Didja know I own the Monkees? Just Kidding! I own nothing except the shoes on my feet.
Part Two
The girls arrived at the pad about fifteen minutes late. (“You guys ready to go?” “Just a minute, Gwen! I need to put my shoes on.” “Erg, Anne, you knew all day we were going out at eight, so why’d you choose now to put your damn shoes on?” “You don’t need to get all worked up about it, June. Sheesh.” “Shut up, Gwen.” “I will not shut up!” “Three-year-old.” “Anne, I was defending you!” “Well, my shoes are on, let’s go.” “Wait a second! I gotta go to the bathroom.” “Gwen, they have a bathroom at their house!” “So?” “AUGH!” etc.)
“Hi guys! Sorry we’re late.” Gwen chirped at Peter, who had let them in.
“No problem!” He grinned at her and held the door open for each girl-his eyes resting on Anne. Check out that mini-skirt! He thought to himself, eyeing her one last time as he shut the door.
“How long does it take to get here from next door, anyway?” Micky cracked, motioning to the clock.
“Ask Anne. She’s the one who kept us so long.” June smiled at the curly-haired guy, ignoring the glare Anne was giving her. She had not forgotten her friend's comment from that afternoon.
“Micky Dolenz, at your service.” He bowed deeply for June, and she blushed faintly.
“I’m, er, June, eh, Stuart.” She mumbled.
“Mike Nesmith.” Mike stepped forward and shook June’s hand crisply, then Anne’s.
“Peter Tork!” He exclaimed, also shaking Anne and June’s hands, but much more friendlier than Mike had.
“Anne Tyler,” She glanced sideways at Gwen, then back at Peter, wondering if somehow those two were related.
Davy appeared a moment later from the kitchen, he had been busy setting the table and hadn’t heard the girls come in. He strutted over and smiled at Anne, not bothering to hide the fact that he thought she was attractive.
“Hello luv. I’m Davy, and-ooh, I like your skirt.” His eyes trailed down the length of her body, eyes resting at the same place Peter’s had.
“Uh, thanks.”
“It’s actually Gwen’s skirt, which may account for the length. Or lack of it.” June babbled, not noticing that her words were pretty inane for any conversation, and that she had embarrassed her friend.
“So, what are we having?” Gwen bounced into the kitchen cheerfully. Peter and Mike followed, Peter ‘cuz he was beginning to like this girl’s enthusiasm even more than Anne’s mini-skirt, Mike because he had also noticed the similarity between his blonde friend and Gwen-and frankly he wouldn’t trust either one of them to be within ten feet of a knife. That left Anne, Micky, June and Davy to entertain themselves in the living room.
“What the hell is that?” Anne pointed to a life-size doll propped up on the couch.
“That’s our dummy.” Micky explained. “He cheats at cards.”
“Hmm…maybe you ought to hide it before Gwen sees it and decides she wants one too.”
“Yeah, we got enough on our hands with her imaginary gumshoe guy, Mr. Chinchilla.” June added.
“He is not imaginary.” Gwen protested from the kitchen.
“Is too!” Anne shot back.
“Is not!”
“Is too!
“Is not, Ms. Jane-is-the-person-that-lives-in-my-head.”
“Jane’s better than an alter-ego waffle bar.”
“That’s your sister’s thing, Anne.”
“Oh yeah.”
“God, you guys are even more bizarre than us.” Mike groaned, covering his face with his hand.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Micky quipped.
“Yeah, and that’s a bad thing?” Gwen echoed, then folded her arms and looked up at the tall man.
“Well…” He sighed. “We’re having chicken for dinner. C’mon.” he turned around and headed back to the kitchen. Gwen watched him leave, her eyes trailing up and down his body in very much the same way Davy had done to Anne. Ho-oey! What a great ass! And that led too much more kinky thoughts as she followed him in and sat down at the table.
They all situated themselves accordingly; Gwen next to Mike at the head of the table, June at her other side; Micky between June and Anne; Davy plopped down across from Anne and Peter sat at the other end of the table. It wasn’t hard to tell who liked whom.
Davy: I think I’m in love.
Anne: Davy is freakin’ hot.
Mike: Gwen sure is short. I wonder if that’ll make kissing hard to do?
Gwen: Mike is reallllly tall, I wonder if that’ll make the sex more difficult?
Micky: June doesn’t seem my type.
June: Micky is cute. Peter is good-looking. Davy is a midget. Mike is a beanpole. If two people have really big noses, would that make it hard to kiss?
Peter: Gwen seems to like Mike. Hey, like Mike. That rhymes! Like, Mike, sike, bike, pike…wait a minute, is sike a word?
(Can’t you just sense the tingly sexual tension? Almost like a Dawson’s Creek episode.)
“So, what do ya guys do?” Anne broke the silence that had come from everyone being deep in his or her thoughts.
“We’re a band. The Monkees.” Mike answered smoothly.
“The Monkeys?”
“Monkees. Spelt m-o-n-k-e-e-s.”
“Isn’t that the normal way of spelling it?” Gwen broke in, confused.
“You did not just say that.” Anne answered flatly.
“My sentiments exactly.” Mike shoved back his chair and stood up. “Does anyone want something to drink? We got milk, kool-aid, Coke-“
“Coke.” Anne, June and Gwen answered simultaneously.
“Alright then. Coke it is.” Gwen watched him walk out, a hypnotized smile creeping up on her face. June noticed and elbowed her in the side.
“Ouch.” Gwen whined.
“Do you have to be so obvious?” June whispered back.
“Why not be?” She hissed in response.
“Yeah, we all know Mike’s got a cute ass.” Micky whispered to them non-chalantly.
“Still, she doesn’t have to-wait a minute…” June broke out into a hysterical laughing fit, causing Gwen to laugh too.
“Oh no, once they start, they can’t stop.” Anne groaned, which caused the other two girls to break into fresh gales of laughter. She began to giggle too, and then Peter, Micky and Davy…soon they were all off their chairs, rolling around in hysterical peals of laughter.
“What the heck is so funny?” Mike came back, an annoyed expression on his face.
“It’s-you-you have a-a-cute-“ Micky tried to explain and couldn’t because he was laughing so hard.
“A cute what?” His cheeks started to flush.
“You don’t wanna know, man.” Davy warned, giggling hard.
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t.”
“You have a cute ass, alright!” Gwen spat out at last, wiping her eyes.
“Oh. Yeah. Umm.” Mike mumbled, now as red as a tomato. “Hey, you guys wanna hear us play?”
“Yeah!” June said enthusiastically. Anne and Gwen nodded, and as soon as the laughter had died off the boys set up in their positions-Micky at the drums, Mike at lead guitar, Peter at bass and Davy with his tambourine and maracas.
“That’s all you do?” Anne asked Davy.
“I sing too. I don’t need to do much, I just gotta stand here and look cute.”
“Oh. Hmm.” She smirked and plopped down on the sofa.
The guys gathered around each other to decide on what to play as the girls fooled around with the dummy sitting on the chair.
“Let’s play ‘Tapioca Tundra.’” Mike suggested, tuning his guitar.
“No, no…how about ‘Randy Scouse Git?’” Micky looked at June, who was coincidentally wearing a yellow dress.
“Guys, let’s do ‘Daydream Believer.’” Davy pleaded.
“I’m sick of that song.”
“Shut up, Micky.”
“Well, I am.”
“It is rather bubble-gummy, Dave.”
“Who cares, Mike?”
“Guys, guys!” Peter broke in. “I know you all want to play the songs that show off your own personal talent-that’s pretty obvious-but let’s not fight about it, okay?”
“When are we gonna hear you guys?” Gwen whined (yet again)from the couch.
“Sometime before the year 2000, I hope.” Anne snapped.
“We’re ready!” Peter called out. “’Zor and Zam.’” He quickly whispered to the others, than proceeded to count off. Micky began to sing:
Out went the call to one and to all
That echoed and rolled like the thunder.
Trumpets and drums, roar upon roar
More upon more.
Rolling the call of ‘Come now to war.’
Throughout the night they fashioned their might
With right on the side of the mighty.
They puzzled their minds plan upon plan
Man upon man
And at dying of dawn the great war began.
They met on the battlefield banner in hand.
They looked out across the vacant land.
And they counted the missing, one upon one,
None upon none.
The war it was over before it begun.
Two little kings playing a game.
They gave a war and nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.”
“Hey, that was really good!” Gwen clapped and whistled.
“You have a nice voice, Micky.” June complimented the lead singer.
“Thanks!” He grinned.
“Eh, it was okay.” Anne commented unenthusiastically.
“I knew we should’ve done ‘Daydream Believer.’” Davy grumbled.
“What do you mean, it was ‘okay’?” Mike glared at the blonde girl, putting his hands on his hips angrily.
“I mean just what said, it was okay. C’mon, you know you guys aren’t the Beatles or anything-“ She gave a short laugh, but stopped pretty abruptly as she noticed all the guys were looking ticked off. She pressed her lips together and frowned, giving off her “I-am-now-extremely-annoyed” look. “I’m being honest. How are you ever going to expect to be any good if you can’t accept criticism, huh?”
“Whatever you say, Mary-Mary-Quite-Contrary.” Mike snarled, then threw down his guitar and stalked up the stairs.
“Now look what you’ve done?” June hissed, completely horrified at what her friend had just caused.
“What!? I’m sorry if he can’t handle the truth-“
“You can’t handle the truth!” Gwen shouted, quoting some movie. The others stared at her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She grinned sheepishly, and then leaped up the stairs where Mike had disappeared too.
“Okay, I’m leaving. See you, guys. Thanks for dinner. And I mean it, you guys are okay. I can see you making it someday, with lots more practice.” Anne grabbed her coat and let herself out.
“Um, I’m going with her.” Davy followed her.