He looked down at his list again, and reached for a tin of baked beans. Placing it in the basket, Mike made his way to the produce section. Once there, he surveyed the area and put four red apples with the rest of the shopping. He then made a beeline for the vegetables, and inspected the carrots.
Sometime later, satisfied with his shopping, Mike ambled to the checkout. A pretty girl, with long brown hair and blue eyes smiled up at him and started ringing up the items.
“Price check for ‘Nesmith’s Sweet Young Thing’”
Mike felt his face burn, and he looked away from the girl with embarrassment. His song had started playing on the loud speakers. Eventually a spotty teenager appeared.
“Three dollars ninety nine.” The boy smirked at Mike before he left.
Mike just knew that his whole face had turned a dark shade of red.
The girl smiled again, and punched the price into the cash register, hardly seeming to notice his mortification.
“That comes to one hundred and four dollars, and eighty seven cents.” She looked up at Mike, waiting for him to pay.
Avoiding her gaze, he dug his hands into his pockets and rummaged around.
“Oh damn. I, uh, forget my, uh, wallet.” Mike stammered, turning redder still.
“I’ll just call the manager then.” The girl flicked on her microphone. “Paging Mr. Dolenz! We have a non-paying customer in checkout three. Paging Mr. Dolenz!”
Mike’s eyes grew wide. ‘Shit, non-paying customer!’ He looked around and saw Micky marching down one of the aisles, wearing a plain, purple business suit. He had to think quickly.
Grabbing the packet of carrots and his single of ‘Papa Gene’s Blues’, Mike bolted out the front door and into the car park. He headed straight for his unicycle, climbed on and started to peddle madly away.
Micky ran after him, but couldn’t keep up with Mike’s speed on the unicycle. He almost thought he was safe, until he heard the blaring of sirens from behind him. He chanced a glance behind, and saw that the police horse was nearing closer and closer. Mike peddled faster still.
“Stop! This is the police! Drop your weapon, and pull over!” Officer Jones pointed his maracas at Mike.
Without hesitation, Mike threw a large carrot over his shoulder, effectively knocking Davy off his horse, and disarming him. The maracas broke open as they hit the ground, spilling tiny people onto the road.
Millions of voices rang out in Mike’s ears, causing him to topple over.
“Mike! Please don’t run! I have the girl’s phone number!”
Turning bright red again, Mike looked over at the Peter covered ground as they all waved a bit of paper at him. He clutched the carrots and album close to him, trying to scoot away from the massive sea of Peters swelling towards him...
Mike woke with a start, and glanced around. The room was still dark, and Micky was snoring softly from the bed next to him. Sitting up, he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed.
He ran a hand through his thick hair, and squinted into the darkness. Clad in his black boxers, Mike stood up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. He took a glass from the cupboard, and ran it under the tap, savoring the taste of orange juice and gazing at the large, tabby cat which was perched on the table reading the newspaper.
“Lovely morning, wouldn’t you say?”