Ok....I KNOW this story makes all the Monkees 'cept Peter look like torture-happy smart-asses....and
I APOLOGIZE for that! I love the other guys too, so DON'T take offense! But HEY, my Micky [note: Kokani doesn't understand what *my* means. She meant *Daisy's* Micky] had
VERY good reason for his actions.....read on..... : )
It was dinner time at the old beach house, and Micky, Davy and Mike were sitting at the table waiting for
Peter, who was cooking spaghetti. Eating spaghetti was their favorite activity in the whole world (Well,
ok, second favorite, the first being beating the crap out of each other). They were getting very impatient.
"Hey, Peter, is it ready yet?" Micky hollered.
"Patience, please, it'll be done soon!"
They waited, very patiently, for 3 whole seconds.
"Peter, just bring the damn food already!!!" Mike screamed.
"Alright, I'm coming!"
As Peter approached the table, he sneezed very audibly.
"Aw, Peter, you didn't spray the pasta, did you?" Davy complained.
"Don't worry, I've had all my shots!" Peter happily answered.
"Oh, ok then."
Peter placed a plate of spaghetti in front of each Monkee and sat down. They all began eating except for
Micky, who stared at his plate for several seconds. Using his fingers, he searched under each and every
noodle on his plate, then looked up at Peter.
"Hey, Pete! Where's mine?" (Poor Micky)
"Where's your what?" Peter innocently asked.
"My meatball, doofus." Micky snapped, and flung a noodle at Peter. It landed on Peter's head and
imbedded itself in his scalp, where it remained forever (To this day, Peter is still scratching out the rotted
remains of the noodle, believing it to be mere dandruff).
"I don't know, Micky. I put one on each plate." Peter was confused. He looked at his plate, then Mike's,
then Davy's, then Micky's, then his own again. He could not figure out what had happened, of course,
being Peter.
"Oh, it's alright, Micky, you'll get one another time." Davy said. Micky suddenly kicked his chair back,
leaped onto the table and hollered, quite loudly, at Davy. Mike nearly choked on his spaghetti. Peter just
stared. It was all he could do.
"It's NOT alright!!! This is SPAGHETTI!!! There's SUPPOSED to be a meatball! Spaghetti and
meatballs go together like body odor and armpits!! You CAN'T have one without the other!!!!" (Yeah,
Micky!) There was a long pause as they all stared at Micky, clearly surprised by his outburst.
Peter finally added, very hesitantly, "Well.................you can. My ears smell."
If looks could kill, the glare that Micky had given Peter at that moment would have blasted all of Peter's
body parts, including his smelly ears, into separate directions and off into oblivion, where they wouldn't be
found again for at least 3 million years. Now, at this time, Mike was really starting to get pissed off.
"Micky, get down here, shut up, and EAT YOUR DINNER!!! I'm really starting to get pissed off!!!!"
"Yeah, Micky," Davy added, "A meatball is no big deal."
Peter sat there, quietly poking at his dinner, deciding it's safer to keep silent. Micky hopped off the table,
landing on Davy's outstretched foot, and pointed at Davy's meatball. (Go for it, Micky!)
"GIVE ME YOURS THEN!!!!"
"Oooow. NO! Why should I??"
"YOU ALWAYS GET YOUR WAY, THAT'S WHY!!!"
"Of course I do, Micky, and rightfully so. I'm the cute one."
Micky was completely aghast at Davy's remark.
"You SMARTASS! I'M the cute one!!!" He grabbed a handful of Davy's spaghetti and rubbed it into
Davy's face. "YOU'RE the SHORT one!!!" (That's tellin' him!)
Now Mike decided that he had to step in here.
"Now wait just a damn minute! I have to step in here! Micky, you're the clown, Davy's the short one,
Peter's the dummy, and I'M the cute one!!!!"
Peter hid under the table. It was all he could think of. Micky grabbed a large handful of Mike's spaghetti
and rubbed it quite brutally into Mike's face.
"Oh, so you think you're such a stud, huh, Mike? Let's see how good you look NOW, huh??" (It's far too
gruesome to describe Mike's appearance immediately after, but I'll tell you this....Micky's attack was so
brutal that Mike was blowing sauce from his nose for a month, but hey, he had it coming!) Davy snuck
up, very sneakily, behind Micky and poured, very sneakily, a large glass of milk over Micky's head,
completely flattening his curls. Micky was infuriated.
"Why, you little...." He proceeded to chase Davy around the table, trampling over Mike, who lay
helplessly on the floor after the brutal attack, moaning.
"HEY!!!" Peter suddenly exclaimed from under the table. Micky ignored him and continued to chase
Davy, who spun on Mike's head and shouted "Ole!" everytime he passed over him.
"HEY, MICKY, I'VE FOUND IT!!!!"
Micky stopped dead in his tracks. Davy came around and smacked right into Micky's back, knocking the
poor guy right onto Mike. His shirt was ruined by the sauce on Mike's badly spaghettied head.
"You HAVE???" Micky exclaimed, getting up and squeezing the excess sauce from his shirt onto Mike.
Peter emerged from under the table, proudly holding the dusty, hair-covered meatball. Micky was shocked
more than words could ever, ever express.
"Now, why would it go under there?" Micky wondered out loud. Davy stared in amazement. Mike just
laid there on the floor. Peter grinned from ear to smelly ear.
"It must have been in love with those very pretty shoes, of yours, Mick! What else could it be?" Peter
then sneezed from the mountain of dust that had accumulated under the table over the past 1000 years it
had sat there. The "On Top Of Spaghetti" song suddenly entered Micky's head, and he recalled Peter's
sneeze as he brought the plates. A bright light snapped on in Micky's mind. (Eureka, I think he's GOT it!)
"PETER! Damn you, just wait'll I get you...." Micky proceeded to chase after Peter, and Mike somehow
got to his feet and chased after Micky, and Davy chased after Mike, continuously shouting "Ole!". Dinner
was long forgotten as the Monkees once again partook in their favorite activity in the whole world:
beating the crap out of each other.
