"You're WHAT?" screamed Davy.

"I'm three months pregnant," replied Majandra weakly.

"Majandra, you've only been gone for a week," Honey noted.

"I know; Davy works really fast," Majandra said.

"Well, that's just-" Cordelia began snappishly, but she stopped after a scolding glance from both Honey and Micky. "Super," she finished through gritted teeth.

"Er" Zelda giggled nervously, "Are you sure?"

Majandra nodded. Davy sank to the floor with wide eyes.

"This is awkward," Mike murmured. The six friends started to back away slowly.

"I-I think I hear my goldfish calling," Micky said suddenly, bolting up the spiral staircase.

"I left the toaster on!" Honey shouted, following Micky's lead. Peter grabbed Zelda's hand.

"We need to uh save a child from drowning!" he claimed, and they ran out the French doors, Zelda giggling all the while at Peter's fingers laced through hers.

"I need to feed the chickens," said Mike dryly, and he retreated up the staircase.

"I think you two are pathetic and I don't 2want to witness this," Cordelia told them bluntly, and she followed Mike up the steps. Majandra looked to Davy, who stared at the ground in shock. "Say something," Majandra muttered, "Say anything"

Davy sighed deeply. "Life has cut this cloth; not I," he murmured sadly.

"You're angry?" Majandra guessed.

Davy looked up at her. He smiled suddenly, and took her in his arms. "I'm not angry," he said, stroking her hair, "I could never be angry with you."

Majandra smiled slyly and nestled her head between Davy's shoulder and head.

"Hey, Davy" said Mike during dinner, "How exactly do you plan to pay for this baby? I mean, you DID spend all OUR money on your little cruise excursion there. And we aren't getting any gigs in the near future."

"Ah, yes, Mike," Davy replied, "I've been planning all afternoon. I figure, if all eight of us get jobs, after six months we'll have accumulated enough money to raise the child through the first five years."

"WE get jobs to support YOUR kid?!?" Cordelia shrieked. She saw Micky raise his eyebrows at her. "How quaint," she continued.

"Uh Davy, I don't know if that's exactly the most fair solution," Mike explained slowly, "I mean, obviously we'd help you out as much as we can, but"

"But that would really suck," Honey concluded. Mike shot her a grateful smile. Zelda cleared her throat.

"Actually, I just got a job," she giggled sweetly.

"You did?" exclaimed Peter, "I'm so proud!"

"Where?" asked Majandra.

"A new restaurant," Zelda replied with a pleased giggle, "Called Auntie Elda's Grits. This really nice lady owns it. She's a little odd, though."

"How so?" asked Micky.

"Well," Zelda began, giggling thoughtfully, "When I walked in, she seemed very happy and she gave me the job right away. Then, I told her my name was Zelda McDougal, and she went completely white and fell over."

"Weird" pondered Cordelia. Zelda giggled.

"Sure is. And then, when she stood up, she seemed even happier," said Zelda.

"I'll come and eat there every day," Peter told Zelda dreamily. They gazed at each other for a moment.

"This Auntie Elda character" Cordelia interrupted, much to both Peter and Zelda's chagrin, "She sounds very very odd. Watch out for her."

"Oh," giggled Zelda, "She's harmless."

Mr. Schnool pulled off the curly blonde wig he had used to create the character of Auntie Elda. What a great day this had been. Not only had he discovered the location of the four detention-deserving girls, but he had lured one of them into his devious plot to get Davy for himself. The evil little troll loved detention almost as much as he loved Davy, and he had devised an elaborate scheme in which he would break apart each of the Monkees' relationships. He figured, from his extensive lurking beneath the Monkees' windows, that Mike and Honey as well as Micky and Cordelia were not getting along already. Plus, Davy would stray from Majandra the second he encountered Mr. Schnool/Auntie Elda's charms, this Mr. Schnool knew for certain. The only relationship that actually did seem strong was the one between Peter and Zelda. Recalling Zelda's giggle-infested ways from class back in the future, Mr. Schnool figured it would be easy to influence her into hating Peter. Once the relationships were officially over, Mr. Schnool, Zelda, Honey, Cordelia, Majandra, and Davy would return back to the future (Marty McFly, ha ha) where the girls would receive life-long detentions and Davy and Mr. Schnool would live happily ever after, the Captain and Tenille of the gay troll circuit. Mr. Schnool sighed. Ah, the life of a villain

Cordelia woke up to the sound of much yelling and shouting downstairs. Remembering the unfortunate Micky/short clothes incident of weeks earlier, she got dressed long before going downstairs. There, she found Micky and Honey sitting at the kitchen table, playing a very loud and very fake card game.

"You cheated!" cried Micky.

"Oh, yeah, I cheated," Honey replied sarcastically, "How about you, Mr. Three Aces In a Row?"

"That's not my name!" Micky shouted, and he began to poke her until she was convulsing on the floor, giggling.

"What game are you guys playing?" asked Cordelia with a pleasant smile. Micky stopped poking Honey mid-giggle, and they began to stammer.

"Uh um uh well uh Creebige," they replied in unison.

"Wanna play, Cordy?" asked Micky.

Cordelia wanted to agree, but at that moment she happened to glance out the French doors, only to see Mike sitting on the porch all by his lonesome, picking a tune out on his guitar. "No, thanks," said Cordelia, and she walked towards the door. "Oh," she said, turning right before she went outside, "Don't call me Cordy."

Mike was staring down intently at his guitar, playing what Cordelia recognized to be the opening strains of "While I cry." She sat by his feet, and he smiled sadly at her, discontinuing his playing for a moment.

"Hey, Cordelia," he said softly, "I guess you just witnessed that."

"Yeah," she replied. Mike slid off the chair so that he was out of the view of both Honey and Micky, and sat by Cordelia's side.

"They're just friends," he said, a twinge of hope in his voice, "I think."

"I don't care," Cordelia replied quickly, "I mean, I don't care for my sake. I mean, as long as you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," Mike said with a smile, "As long as you're okay"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Cordelia said. She paused. "I mean, besides the obvious." She leaned her head on Mike's shoulder..

"I know, darlin'," he whispered, "I know."

Honey stared out the window blankly. The Creebige game had come to a very abrupt halt. Micky shuffled the cards repeatedly, but his eyes were focused on the same spot as Honey's. Mike and Cordelia had disappeared from view.

"He hates me," muttered Honey, fighting a stray tear that had started to come out of her eye.

"Mike doesn't hate you," Micky replied bitterly, "I know hate when I see it. Witness every time I've ever spoken to Cordelia."

"She doesn't hate you," Honey said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, Mike doesn't hate you!" Micky cried back.

"Well, fine!"

"Fine!"

They glared at each other for a moment before bursting out into giggles. Suddenly, Peter ran in, scuba gear in hand.

"Where's Zelda?' he cried breathlessly, "I want to go scuba diving with her!"

"Uh, she's at work, Pete," Honey replied, exchanging an amused glance with Micky, "At that Auntie Elda's Grits."

"That's right!" Peter exclaimed, and he dropped the scuba gear, grabbing instead flowers from a vase on the table. "Are you guys hungry?"

"Uh"

"Well, let's go, then!"

Micky drove the Monkeemobile while Honey rode shotgun. Peter sat in the back, seemingly speaking to himself.

"Hi, Zelda," he said under his breath before shaking his head, "Um no Oh, Zelda, hi! Hello, Zelda! No Zelda, you work here? No, no, no Hola, Zelda, que pasa? No, she doesn't speak Spanish Hi there, Zelda." Micky and Honey stifled their giggles.

When they entered the restaurant, Zelda was the first person they saw. She blushed, giggling. "Hi, guys," she squeaked, "Hi, Peter."

"H-h-hi, Zelda," she stammered, amazed by her well-accessorized beauty. She led them to a table, and was just taking their order when a rather short, strange-looking woman with curly blonde hair barreled out of the kitchen. The woman's eyes lit up as she saw Honey, Micky, and Peter, and she rushed to Zelda's side.

"Customers," she squeaked, her voice high and pathetic, "Hello. Zelda, are these friends of yours?"

"Yes, Auntie Elda!" Zelda giggled, "This is my friend Micky Dolenz."

"Pleased to meet you," Auntie Elda said blankly.

"And this is Honey Vilhelm," Zelda continued.

Auntie Elda smirked. "Hello," she cackled.

"And this," Zelda said, giggling more rapidly than before, "is Peter Tork."

Peter's heart beat faster just hearing Zelda say his name. He shook Auntie Elda's hand excitedly.

"Hi there," he said, "I just wanted to thank, for employing my friend. I mean, she's great, and she'll be a great staff member she's just very special to me."

Zelda giggled to the point where she could no longer breathe. She had just been called special by Peter Tork, and, well, come on he's Peter Tork. Auntie Elda smiled-a bizarre, twisted smile-and Peter sat back down.

"So nice to meet you all," she murmured darkly, and she turned back on her heel and retreated to the kitchen.

"I don't like her; she's evil!" Micky declared.

"Aw, Micky, she's just a sweet old woman with no friends," Zelda protested through a giggle.

"It's so nice of you to be her friend," Peter said, his eyes wide with love.

"Have I seen her before?" asked Honey shrewdly.

"She said she was at the surf contest," said Zelda, "She's always talking about Davy."

"No, I feel like I've seen her somewhere else," Honey said thoughtfully, "Like back home"

"Where are you guys from?" asked Micky. Honey and Zelda paused.

"Seattle," they replied in unison. Zelda giggled.

"Well," she said, "I'll go get your food. Bye, guys. Bye, Peter."

"B-b-bye, Zelda," Peter stammered. Once she was gone from the table, he grabbed a pen from his pocket and began to scribble furiously on a napkin.

"What's up, Peter?" asked Micky.

"Song," Peter murmured, pausing a moment to think, then smiling and scribbling even more. Honey looked to Micky quizzically. Micky leaned towards her and said in a whisper,

"When Pete gets a song idea, he just starts writing, wherever he is. I think somebody might have inspired him."

"Who, Auntie Elda?" Honey quipped.

"You know," Micky began, changing the subject, "I feel like I've seen her before, too. But it wasn't at the surf contest."

"Where was it?" asked Honey.

"I don't know" Micky replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I just don't know."

"Auntie Elda, I'm going home now!" sang Zelda. It was six o'clock at night, and the end of Zelda's shift, three days later. Usually, Zelda worked until eight, but she had come into work early in order to leave early and go to a peace march with Peter.

"Dear, can I see you a moment?" Auntie Elda/Mr. Schnool cackled malevolently. Zelda skipped into the kitchen, where she saw Auntie Elda sitting stonily sipping tea. She pushed a plate of fudge towards Zelda.

"Sit down and have some fudge, Zelda," said Auntie Elda in a low voice, "I need to talk to you." "What is it, Auntie Elda?" asked Zelda, giggling fearfully.

"I want to speak with you about this Peter Tork fellow. Now it seems as though you're rather stuck on him" Here, Zelda giggled. Auntie Elda/Mr. Schnool eyed her icily. "It's really no laughing matter," she/he continued. "When I was just twenty years old, I was courted by a man who was sweet and innocent, who made me giggle almost twice as much as Peter makes you giggle. We got married and I thought all my dreams had come true"

Auntie Elda paused. "What happened?" asked Zelda.

"He beat me. Continuously. Verbally and physically. I had bruises and scars all over my face for years, and I wasn't free from him until he finally died nearly a year ago."

"Oh, Auntie Elda," said Zelda sorrowfully, "I'm so sorry."

"If I had had someone like me to tell me he was no good," Auntie Elda declared, "I would have never had to have been treated like a dog by him."

"But but but" Zelda stuttered, "Just because he was a little like Peter doesn't mean Peter would do that."

"I wouldn't be so sure, my dear," Auntie Elda murmured, "You see, that man my former husband is Peter Tork's father."

mean Zelda gasped, "You're Peter's mother?"

"Oh of course not," Auntie Elda snapped, "Um the thing is see he cheated on me with some lowlife tramp and your little boyfriend was the result."

"But Auntie Elda-" Zelda cried.

"All I'm saying, my dear," said Auntie Elda smoothly, "is that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Zelda nodded slowly, then burst into sobs (that somehow sounded like giggles) before running out the door. Mr. Schnool cackled squeakily and tore off the blonde wig. He took a picture of Davy out of his pocket.

"One more step closer to you, my darling" he said softly, and the authors of the story shuddered in unison at the very idea.

"Zelda" Peter called softly, knocking lightly on Zelda's door. He was ready to go to the peach march and also ready to tell Zelda how he felt about her. He clutched the song he had just finished in his hand, and breathed slowly, trying to soothe his rapidly beating heart. "Zelda, it's time to go to the peace march. And I need to tell you something." He stared down at the paper in his hand, waiting. Finally, the door opened. Peter kept his eyes down as he quickly rambled incoherently to his love.

"Zelda, I wrote this song for you because I have something to tell you but I don't know how to say it in words because you're just so-" He looked up to see Zelda's red, teary eyes. "You've been crying," murmured Peter.

"Peter," Zelda said with a quivering lip, "I don't want to go to the peace march."

"But," he protested, "You were the one who told me about it. It was your idea."

"No," Zelda countered, beginning to sob, "I mean that I don't want to go to the peace march with you."

She closed the door to Peter's shocked face and fell over, shaking with sobs. Peter walked away, dazed. He had to go to the peace march by himself, it seemed. But more importantly, he also seemed to have lost Zelda. Slowly, he picked up his suitcase and numbly opened the front door.

"Bye, Petah," said a voice. Peter turned to see Davy, Majandra, Honey, Mike, Micky, and Cordelia sitting in the living room, gazing at Peter with concern. He hadn't said goodbye to them, after all, and he was shaking uncontrollably. Micky jumped to his feet.

"Peter, what's wrong?" the curly haired drummer cried.

"Nothing," Peter said through a choked cry, "See you guys in a couple of days." He shuffled out the door slowly.

"Now," Davy said, "It's not that I doubt Petah, but something tells me that there is something wrong."

"Way to go, Sherlock," Mike drawled.

Mr. Schnool paraded around the train station in his Auntie Elda costume, searching to see whether his blasphemous ways had had any effect. He/she almost tripped over a person lurking in the darkness. Peter Tork stepped out of the shadows, quickly wiping a tear that was rolling down his cheek.

"Hello, Auntie Elda," he said softly. Peter was shocked by her sudden (and soon stifled) cackle.

"All alone, Peter?" she smirked, "Aren't you going on that peace march with Zelda?"

"I'm on my own," Peter replied in a low voice.

"Yeah, I saw that coming," muttered Auntie Elda under his/her breath. Peter, though he often seemed slow and vague, heard this comment and came to a shocking realization.

"What did you say to her?!?" he cried.

"To who?" Auntie Elda asked.

"To Zelda!" yelled Peter wildly.

"Nothing," simpered Auntie Elda, "We had some tea, some fudge I told her that if she got any closer to you, you'd beat her"

"WHAAAT?" Peter shouted, aghast, "That's not true! You know that's not true!"

"I know," smirked Auntie Elda, "But Zelda doesn't know. She trusts her Auntie Elda, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Peter stuttered and stammered, too angry to get words out. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "What is it?" Auntie Elda asked evilly.

"Song," muttered Peter. With that, the train to San Francisco pulled up and Peter stole away. Feeling as though he had not left a strong enough impression on Auntie Elda, he stuck out his tongue, and began his journey to the peace march.

The two days that Peter was gone were sad and depressing for Zelda. She sat in her room, trying to even vaguely imagine anyone looking or acting like Peter beating anyone. She couldn't. Still, why would Auntie Elda lie to her? And why did she look so damn familiar?

Meanwhile, Honey and Micky were unable to stop playing Creebige. They had, by that time, played over four thousand games in a row, and were completely obsessed. Mike and Cordelia, on the other hand, had little to do but watch the other two play Creebige, and this wasn't really all that exciting. Finally, during a slightly blurry-eyed game #4007, Micky looked up at his two glum friends.

"Do you want to play?" he asked. Mike and Cordelia agreed, having nothing better to do. "Okay," Micky continued, "Mike, you play with Honey, and Cordy, you play with me." "Don't-" interrupted Cordelia.

"I know," said Micky with a grin.

"The first rule of Creebige," explained Honey as she dealt the cards to her friends, "You do not talk about Creebige."

"What?" replied both Micky and Mike. Cordelia shot her a scolding, albeit amused, look. "No, actually," Honey corrected herself, "The first rule to Creebige is that there are no rules to Creebige."

With this, she tossed the cards in the air and all four scuttled to catch them. They proceeded to finagle their way into winning using a variety of gibberish terms.

"Oh, he's a crab-" noted Micky.

"Um, a double flipper sever" Honey interjected.

"A rolly jojer!" shrieked Cordelia. Mike and Honey stared at her with wide eyes. Embarrassed, she turned to Micky, who was positively beaming at her.

"Out of sight, Cordy," he said appreciatively.

"Thanks," Cordelia replied, "But don't call me Cordy."

"A a a" Mike attempted.

"Sound it out," prompted Honey.

"A flying" he began, "A flying cracker bludger monkey seven four."

"What the hell?" muttered Micky.

"Oh, my God!" cried Honey, "A flying cracker bludger monkey seven four! Oh, we won! We won that fair and square!"

"No, wait!" Micky yelled, jumping up and down, "We had a rolly jojer! You can't beat a rolly jojer!"

"NOW HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, MICKY JAMES BROWN DOLENZ!" Mike shouted in a low growl, standing and silencing the others. "Now, my friend shotgun here tells me that a flying cracker bludger seven four beats all other comers. And you never EVER doubt shotgun in my presence."

Micky paused in thought.

"Second place!" he cried, throwing his hand of cards in the air. A delighted squeal from Cordelia prompted him to pick her up and whirl her about in the air. For once, continued contact with Micky did not repulse her, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to spin her about the room. Knowing that Mike was much too shy to touch her on purpose, Honey jumped into his arms, knocking his to the ground.

"Yes, we won, shotgun," said Mike, happy with an excuse to hug her, "You don't have to be that excited by it."

"Oh, but I am," she murmured. He sat on the ground, and she stealthily cuddled him in her arms. Suddenly, as is always the case with cute situations in this story, Davy came barreling down the steps, almost getting hit by Cordelia's feet, as she was now swing-dancing with Micky to no music.

"Well, well, well, we are getting comfortable," he said with a smirk as he eyed Honey and Mike on the floor.

"We're playing Creebige," Micky told him as he dipped Cordelia, "You wanna play?"

"No, no," said Davy hastily, "I'm quite busy with Majandra." With that, he tore open the refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of whipped cream and running back up the steps two at a time. "Gee, I wonder what they're doing up there," Mike muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Playing Yahtzee?" guessed Honey.

As Peter's train pulled into the station, he glanced about hopefully for Zelda, but was disappointed to see only Mike, Micky, and Davy. He shuffled past them and got in the Monkeemobile, slouching down in his seat.

"She hates me," he said gloomily.

"Hi Peter! How was the peace march? Really? That sounds great! We really missed your great basic conversational skills around the house," Micky said brightly as he got into the car. Davy sat in the front seat and Mike took the driver's seat.

"What 'appened between you and Zelda, Petah?" asked Davy with a complete lack of tact. "Auntie Elda told her I'd beat her," Peter replied sadly.

"Aw, shucks, Pete, you think Zelda would believe an outright lie like that? She love you, man," Mike comforted him.

"She believes Auntie Elda," Peter said hopelessly, "And she doesn't love me. She didn't come to see me come back, did she?"

"She didn't come to see you," said Micky, "because we got a gig at Auntie Elda's Grits, and she, Honey, Cordy, and Majandra are kind enough to help us set up while we got you."

"A gig?" said Peter, sitting up with interest, "Can I contribute a song?"

"'Course, Peter," said Mike, "Just give us the music once we get there.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mike was saying nearly an hour later, "We have a song for you now that was written by our rayon-acetate throated organist. You've been a lovely crowd, so please, enjoy the vocal stylings of Mr. Peter Tork"

Pleasant applause filled the room as Peter took his seat on a stool and picked up his guitar. Zelda watched awkwardly from the table she sat at with the other girls. Every thing that was once warm and cuddly between her and Peter had all too suddenly become cold and distant.

"Hi, folks," Peter's voice called out, breaking through Zelda's thoughts, "I'd like to sing this song for my friend Zelda McDougal. It's called 'Your Auntie Grizelda'."

Even Zelda could not help but display the grin that spread across her face. He had written a song for her! Maybe things weren't as they seemed. Peter began to sing:

"She knows her mind alright, your Auntie Grizelda
She says she knows my kind, she might maybe so
Oh, yes, she's raised you right, your Auntie Grizelda
You only know the things she wants you to know
I know she's having a fit; she doesn't like me a bit
No bird of grace ever lit on Auntie Grizelda
You can't begrudge her style, your Auntie Grizelda
She couldn't budge a smile and do it for free
So righteous making fudge, your Auntie Grizelda
So proper judging others over her tea
You look just like her, you do; I know by looking at you
That you've been listening to your Auntie Grizelda

(insert wacky noises)

Oh, no, don't look at me like Auntie Grizelda
It takes much more to be someone of your own
You've got to make it free from Auntie Grizelda
Or just like her you've got to make it alone
I know she's having a fit; she doesn't like me a bit
No bird of grace ever lit on Auntie Grizelda
Auntie Grizelda, Auntie Grizelda, Grizelda, Grizelda-da"

But things were exactly as they seemed. Needless to say, Zelda was grinning no more. As the applause began to sound, she ran to the stage and looked up at Peter with wide, sad eyes.

"Peter!" she cried, "I'm so sorry! I've been an idiot!"

"Oh," he replied with a small smile, "You could never be an idiot."

"But" Zelda said, "That song it is about me, isn't it?"

"Well " he started slowly, "I guess so. I mean, yes."

Zelda put her arms around his legs and clutched them to her, sobbing "I'm so sorry, Peter, I'm so sorry, you've the most wonderful man in the world, forgive me!"

"OKAY!" he shouted, soon lowering his voice, "I forgive you. I was never angry with you. I just want us to be you know together again."

"We are!" Zelda cried, "We will be! I'll quite my job!"

"Hey, Pete," murmured Mike, "We need to play one last song. So, uh, if you just wrap things up now"

"Sure," said Peter good-naturedly, and he turned back to Zelda, "Uh I need to go. But thank you. And, I mean. I love uh, you know. This. Oh, and Zelda?"

"Yes?" she replied sweetly.

"Do you really think I'm the most wonderful man in the world?"

"Yes, Peter," Zelda giggled, "I really really do."

He beamed brightly and joined the Monkees in playing "Let's Dance On". Davy caught sight of Majandra dancing around wildly.

"Dahling!" he cried, "Don't! That can't be good for the baby!"

"Oh," she yelled back over the music, dancing closer to the stage, "I'm not actually pregnant. That was just a test! To see if you really love me! And you do! And I do, too! Love you, I mean!"

Davy fainted, causing his maracas to fall and shatter on the ground. Elsewhere, Zelda sidled up to a dancing Auntie Elda.

"I quit!" the giggly one giggled. Auntie Elda turned to her coldly.

"I know," she muttered, "And I'm very disappointed in you."

And with this, Auntie Elda flung her head back, managing to fling a blonde wig off of her head and onto the floor. An audible gasp-in-unison echoed through the restaurant as the three other girls ran to Zelda's side.

"YOU!" shouted Zelda, Honey, Majandra, and Cordelia.

"YOU!" snarled Mr. Schnool.

"Uh" said the Monkees confusedly.

"These girls are fifteen years old!" declared Mr. Schnool, pointing at the four friends.

"WHAAAT?" screamed Mike, Micky, Peter, and Davy.

"Uh, sir, what the hell are you talking about?" Cordelia asked quickly, looking at Mr. Schnool as though he were crazy, which he probably is. Her three friends followed suit.

"Hey, isn't that the crazy guy from our apartment?" Mike called to Micky, staring out off the bandstand.

"Yeah, yeah it is!" Micky replied, and without any further ado, he and Mike dropped their instruments and lunged at Mr. Schnool right off the stage. On second though, Micky ran back to his drumset and grabbed his drum sticks, proceeding to help Mike in beating Mr. Schnool, but this time armed. Rather than fight back, Mr. Schnool curled up in a little ball and screamed, "I did it for you, Davy! I did it all for you!"

Davy took the microphone and tried to avert the attention of the audience away from the beating that was taking place in the back.

"Ello, all, would you like to hear another song?" he asked.

"Way to help, Davy," Honey yelled at him as she held the door open, allowing Mike and Micky to kick Mr. Schnool out. Audience members began to filter out the door after him, now wholly uninterested in the seemingly rather violent band. Mike, Honey, Micky, Cordelia, Peter, Zelda, Davy, and Majandra were left standing all by themselves in the empty restaurant.

"Well," declared Davy brightly, "I thought that that went quite well."

Micky threw a drumstick at him.

Later that night, once all her friends had fallen asleep, Zelda could almost swear she could hear music drifting from downstairs. She left her room in her snowmen pajamas and cautiously approached a shirtless Peter Tork, who was strumming his guitar lovingly on the couch in the living room. Zelda attempted to lean against the railing at the very bottom of the steps, and instead fell over with a loud "Yeep!"

"Zelda!" Peter cried, "Are you all right?"

"Of course!" Zelda exclaimed with a sheepish giggle, and she sat across from him. He smiled brightly at her.

"Can I sing you a song?" Peter asked shyly, and Zelda nodded happily. He began to sing softly

"Walkin' down a lonely street,
I need someone to meet.
I run across sweet lookin' you; do you know what you do?
Oh, you tear the top right off my head
Blow my mind.
Yeah, I'm goin' blind.

Freaking out in the afternoon,
lookin' at a daytime moon.
Talk to me, I'll talk to you; do you know what you do?
Yeah, you tear the top right off my head
Blow my mind.
I'm goin' blind.
Sittin' by a firelight,
coffee cups for two.
Touch my lips with your fingertips; do you know what you do?
Yeah, you tear the top right off my head
Blow my mind.
Yeah, I'm goin' blind.

"That was so beautiful," Zelda giggled softly.

"It was about you," Peter said.

"What?" cried Zelda, "I mean, really?"

"Of course," replied Peter matter-of-factly, "I love you, after all. Who else would it be about?"

Zelda stayed silent for one giggle-free moment. "I love you, too," she whispered.

"Zelda, will you marry me?" asked Peter.

"Uh that's a bit to fast for my liking," she replied, "But I do love you."

Peter took the guitar out of his lap and crawled over to Zelda. He kissed her quite ravishingly, and when he was done, stroked her hair with sweet content.

"Wow, Peter," Zelda sighed, leaning her head on his shirtless chest, "You sure know how to use your mouth.