that thought for tonight, hon. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Mike watched wistfully as Emma headed back inside. Davy waved his hand in front of his taller friend’s dazed grin.

‘Ey, mate, you can make love to her latah,” Davy reminded him. “We need your help now.”

Mike shook his head. “Oh, yeah, right.” He put his hands on his hips. “Well, what are you waiting for, Christmas? Open the boxes, amigos, and let’s see what kind of shape these darn lights are in.”

The lights were not in good shape. When Emma came out an hour later with coffee, tea, and cookies, all three Monkees were trying to untangle long strings of lights. Some of the tangled balls of lights were several inches wide. “Oh, good grief,” she exclaimed as she set the food and drinks on the steps. “Honey, I told you to wrap them up and tie them before you put them away!”

Mike frowned. “I didn’t put the lights away last year! I thought Davy did that!”

“I didn’t touch them!” Davy exclaimed. “I thought it was Petah’s job last year.”

Peter shook his head. “It must have been Micky’s job.”

“Peter,” Mike pointed out as he tugged at the end of his string, “Micky wasn’t living with us last year. He and Lauren were still in the apartment behind Mrs. Purdy’s house.”

“Oh.” Peter’s eyes brightened. “Maybe a ghost did it!”

Emma sighed, crossing her arms. “Well, whoever did it made a real mess of it. They have to be all wrapped up before they’re put away, not just thrown in the boxes.”

“I think we know that now,” grumbled Mike as he started on another strand.

“Will you help us, Em?” Peter asked.

She once again shook her head. “Sorry, guys, but I really am busy in there. I’ve got cookies to bake and presents to wrap. You guys said this would be your project, as I recall, and you didn’t want any outside interference.”

Mike stuck his tongue out at her back as she walked back in the house. “You know, Mike, she does have a point,” Davy admitted. “It’ll take us all day to get these undone!” The short boy held up the snarled ball of lights he held for emphasis.

Mike just sighed. “Well, what do you want me to do? Wish it untangled?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Davy smiled mischeviously. “We could use our powahs.”

“No, guys.” Mike made a face. “Not for something as trivial as this. Besides, what if someone sees us?”

“Now, how can they see us if we’re here, hidden behind the bush?” Davy reminded him. “Besides, it would only be this once. We’ll put the lights up the normal way.”

“It would be good practice for us!” Peter insisted. He opened his light brown eyes as wide as he could make them go. “Please, Mike?”

Mike sighed. “I just can’t say no to those damn eyes. Fine, we’ll use our powers.”

“Yeah!” Peter clapped. “I’ll do it!” He closed his eyes. A blue light surrounded the ropes. Each strand began to quickly untangle itself, until they all lay in perfectly straight rows on the driveway.

“See, Mike?” Peter said, grinning as he opened his eyes. “No harm done.”

Davy set the ladder against the front of the beach house. “Mike, what do you have against us usin’ our powahs, anyway? You don’t use yours that much at ‘ome.”

“It’s not normal,” Mike reminded them as he gathered several strands and a stapler in his hands. “I don’t want someone on the beach to accidentally see us and start talkin’.”

“You’re afraid of the powers, Mike,” Peter said softly as Mike stapled a line of lights on top of the house, under the roof. Davy held the ladder and Peter worked on stapling lights around the doorway.

“Now, why would I be afraid of the powers?” Mike stapled a few lights, not really paying attention.

Peter looked up at his friend. “You can’t always control them. We still don’t know what all of our powers can do.”

“Look,” Mike began, trying to turn around on the narrow rungs, “all our powers have done is get us into trouble.”

“They’ve gotten us out of trouble, too, Mike,” Davy reminded him. “We probably wouldn’t be standin’ here having this argument if it weren’t for them!”

Mike sighed. “I just don’t wanna see anyone else get hurt, like what happened a couple of months ago. We've got little Monkees around now, and Em and I almost didn’t get married!”

Peter shook his head as Davy’s eyes widened. “Nothing like that is going to happen again, Mike. Zero and his niece are both gone now.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Mike muttered as he stapled another light and Davy made frantic gestures on the ground.

Peter frowned. “What is it, Dave?”

“Mike,” Davy wailed, “you’ve stapled your bloody tie to the roof!”

“I...what?” Mike tugged at his neck, but the tie refused to move. “Oh, man, you’re right.”

Peter immediately went to his friend’s rescue. “Here, let me help you down.” He pulled at Mike’s pants, but all that did was almost knock the taller Monkee off the ladder.

“Guys,” Mike gasped, “you’re chokin’ me! Here,” he thrust the stapler downwards, “somebody take this while I get my darn tie loose!”

Mike fumbled with his tie as Peter and Davy both leaped for the stapler at once. They ended up leaping into each other as the stapler crashed to the driveway, breaking into five hundred little pieces. The two Monkees exchanged frantic looks as Mike finally made his way down. His tie hung limply from the roof.

Peter held up part of the stapler. “We’re sorry, Mike!” the blond musician sobbed. “We tried to catch it!”

Mike sighed, shaking his head. “That’s ok, Pete. Why don’t you and Davy finish the roof and I go inside to see if Em has a stapler we could use?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really, Pete. I’ll do the rest of the door, then we’ll do the windows and the back roof.” He went inside, and Peter eagerly climbed the ladder.

“Careful, mate,” Davy warned the blond. “Don’t you get anythin’ stuck in theah!”

“I’ll be careful!” Peter assured him as he began stapling the lights to the roof. “I don’t wear ties!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, mate,” grumbled Davy as he held onto the ladder.

Mike had just put on his second tie of the day and was looking for the stapler when he heard a scream outside. Peter was holding his thumb while Davy looked it over. “Now what?”

Peter whimpered. “I stapled my thumb to the roof!”

Mike blinked. “How did you do that?”

Davy sighed. “Bloody idiot were watchin’ a couple of cute birds walkin’ by and weren’t payin’ attention to the roof. Next thing I know, he’s squawkin’ ‘bout his thumb bein’ stuck to the lights!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Davy finally pulled the staple out of Peter’s thumb. He sucked on the bleeding hole.

Mike sighed. “Why don’t you go inside and get a Band-Aid, Pete? Dave and I will finish the front.”

“Ok, Michael.” Peter went indoors and the other two went on with their work.

The work out front continued without further incident. Peter was still inside when the other two moved around back with another box of lights.

Davy climbed on the top of the ladder this time. “Ok, Mike,” he said as he opened the stapler, “you hand me the lights and I’ll put them on.”

Mike nodded. “Here you go, Dave. Just pay attention. Don’t staple anythin’ that isn’t roofing or wire.”

Davy was half way done with the lights on the top of the roof and windows when Peter stuck his head out the back door. “Hey, Mike, phone call! It’s from Junior Pinter. Remember him, the kid who ran the “Captain Crocodile” show?”

Mike’s eyes didn’t leave his smaller friend’s figure or the string of lights he held. “Yeah, I remember him. What does he want, Pete?”

Peter beamed. “He said he wants us to be on KLAC’s big Christmas spectacular! We’ll finally get to play on TV!”

“Hey, that’s groovy!” Mike exclaimed. “Hold on, Dave.” He let go of the ladder, leaving the smaller Monkee wobbling as he joined Peter inside.

“Mike?” Davy called. The ladder wobbled more, finally falling out from under him. It landed on the wooden veranda with a clatter. “MIKE!!!”

Davy was just barely hanging onto the roof when Peter stuck his head out again. “Hey, Davy, Mike wants to know if you would like to….” His eyes widened. “What are you doing up there?”

Davy sighed. “I’m checkin’ the roof for leaks, Petah.”

Peter nodded. “Oh, good. While you’re up there, check the roof over my room. There was a wet spot by the window the last time it rained.” He went back in, leaving Davy dangling.

Davy clutched the gutter for dear life. “Please hold,” he whispered desperately to the roof, “or I’m gonna end up bein’ a wet spot on the veranda!”

The gutter and Davy’s fingers gave out the same time Mike came back on the veranda, nibbling a spicy brown cookie in the shape of a star. “Miiiiiiikkkkkkeee!” Davy wailed as loudly as he could, finally getting the attention of the guitarist.

Mike’s eyebrows nearly hit the stratosphere. “How in the world did that happen?”

“Would you believe hours and hours of careful planning?”

That was when they heard a resounding crack. “Oh, man,” Davy wailed, looking at his hands, “the gutter’s breaking! Mike, do something!”

“Ok,” Mike told him. “Let go.”

“What?”

“Just let go. You’ll see.”

Davy gulped and said a quick, incoherent prayer before releasing the cracking fixture. He felt himself briefly fall through the air before landing in a blue light. He looked up and into Mike’s large brown eyes and big grin.

The short man frowned. “I thought you didn’t like usin’ your powers around the house, Mike.”

“Only when it’s necessary.”

“What in the heck is going on out here?” Emma and Peter hurried outside. Peter’s eyes widened. Emma grinned wickedly. “Why, guys, I didn’t think you cared.”

Mike immediately put Davy down. It was several moments before Emma stopped guffawing, Peter’s eyes returned to their normal size, and Mike and Davy would look at each other again.

The sun was setting over the blue Pacific Ocean. “We’re never going to get this done!” Peter wailed. “We’ve still got the back window and the door to do!”

“Yes, we will,” Mike insisted, grinning. “We’ll just imagine the rest on the roof and fix the roof in the process.”

Davy frowned. “What happened to not using our powers unless it’s an emergency?”

“It’ll be dark soon. People will think it’s just part of the display.”

Peter raised his hand. “Oooh, can I do it?”

“Why don’t we all do it, buddy?”

“Yeah!” Peter focused on the big picture window, closing his eyes. There was a soft blue light, and the window was now surrounded by strings of lights.

Mike nodded. “Nice job, Pete.” He sighed. “Ok, my turn.” He focused on the door, also closing his eyes. There was another blue light, and the door was now trimmed with light strings. He turned to Davy. “Ok, Dave, you get to fix the roof and finish puttin’ the lights up, since that was your fault.”

“Yes, Dad,” Davy grumbled. The same blue light appeared as he closes his eyes, and the gutter was now back in it’s place. The roof glittered with strings of tiny colors.

“Good job, boys,” Emma said with a smile. “Let’s go inside. I’ve got dinner going.”

“Oh, boy!” Peter ran inside in delight, followed by a still-grumbling Davy.

“What’s for dinner, darlin'?” Mike asked, putting his arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders.

“You’ll see when you get inside,” Emma grinned. She took one last look at the lights. “You guys did a great job, even if it did take you all day and damaged all three of you.”

Mike nuzzled her earlobe. “Thanks, darlin'. That’s the last time I’m puttin’ up the lights with those two stooges.”

Emma laughed. “That’s what you said last year!” She opened the door, winking. “Let’s take this inside, where it’s warmer and slightly more private.”

“Just slightly.” Mike grinned himself and strutted back in the beach house.

A red-and-green paisley tie blew softly into the California night, dangling off of one string of lights and flying like a flag over the neighborhood, bringing more peace and goodwill on the roof than it had on its owner.

The end