“These spy movies are so cool!” I exclaimed sitting on Erica and my couch in our Pad. I was watching the newest James Bond flick and as you can tell was also way into it.

“I think he's just a pig!” Erica replied from the kitchen referring to the star of the movies.

Just then, Micky came running into the house. He ran in front of the TV.

“Mick move!” I yelled annoyed.

“You have to help me, Davy is insane!” he said and pulled me from me seat. Why it couldn't wait I don't know, but son I was inside the Monkees living room with a very odd looking Davy Jones sitting there. He was decked out in Mod clothes, wearing big black-framed glasses, and his teeth were horrible. You'd think he really was English!

“You're looking shagadelic today baby,” he said looking up at me in my jeans and peasant top.

I raised an eyebrow at him with my arms crossed, “Excuse me?”

“What do you say you and I go back to mine a shag darling?” he replied with a very British laugh afterwards showing off his nasty choppers.

He opened his shirt to show a mound of hair on his chest. I was fully disgusted and started gagging.

“Micky, go look in the fridge for anything moldy,” I ordered thinking maybe the cause of this strange behavior was something Davy ate. Or else Peter's Root Beer Soup…

“Do I make you horny baby?” he asked and started to inch my way. He tried to kiss me and I screamed, hitting him across the face.

“You are wrong beyond compare!” I yelled and fled into the kitchen.

“He's acting worse then usual, and that pretty bad,” I said once entering the kitchen and being sure to block off the door, “Find anything?”

“This stiff,” Micky replied handing me a glass with some liquid in it. If you asked me, it looked rancid orange juice, or maybe it was Root Beer Soup, and could be the core of Davy's mental problem. I dumped it into the sink and washed the glass out.

Just then, I head a blood curdling scream come from the living room. Micky and I ran in to find Davy lying on the floor back in his normal clothes. I was afraid to touch him, so I grabbed the fire poker and gave his ribs a sharp poke.

Davy jumped up in surprise and looked at us, “What's going on you guys?”

“Do you have any ideas what was in here?” I asked showing him the glass.

“My mojo, it's gone!” he yelled and began to sob.

“Your what?” Micky asked.

“It was an experiment I made for a movie I wrote,” Davy explained with a sniff.

“Well Dave,” I said putting an arm around him, “Save it, that may come in handy one day.”

And it did. Because you know who the real creator of Austin Powers is? Oh no, not Mike Myers. But David Thomas Jones. Look at the small credits, it's there.

THE END