Mike placed his hands on the girl's small framed shoulders and scooted her over to a good viewing spot. He kept her waiting in anticipation for what she would find when she opened her eyes. Mike couldn't help but breathe in disbelief at the place in front of him. He was anxious for her to see.

"OK, open 'em." he said. The girl let her eyelids raise and the place she was in came into her visual picture. Her mouth dropped and she stomped her foot in amazement.

"Mike, this is gorgeous. How can you afford to live in a place like this? The rent looks way too high for someone who is unemployed."

"Trish, I have a plan." Mike explained vaguely.

"You do, do you? What is this wonderful plan of yours, Michael?"

"I've been workin' at that factory for quite some time now. I've raised plenty of money to afford the down payment. I just thought it was time for me to move on to something I enjoyed."

"Which is?" Patricia inquired.

"I'm gonna be rich and famous." Mike replied.

"Oh, no. Not this again." Patricia turned and walked further into the apartment, in a very dramatic fashion. "You're so level headed when it comes to everything else, but when music is involved, you just go insane."

"I'm not insane. This is the place I need to get all my practicin' done. This is a real work setting. That old place I was livin' at before wasn't comfortable. Always havin' to clean stuff up 'cause I wouldn't have a place for everything."

"Yeah, but it was affordable. Mike, I don't want to see you sing your way to the poor house."

"I'm not goin' to. I've recorded some tapes, I'm goin' to take 'em to some places. It's not just some stupid dream. I'm gonna act on it."

"Well, a man and his guitar isn't appealing to young kids of Malibu. You have to do something to spice up your act a little."

"No, I'm not spicin' nothing up. My songs are fine the way they are."

"Maybe a drum beat, some backup singers. Then, you'd have something." Patricia went on.

"OK, but where do I find this stuff? You said it yourself, I'm not exactly the richest person right now."

"But, according to you that's just now. Am I correct? You'll be rolling in dough within a month?"

"Now you're putting words in my mouth. I never said I'd be rich in a month. I'm aware that it's gonna take a little time." Mike explored the apartment a little more, deciding instantly where he wanted to set up his music equipment - which now consisted of a guitar and a piano. He figured he could fill it in with other instruements and recorders once he had some cash. Probably help him write better songs too.

"So, this place is pretty big. What, is it your bachelor pad now?" Patricia inquired.

"I guess you could call it my pad. I wouldn't say I'm a bachelor, though."

"You don't have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend by choice. I'm happy."

"Bachelors are usually happy men." Patricia snapped her fingers. "You know what? You could write a song about bachelors."

"OK, now if you're just goin' to be a smartie about it, you can leave." Mike pointed to the door. Patricia chuckled and slowly moved towards the door. "We'll see if I call you when I'm rich and famous."

"We'll see if I help you move all your stuff in here when I'm rich and employed!" Patricia retorted. Mike responded by throwing his green wool hat towards the already closed door.

continued