By: Larrysgirl and Mickys411 Rated G

"Are you sure this is the right place, Mike?" Micky asked for the fiftieth time.
Mike looked at the piece of paper in his hand and at the brass numbers on the door of the house for the one-hundredth time.
"Yeah, this is it. 169 Turpentine Drive."
The Monkees were standing on the front porch of a decrepit old house. They had been hired a week ago by a Mrs. Smith to play at her Halloween party. Turpentine Drive was well known to the group as a place for old houses. It had been a beautiful area at one time, but the original owners had died and many of the houses had gone into disrepair by the new owners, either unable or unwilling to do the work to upkeep such large places. The house whose front porch the Monkees were standing on was no different. It was a three-story wooden house with many windows, several of them only half-shuttered, and badly needing a paint job.
Usually, the Monkees stayed away from the area, but Mrs. Smith offered them good money and as usual the rent was overdue. So, they packed up their instruments and drove over to the house. Now, they stood in a tight group looking around fearfully.
"I thought England had the monopoly on old, spooky houses." Davy remarked.
"Well, I guess we should knock." Mike said finally. He reached over and tried to pick up the large brass knocker on the front door. It was very heavy, and Mike couldn’t budge it, even with two hands. Suddenly, his hands slipped and he ended up hitting Micky across the chin. He stumbled backwards, almost knocking Davy and Peter over.
"I'm sorry, Mick." Mike said, "You Ok?"
"Yeah, but tell you what. Try the doorbell." Micky replied.
"Let's not and say we did." Peter said quickly.
"Yeah, nobody home, let's go!" Davy agreed.
"Wait!" Mike commanded. "We need this gig. Are we men or are we Monkees?"
Micky, Peter and Davy began to imitate monkeys, making screeching noises, walking bent over and pretending to pick bugs out of each other's hair.
Mike just rolled his eyes and pressed the doorbell. From inside he could hear the sound of a loud foghorn.
"I hope they don't answer, this place gives me the creeps." Micky said quietly.
But, the large oak door slowly, very slowly, began to creak open. Standing in the opening was a man who looked to be about one hundred years old. He had gray hair and wore a blue cardigan sweater. The Monkees took a step back.
"May I help you?" The man croaked.
"Yes, is this the Smith residence?" Mike squeaked.
"Yes, who are you?" Mr. Smith asked.
"We're the chickens, I mean the Monkees." Mike replied, "Your wife hired us to play for your Halloween party."
"I don't recall my wife hiring anybody." Mr. Smith said slowly, "But please come in."
The Monkees looked at each other, then picked up their instruments and went into the house. They were in the front foyer where there was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was dark inside, and there didn't seem to be any evidence of a party going on.
"If there's a party, it's a quiet one." Davy whispered to the others.
"Let me get my wife, gentlemen." Mr. Smith continued, "Please wait here."
"Sure, no problem, Mr. Smith." Micky said with a smile. As soon as Mr. Smith left the room Micky turned to the others.
"I don't know about you guys, but something’s wrong here. Like Davy said, there doesn't seem to be any party here."
"Doesn't look like there's been a party here for ages." Mike agreed.
"Let's split, fellas." Peter pleaded, "We must have had a Halloween prank played on us."
The others agreed, and headed towards the door. But just then a burst of wind slammed the door shut. Try as they might, the Monkees couldn't open the door again. Mike looked at his friends.
"Looks like we're gonna play here whether we like it or not."

A few moments later, Mr. Smith came back into the room, accompanied with an elderly woman.
"Boys, I like you to meet my wife," said Mr. Smith.
Mrs. Smith took a glace at the Monkees and spoke up to her husband.
"Harold, I don't believe I’ve ever seen these young men before.” she said.
"Its ok ma’am I think we're at the wrong house anyway," said Mike.
"Do you mind if we use your telephone to call the place we were supposed to be at?" asked Davy.
"Help yourself," said Mr. Smith.
"Thank you," said Micky, dialing the phone.
Meanwhile outside, a strike of lighting came out of nowhere, and it blew out a power line. Peter noticed a confused look on his band mate’s face.
"What's wrong?” He asked.
"That's strange,” said Micky, “The line’s dead, but there's not a storm outside."
"Maybe there's a problem with the line," said Davy.
"I guess that means we can't call the place," said Mike.
"I don't think we'll be able to go out anyway," said Peter.
"Why do you say that?"
"Look out the window."
Everyone looked out to see it was raining; it wasn't a heavy storm, but there was a good amount of rain.
"It looks like you gentlemen are going to stay here awhile,” said Mr. Smith, “Maryann, bring us some lemonade please.”
Mrs. Smith left the room, and came back minutes later with a tray.
"Help yourselves boys," said.
The Monkees thanked Harold and Maryann, and took the glasses off the tray. The guys drank the lemonade, but then made a face. Indeed the lemonade was quite sour, but the Monkees drank it anyway to be polite.
"That was quite...interesting," said Mike, clearing his throat.
"It does have a strong taste," said Davy, who still had a bit of a tight face on him.
"Tangy," said Micky, clutching his teeth.
"That was delicious," said Peter.
The guys looked at their friend as if he was nuts.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," said Maryann.

"By the way, what do you boys do for a living?" asked Harold.
"We're musicians," answered Mike.
"We love music," said Harold.
"That's groovy," said Peter.
"So, which one of you play the violin?” Asked Maryann.
The Monkees looked at one another.
"This is gonna be a long night," muttered Micky under his breath,
"You're telling me." Davy whispered back.
"Well, we don't play that kind of music, Mrs. Smith." Mike told her, "We're a rock and roll band."
"Rock and Roll?" Maryann asked, puzzled, then her face lit up. "Oh, you mean like Benny Goodman?"
The Monkees looked at each other again. Obviously, the Smiths hadn't listened to the radio in quite a while.
"No, like the Beatles." Peter replied.
"Like the who?" Harold asked.
"Not the Who, the Beatles." Davy answered.
It was now the Smiths turn to look at each other. Mike cleared his throat and stood up. The other three Monkees followed suit. They had to find the real house they were supposed to be playing at.
"Um, thank you both for the lemonade, but we must be going."
"Must you go?" Maryann asked sadly. "We don't get much company and our children live far away."
Micky nodded his head. "I'm sorry, but we've been hired to play at a Halloween party, and we can't be late."
The Monkees walked back over to the front door. They felt sorry for the lonely old couple, but they had a obligation to take care of first. This time, all four of them pulled on the door and it finally creaked open. How Harold managed to open it by himself was a mystery to them.
Opening the door wide enough to walk through, the Monkees looked outside. The rain began to fall even harder, and the wind was picking up too. Suddenly, a loose bed sheet sailed across the front porch and the Monkees thought it was a ghost! The four musicians screamed and slammed the door and turned around...then screamed again because Harold and Maryann were standing right in front of them. They leaned against the door and slid down to the floor.
"You boys sure like to scream." Harold admonished them.
"Why don't you youngsters stay the night?" Maryann asked. "It's too bad to go out, and we have plenty of room."
"St..st..stay here?" Peter asked.
"Either that or face that ghost outside, mate." Davy told him.
Just then there was a huge crack of thunder that shook the old house to its foundations.
Micky gave the Smiths a wide smile.
"Sure, we'd be glad to stay!"

Harold led the Monkees upstairs to where the extra rooms were, while Maryann fetched some fresh sheets for the beds.
"When our kids come to visit, they stay in this room, and the grandkids have the other one," said Harold.
"It must be a big family," said Davy.
"Oh yes, our son James comes at Christmas time with his wife and three kids, and our daughter Tina comes during the summer with her husband and three kids."
"I'm sure you miss them a lot," said Peter.
"Yes, but we old folks like our peace and quiet," said Maryann, coming in the room holding the sheets and a tray.
"This is a groovy room," said Micky.
"I'm glad you like it. Here I bought you boys something."
Maryann handed the guys a plate of cookies.
"I hope you like oatmeal."
"My favorite," said Mike.
That made Maryann and Harold smile.
The Monkees each took one cookie off the tray, and ate them. After biting into them, the guys once again made some faces.
"I think the raisins are a bit ripe, but pretty good," said Mike.
"Those aren't raisins," said Maryann.
"What are they?" asked Davy.
"Prunes," answered Harold.
With that response the guys swallowed the cookies.
"Whoa, that's a cookie," said Micky, shaking his head.
"That was tasty, is there a recipe for these? asked Peter, who was the only one to finish his cookie, while the others put theirs down.
"I'm glad you enjoyed them," said Maryann.
Harold yawned with a stretch and said, "I think I'll turn in now."
"Me too dear. You boys have a good night."
"We will, and thank you Maryann, Harold," said Mike.

Micky and Mike stayed in the room they were in and Davy and Peter went across the hall. Before Davy and Peter left though, Mike called everyone into a huddle.
"Now everybody be careful." Mike told them quietly, "There's been some spooky things going on, so keep an eye open."
"How can we sleep with an eye open?" Peter asked Mike.
"Just an expression, Pete." Mike replied.
"I'll be keeping both eyes open tonight." Micky said, glancing around. "What a place."
"We'll let you know if something happens, Mike." Davy said. "Goodnight mates."
"Goodnight, Davy. Goodnight, Peter." Mike said.
"Goodnight, Micky, Goodnight, Mike." Peter said.
"Goodnight, Peter." Mike and Micky said together.
"Goodnight, Davy." Peter said.
Davy just rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Peter."
"Why won't you say goodnight to me?" Peter whined.
"We haven't gone to sleep yet, that's why." Davy replied as he and Peter left the room.
"Don't forget now." Peter said.
"Yes, Peter."
Mike and Micky chuckled to themselves as their friends left the room. How Davy was able to share a bedroom with him at the pad was a mystery. The two Monkees gingerly sat on the bed. To their surprise, it was pretty soft, though a bit cold.
"Why don't you lock the door, Mick, while I put these sheets Maryann gave us on the bed?" Mike asked.
"Gladly." Micky replied. He got up and locked the latch, then helped Mike spread the sheets across the bed.
Suddenly, the two heard a banging noise from outside. They went to the window and saw a shutter on a window down below banging against the side of the house. The wind was still blowing very bad. They turned around....and screamed as they saw Maryann standing in front of them.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Maryann exclaimed, "I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me. I just wanted to see if you needed anything else."
"How about a heart transplant?" Micky muttered under his breath. Mike nudged him in the stomach.
"What was that?" Maryann asked.
"We're fine, Maryann." Micky replied.
"Are you sure?" Maryann insisted, "More cookies, coffee?"
"No thank you." Mike smiled.
Maryann turned to walk away, then abruptly turned back to the two Monkees.
"Ovaltine?"
"No. Thank. You." Micky and Mike said slowly.
Finally running out of things to ask, Maryann bade them goodnight and left the room.
After waiting to make sure she didn't come back, Mike turned to Micky.
"I thought you said you locked that door." Mike demanded.
"I did!" Micky exclaimed. "Maybe she had a key."
Mike exhaled a deep breath. He went back over to the door and locked it again, then went back over to Micky.
"I'm just gonna wash my face, then I'm going to bed."
"Ok, Mike." Micky replied as he sat down on the bed and took his shoes off. "I don't think I'll be able to do any sleeping tonight, though."
Mike shrugged and went into the little bathroom and washed his face. He was drying his face with a towel, when he heard what sounded like a train driving through the room. Mike raced back to the bedroom.....and found Micky already under the covers, sawing logs. He gave a rueful chuckle.
"Don't think you'll sleep tonight, Mick?" He said to himself. "I'm lucky I'LL be able to sleep with all your snoring."
Still, he took off his shoes and belt, turned out the light and went to sleep as well.

Across the hall, Davy and Peter were trying to go to sleep as well. However, things weren't going too well.
Peter refused to relax until he had examined every single square inch of the room. He looked under the bed, the chair, the desk and behind the curtains before he was satisfied there weren't any ghosts ready to come out and grab him. Davy just sat on the bed, glaring at his band mate.
"Will you come on, already?" Davy demanded. "It's getting late and I'm tired."
"Better safe than sorry." Peter told him as he examined the nightstand. "No ghost is gonna grab me."
"Why would he want to?" Davy muttered under his breath, "You'd just drive him balmy."
Peter finally completed his inspection of the room and declared it ghost-free. Davy breathed a sigh of relief.
"That really nice, Peter, now let's get some sleep."
The two put the fresh sheets that Maryann had given them onto the bed and settled down for sleep. Davy shut off the light. After a few minutes, Peter tapped Davy on the arm.
"Davy?"
"What, Peter?"
"You didn't say goodnight to me."
"Oh, right. Goodnight, Peter."
"Goodnight, Davy."
After a few more minutes, Peter tapped Davy on the arm once again.
"Davy?"
"What Peter?"
"I can't sleep."
"Try counting sheep."
"I did, but they jump over the fence too fast for me."
It was times like these Davy seriously wondered why he left England in the first place.

Time passed, and the four Monkees finally went to sleep. Micky was snoring so loud, Mike had to put his wool cap down over his ears to muffle the sound so he could sleep. After awhile, Micky finally stopped and it was quiet in the room.
Mike was then awakened by a slight noise. It sounded like something was moving in the room. Opening his eyes slightly, he looked around the room for the source. Nothing could be seen in the gloom. Mike wrote it off as his imagination, and thought no more of it. A little while later, Micky woke up when he felt something bump against the bed. A quick look around from the bed revealed nothing to him. He shrugged and settled back to sleep....until he felt something soft tickling his nose. He brushed his nose with his hand. A few seconds later, the same thing happened. Without opening his eyes, he said to Mike:
"Mike, quit tickling my nose!"
"I'm not tickling your nose, Micky, you're tickling mine!" Mike retorted.
"How could we both be tickling each other..." Micky's voice trailed off slowly.
Both Micky and Mike very slowly opened their eyes...and saw a pair of cat's eyes staring back at them from only a few feet away.
"AHHHH!!!" Micky and Mike screamed and rolled off the sides of the bed.
The two terrified Monkees ran to the door and Mike managed to unlock and throw open the door....and screamed along with Micky at seeing Davy at the door. He screamed too and began to run back to his room.
"Wait, wait, it's Mike and Micky!" Mike managed to yell.
The three Monkees gave all hugged each other and waited until they caught their breathes before speaking.
"I *pant* wonder if you could get *pant* a heart attack *pant* at twenty-two." Davy panted.
"What's all the fuss?" Harold said as he and Maryann walked down the hall towards them.
"There's a creature in our room with big eyes and fangs and he was sitting on our bed ready to eat us!" Micky exclaimed.
Harold and Maryann gave each other a puzzled look and went inside the bedroom and over to the bed. Harold pulled back the bedcovers.....and found a black and white cat sitting there, licking its paws.
"Meow." The cat went, looking annoyed at being interrupted at its grooming.
Maryann giggled. "You were frightened by Patches?"
"Patches is a friendly little tabby. Wouldn't hurt a fly." Harold continued, "He probably just came over to your bed to say hello."
"Hi...Patches." Mike said, very embarrassed.
"Yeah, hi, Patches." Micky said, wishing he could melt into the floor, he was so embarrassed.
Maryann picked Patches up and he and her husband left the room. The laughter Davy had been barely controlling now came out in a burst.
"HAHAHA! You were afraid of a little cat?" Davy laughed. "Oh, that's rich! HAHAHA!"
Then Davy finally noticed the glares Mike and Micky were giving him and he slowly stopped laughing. They slowly started to walk towards him. Davy began to step backwards towards the door.
"I was just joking, mates. Y'know, haha?" Davy said, realizing he was in trouble. "Eep!" Davy squeaked and ran back to his room, Mike and Micky on his heels.
Davy threw himself onto the bed and tried to hide under the covers, but Micky and Mike grabbed him, held him down and started to tickle him!

“Laugh at us will you, midget?” Micky said evilly, tickling Davy’s ribs, “We’ll give you something to laugh about!”
"No, Please! HahahaHEEHAHAHAHO!" Davy laughed, "I'm ticklish, stop! You...you're gonna...hahaha...wake up Peter!! HAHAHAHA!"
Mike and Micky stopped tickling Davy and looked over to where Peter should've been sleeping. All they saw was an empty bed. Micky pulled back the bed covers further, but the bed was still empty!
"Where's Peter?" Micky asked Davy.
"He's not there?" Davy asked in reply.
"Maybe he's in the bathroom." Mike said as he got up and looked in the bathroom. It was empty.
A quick search of the room gave no sign of Peter. The three Monkees stood in the middle of the room and looked at each other. Finally they said, as one:
"HE'S GONE!"
"Where do you think Peter may be?" wondered Mike.
"Maybe he hid, after he heard you two screaming," said Davy with a slight laugh.
"You could be right, let's check the room out," said Micky.
The guys did just that. They searched under the beds, the closet and the bathroom that was attached to the room, but no sign of Peter.
"Come on Pete, stop goofing around," said Mike.
"You know, I don't think Peter is in the room," said Davy.
"Yeah, let's check out the rest of the house," said Micky.
The three Monkees crept out of the bedroom and began their search. They had to be quiet, so that they wouldn't wake up Harold and Maryann.
"Peter, Pete, where are you?" whispered Davy, Micky and Mike.
There was no response upstairs, so the guys checked downstairs.
Quietly, the three crept down the stairs, and continued to look for Peter.
Peter was not in the living room, nor the dining room. As they checked out the kitchen, they saw something shine behind a door.
"I wonder what that is," said Davy,
"Let's see then," said Mike.
He opened the door, and there was a bright light with stairs.
"I'll check to see if there's anything or anyone down there.” said Micky, “Hell-o!"
"Hell-o", said a voice.
The guys knew that voice right away.
"Peter!" cried Mike, Micky and Davy.
The three raced down the stairs, which turned out to be a basement. They saw Peter, sitting by a stack of books.
"Peter, where were you?" asked Davy.
"I came downstairs to get a drink of water, and I saw this door. So I came downstairs to see what's down here.” said Peter.
"Say, what are those things you're checking out?" asked Mike.
"I'm not sure, just some neat looking picture books."
Davy picked up on of the books, and looked through it.
"Say, these photo albums must be nearly 40 years old.” he said.
"You think they belong to Harold and Maryann?” asked Micky.
"I don't know, we can ask them in the morning,” said Mike.
Davy checked his watch and said, “Come on guys, it's getting late."
"Yeah, I'm tired myself," said Peter.
The guys collected some of the books and headed up the stairs.
Just then, Micky stopped suddenly.
"Ow!" he yelped.
"Shh!" went Davy.
"What's wrong?" asked Peter.
" I must have stepped on something sharp," said Micky,
Since Micky didn't have any shoes on, whatever he stepped on felt painful.
"Let me see," said Mike.
Micky lifted his foot carefully, and Mike checked to see what it was. It turned out to be a splinter.
"I'll take care of it upstairs," said Micky.
Since they turned that light off, the entire house became darker.
In fact, it was so dark, the guys couldn't see an object that zoomed passed them, causing the monkees to fall to the ground, with Davy at the bottom of the Monkee pile.
"Can you guys please get off of me?" asked Davy.
Just then, the guys saw some lights turned on and heard footsteps.

"Someone's coming!" Davy whispered to the other three.
"Maybe it's Harold and Maryann." Mike replied.
"No, those sounds are coming from another part of the house, let's split." Micky said, getting scared.
The Monkees quickly got up and headed into the kitchen, Micky painfully limping behind the others. Once in the kitchen, Mike found a small nightlight and turned it on. He told Micky to sit down, then he began to look for something to take the splinter out of Micky's foot. Davy kept watch at the kitchen door, while Peter helped Micky sit in a chair. Mike finally found a small sharp knife and walked over to Micky.
"I just want to take the splinter out, Mike, not cut my foot off!" Micky exclaimed, starting to get out of the chair.
"SHH!" Davy said, "Do you want someone to hear you?"
"Don't worry, Micky." Mike told him, "Let me do this. I've taken out splinters before."
Micky reluctantly sat down again and Peter held Micky's foot up, while Mike used the tip of the knife to pry the splinter out of Micky's foot. Micky closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair. He felt a small jab, then nothing else.
"You can open your eyes now, Mick." Mike said.
Micky opened his eyes to see Mike holding a small splinter in his hand. "You're done?" He asked.
"All done." Mike smiled. You'll need a little antiseptic on the cut, though, that's all."
"But will he live to play the drums again, Doctor?" Peter said melodramatically as he released Micky's foot.
"Yes, and he'll be able to run and play like all the other children." Mike replied.
"Thanks, Mike." Micky replied, standing up. "It does feel a lot better." He looked over at Davy, still keeping watch. "Anything Davy?"
"No, not a thing. I wonder what it was that knocked us down?"
"Couldn't be Patches, could it?" Micky asked.
"Patches?" Peter asked.
"The Smith's cat." Davy said, beginning to laugh, "You should've seen..."
Davy got no further because Mike had put his hand over his mouth. "Later, Davy." Mike told him. "Let's see what the light and footsteps were all about."
"I hope it's not ghosts." Micky said.
The others agreed. Davy picked up the books, while Mike put the knife in the sink (making a mental note to tell Maryann to sterilize it), then shut off the light to the kitchen. It became quite dark again, so the Monkees very quietly and slowly made their way back out of the kitchen.
They walked back into the parlor, where they heard more footsteps and saw a light coming from under the door leading to the foyer.
"What do you think it is?" Davy whispered to the others.
"I dunno, but it sounds like there's a lot of...whatever it is." Mike gulped.
Cautiously, the Monkees went over to the parlor door and Micky bent down and looked in the keyhole.
"See anything, Micky?" Peter asked.
"No, it looks like something is blocking the hole." Micky replied.
Suddenly, the parlor door swung open and the Monkees fell forward, with Micky ending up under the pile this time! They looked up....and saw Dracula staring down at them!
"What are you doing here?" Dracula demanded of them.
"We...we just leaving, sir!" Mike said very quickly as the Monkees picked themselves off the ground and ran in the other direction.
"STOP!" Dracula yelled, but the Monkees just ran faster.
They found a back door, but it was locked, and Dracula was still coming after them! Giving a scream, the Monkees ran into the dining room, where they saw none other than the Bride of Frankenstein standing there!
"Who are you?" She demanded.
"Just the Monkees!" Micky squeaked as the four terrified musicians raced for the front door.
But standing in front of the front door were the Wolf man, the Mummy and a witch! The Monkees were in such shock they could only stand there, eyes wide. Davy dropped the books of photos he had been holding. Dracula and the Bride of Frankenstein came up behind them. The Monkees were trapped! They came together and held each other close. Peter began to whimper.
"Please don't hurt us!" Peter cried.
"Yeah, we were just looking for the Halloween party we were supposed to play a gig for!" Mike stammered. "It supposed to be here at 169 Turpentine Drive, but there was no party!
"And it was storming, so the Smiths let us stay the night!" Davy finished.
"Yes, that's true, and we'd like to get some sleep!" Harold said and he and Maryann came into the foyer. They stopped short when they saw all the other people....then gave them all a big smile.
"James! Lee!" Maryann exclaimed, what a nice surprise!
"And our darling grandchildren, Vera, Chuck and Dave!" Harold said happily.
"Hi, Mom, Dad." James said, "We were in the area for a Halloween party and decided to pay you a surprise visit."
"But were surprised by these fellows." James' wife Lee said.
"Yes, these boys are the Monkees." Harold told her, then looked at the much-relieved quartet. "Did you say you were looking for 169 Turpentine Drive?"
"Yeah, that's right." Micky replied.
Harold went over to the front door and easily opened it once again. The storm outside had finally stopped. He looked at the brass numbers on the door and chuckled.
"Here's the problem boys." Harold said and reached over to the brass numbers and turned the middle '6' to a '9'. "This is really 199 Turpentine Drive. That middle number always seems to want to turn the other way somehow."
"It's just one of many things in this house that need fixing, but we can't afford it." Maryann said sadly.
The Monkees looked at each other, embarrassed for making such a mistake and sorry that the Smiths were so hard up. Harold closed the door again as Vera, dressed as the witch, pointed to the books on the floor.
"What's all that?" She asked.
"Oh, these." Peter said apologetically as he picked them up. "I wandered into the basement while looking for a drink of water and found these lodged under the steps. I'm sorry, I'll put them back."
"Wait, let me see those." Maryann said, taking a book from Peter. She opened a book up and looked at the photos.
"My word, I thought these pictures were lost!" She exclaimed. "These are priceless photos of my grandparents and great-grandparents! Thank you for finding them again!" She gave Peter a kiss on the cheek.
Harold opened up another book and between two pages fell out some papers. James picked them up and looked at them. After several seconds, he looked at his parents in shock.
"These are stock certificates!" He said, "From several oil, railroad and steel companies! Grandpa must've left these to you. You're rich!"
Harold and Maryann looked at each other, stunned.
"Oh, my." Maryann said quietly, then looked at the Monkees. "Thank you...thank you all. Because of you boys, we'll finally be able to get this house fixed up."
The Monkees just shrugged. "It was nothing, Maryann." Mike said with a smile.
"Come on, I'll make us all some lemonade and cookies to celebrate!" Maryann said to everybody.
But the Monkees, remembering the food she had given them before, politely declined.
"We gotta go over to the house we were supposed to be at, Harold and Maryann." Micky told them, "Maybe they'll still let us play."
"They might." Lee told him, "We had just come that house and the party was still going strong."
"One thing puzzles me, though." Davy asked. "Who or what knocked us down when we had just come upstairs?"
"That was us." Chuck, the one dressed as a wolf man told him.
"We always like to play tag in this house." Dave the mummy said, "We're sorry for knocking you down."
"That's ok, kids." Davy said with a smile.

So, the Monkees quickly went back upstairs, gathered up their stuff and came back down. They tried to open the front door, but once again it wouldn't budge. Chuckling, Harold opened the door for them with one hand.
"You just got to know how to do it." He told them.
"Thanks again, Harold and Maryann, for your hospitality." Mike said sincerely.
"You're welcome, boys." Maryann replied, "Always happy to help people out."
"Bye now!" Harold said, as his son, daughter-in-law and grandkids waved.
The Monkees waved back as they climbed into the Monkeemobile. Mike started the car and drove away.

The Monkees arrived very late at the party, but fortunately the Smiths were understanding and let them set up and play. The night was a great success.
Harold and Maryann Smith cashed in those old stock certificates and were able to make their house the nicest one on the block. They even had some left over to take a vacation to Hawaii, and after phoning the other Smiths at 169 Turpentine Drive they were able to locate the Monkees, and sent them a nice check to thank them for finding the certificates.


THE END

By: Mickys411 and Larrysgirl   Rated G

One rainy afternoon, The Monkees went to play some games at the bowling alley.
Although Davy got distracted by a blonde waitress a few times, he and Mike were winning against Peter and Micky.
"Hey, I got a strike!" said Micky.
"Great job, but unfortunately it was not in our lane," said Mike, looking up from the score board.
"Does it still count?"
"It does to those guys," said Davy, indicating a group of brawly looking guys, who did not look too happy.
Micky gave the men a sheepish smile as he retrieved his ball.

"What's the score so far?" asked Peter, who just threw another gutter ball.

"Well,” said Mike looking at the board again, “its Davy and I at 55 points the two of us combined, while you and Micky are at 33 points put together."
Mike and Davy each got two more strikes, before Micky got a spare.
"I think I'm getting the hang of it now," said Peter, who then threw the ball.
However, he forgot to let go of the ball, and shot down the lane, knocking down all the pins.
"Groovy Peter, you finally got a strike! That aught to put us ahead," said Micky.
"Not by much, since Peter went over the line, I gotta take two points off," said Mike.
"Never mind about the points, what about Peter.”
The three then raced down the lane to see how their friend was.
"Peter are you ok?" asked Mike.
"Just a bit dizzy, but I'll be fine,” said Peter, “Just one question."
"What is it?" asked Davy.
"Who are you?"
"You don't know who we are?" said Micky.
"I don't even know who I am," said Peter.
"Come on guys, we gotta do something," said Mike.
The three helped Peter up and took him to the alley clinic.
The alley doctor then checked Peter out.
"He's got a bit of a bump on his head, but he'll be fine," said the doctor checking out Peter's head.
"But he doesn't know who we are or who he is," said Davy.
"Don't worry temporary memory loss is common for minor head injuries. Just take him home for some rest."
"Thank you doctor, we'll do that," said Micky.
Just as the Monkees were leaving, the doctor stopped them.
"Before you go, I’ve got to remove that from his hand," said the doctor, indicating that the bowling ball was still stuck on Peter's hand. The doctor removed the ball from Peter's hand, and the guys left.
"Don't worry Peter, you're going to be fine," said Davy.
"Is that my name?" asked Peter.
"Yep, Peter H. Tork," said Micky.
"H?"
"Halsten," said Mike.
"I think I like that name much better than Peter.”
Mike, Davy and Micky became surprised; they knew Peter hated his middle name, because he said it sounded to high class.
"You know, I think something happened to Peter after that crash," said Davy.
The guys walked out of the bowling alley and over to their car, a red GTO which had the 'Monkees' logo written on the sides. Peter stopped and looked at the car in distaste.
"This is our car?" He asked.
"Yeah, this here is the good ol' Monkeemobile, Peter!" Micky said proudly.
"It looks like a circus clown's car." Peter snapped at him, "And my name is Halsten."
Micky looked at Peter in shock. Peter had never talked to him like that before.
"Uh, but it's the only way we have to get around, Pe, I mean Halsten." Micky stiffly told him.
Peter shrugged and got in the front passenger seat. The other three Monkees looked at each other, and then got in as well. The drive home was a quiet one, just Peter muttering about how dirty the car was. The other Monkees wondered how Peter would like the pad.
Mike pulled the Monkeemobile into the driveway and everybody got out. Peter looked the pad over. For once, he seemed impressed.
"Nice. Very nice." Peter said approvingly, then looked at the others. "Just needs a coat of paint."
The others just glared at Peter. They knew he had been hit on the head and wasn't himself, but they were getting tired of his high-handed remarks. They went inside the pad.
"Which is my bedroom?" Peter asked the others as he looked around.
"The bottom one, near the kitchen." Davy replied, "You share it with me."
"With you?" Peter asked.
Davy nodded. Peter rolled his eyes and walked into the bottom bedroom. Keeping his anger in check, Davy followed him.
"That's your bed, mate." Davy pointed to Peter's bed with the paisley bedspread.
"You're kidding!" Peter exclaimed, "I'll not be sleeping on a bed with a...a tablecloth for a bedspread!"
"You picked that bedspread out yourself, Peter!" Davy replied.
"Humph! I must have imbibed too much champagne...and my name is Halsten!" Peter shot back. He yanked the bedspread off his bed and lay down.
"Go out and get me a new one, my good man, and I want it to be red silk!" Peter told him. "Wake me when it is time for dinner!"
"Now you listen here!" Davy exclaimed, but Mike and Micky had been standing in the door listening to the whole conversation and now pulled him away from Peter's bed. The three Monkees went out into the living room.
"Let Peter alone, Davy." Mike told him. "The doc said he'll be ok after a short rest."
"Yeah, we'll all have something to laugh about later." Micky put in.
Davy hoped Mike and Micky were right, because he didn't know if he could live with Peter the way he was now.

While Peter rested, Mike, Davy and Micky went out to get the sheets.
"I can't believe we're doing this," said Davy, as the three wondered around the department store in the home and bedding section.
"Come on Davy,” said Mike, “We're doing this for Peter."
"Even after he yelled and insulted us?"
At that moment, Micky approached the two, holding red bed sheets.
"You got the right color Mick, but these are satin not silk," said Mike, examining the bed wear.
"Peter won't know."
"But Halsten will."
"Ok, but those silk ones are quiet pricey."
"You know, I just thought of something," said Davy.
"What's that?" asked Mike.
"If Peter's change of scenery and style has change, the same will go for his taste in food."

“Yeah, I doubt “Halsten” is a fan of Tai or organic,” said Micky, “Cuz that’s Peter’s favorites.”

“Or was his favorites."
"We better get something that will appeal to Halsten then," said Mike.
After paying for the silk sheets, which were on sale for a good price, the guys drove around to find a good place to buy food for Peter.
"Lobster?" suggested Davy, pointing to a seafood restaurant.
"Not after what we spent on the sheets." said Mike.
"How ‘bout this?" asked Micky, indicating a place called "Sushi Shack".
"Are you sure about that?"
"Come on, its fish and you like it too Davy."
"But not when it’s raw," said Davy.
"I guess we can give it a try," said Mike.
Mike went into the restaurant and picked up four orders of sushi meals.
"You mean we all have to eat it?" asked Mike.
"Come on Micky, its fish," Davy said with a laugh.
Micky then muttered something that sounded like shut up under his breath.
"Halsten, we're back," Mike called out, as the guys entered the pad.
Peter came out of the bedroom.
"How was your rest?" asked Davy.
"My bed felt too soft, so I slept on your bed Davy, or in this case, my bed now."
Although Davy was angered by that comment, he kept his cool, or at least tried to.
The four then sat down to sushi and tea that Mike got at the restaurant as well.
Although Micky, Davy and Mike tried to pretend to enjoy eating the sushi, only Peter seemed to be the one satisfied with it.
"Not bad, a bit too spicy but not bad," said Peter.
"Glad you like it, Halsten," said Micky, attempting to take another bite of his meal.
"I said it wasn't too bad not that I liked it."
Micky was about to strike Peter with a chopstick, but Mike stopped him.
Davy then thought of something.
"Say Halsten, how bout a game of checkers," he said.
"That's a kid's game, do we have a chess board?" asked Peter.
"No, just checkers."
"Very well it will have to do."
Mike then thought of something himself.
"How about we play some music?" Mike suggested.
"What kind of music do we play, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven?" asked Peter.
"Actually rock and pop," said Micky.
Peter then made a bitter looking face.
"Rock and pop?" Peter repeated, "You mean we play that electronic noise with incomprehensible lyrics?"
"Noise?!" Micky exclaimed, "Its groovy stuff, man! You play the bass our group!"
"Surely you jest!" Peter replied. "And my name is Halsten!"
"No, I'm not jesting and don't call me Shirley!" Micky replied with a smile, hoping an old joke might help spark Peter's memory. Mike and Davy laughed too.
Peter huffed. "Honestly, I can't believe I'm a bass player in a rock and pop group."
"Pick up that guitar, Pete..er Halsten, and see if you can remember any of our songs." Mike told him.
"Very well." Peter sighed and walked over to the bandstand. He put his guitar over his shoulder and strummed the strings.
"Remember anything, Halsten?" Davy asked Peter.
"No, I do not." Peter replied. "This guitar feels so awkward around me, I feel like I should be playing something more sophisticated."
"Like what?" Micky asked.
"Like a harp." Peter replied.
Taking a deep breath, Mike looked at the others.
"Let's play something for our friend Halsten, guys." He said. "Perhaps that will awaken his memory."
The others agreed and they quickly took their places. Peter simply stood there with a look of displeasure on his face.
"Ok, guys." Micky said. "Let's do the first song we ever played, 'The Last Train To Clarksville'.
Mike automatically looked at Peter to start off with the bass riff, but he just stood there, looking very bored. So, Mike started in, hoping Peter would join, but he didn't.
"Take the last train to Clarksville," Micky sang, "and I'll meet you at the station, you can be here by four-thirty, 'cause I've made your reservation, don't be slow."
"Oh no no no, oh no no no!" Mike and Davy joined in.
Peter shook his head. "Oh, no, no no!" He shouted, taking the guitar off his shoulder. "This will not do!"
The others stopped playing.
"What's wrong?" Davy asked.
"This can't be my life!" Peter told him angrily, "I don't belong here! This life of ugly cars and bedspreads and mediocre sushi and playing bass guitar in a rock band is not my life! I don't know what's happened to me, but I'm going to go back to where I really belong! Good day!"
With that, Peter marched out of the pad, leaving his three shocked friends behind.

It took Davy a few seconds, but he snapped out of being surprised, turned to his band mates and said, "Guys, what are we doing just standing here? We gotta get Peter back!"
He raced out the door, followed by Micky and Mike.
"Pete, er Halsten! Wait! Wait a minute!" Davy shouted to Peter, who was heading down the road.
Peter stopped, turned around and said, "Oh, it's you again. What do you want?"
Mike who caught up said, "Look Pe..Halsten, it's getting late, why don't you stay with us for the night?"
"You mean you want me to stay, after I was rude to you?" asked Peter.
"Yeah, and tomorrow we can help you," said Micky.
Peter thought for a few minutes, then spoke up.
"You gentlemen are quite generous, but you're still a bunch of weirdoes."
"You're welcome.” muttered Davy.

The next day, Mike, Micky and Davy went out early, while they let Peter rest for a while.
The three came back sometime later to find Peter, sitting at the kitchen table, wearing fancy type clothes, reading the paper and sipping tea.
"Hey Halsten, you get some new clothes?" asked Davy.
"The correct term is ‘did I get some new clothes’ and yes I did,” said Peter, “The ones I had were too..I how should I put this? Tasteless."
"Are you reading the comic page or the music section?" asked Mike, speaking in correct english, without getting mad.
"Scoff scoff, I reading the stock reports and currents," Peter answered back.
"Say Halsten, while we were out, we met someone whom you might remember," said Micky.
He opened the door and invited the guest in.
It was Peter's old girlfriend, Valerie Cartwright.
"Hell-o Peter," said Valerie in her pleasant sounding voice.
Peter just looked up, glared at her and said, "Who is this Peter you all keep talking about?
My name is Halsten."
"Peter, it's me Valerie. I'm sorry that things didn't turn out well for us, but I still want to be friends. How about we go for a walk in the park, the garden is full of fresh flowers."
"Ma'am, I don't go out with people who address me as Peter, it’s Halsten, and flowers make my allergies act up."
Valerie let out a sad sigh and said, “I better be going now, it was nice seeing you guys again."
Just as Valerie walked out the door, Davy, Micky and Mike caught up with her.
"We're sorry about the way Peter acting towards you," said Micky.
"He has every right to be mad at me," said Valerie.
"Oh, no Valerie, Peter still thinks of you, and he wants to be friends," said Mike.
The guys then explained to Valerie what happened to Peter at the bowling alley, and how the small accident changed his entire personality. Valerie sighed with relief, then thought of something.

"Wait a minute, you said Peter hit his head?” she asked, “I know this may sound crazy, but maybe if he hits himself on the head, maybe he can return to his normal self."
"You know, I think that’s just maybe crazy enough to work," said Davy.
The guys thanked Valerie for the idea, and they began to come up with ways to hit Peter on the head. Not that they wanted to do it, but if it was the only way to get Peter back to his old self, then they'll have to do it.
Micky saw an orange tree, and plucked one orange off.
"Micky, what are you doing?" asked Mike.
" I saw this on a show called "Ask Dr. Science," Micky answered.
"You're going to hit Peter with that orange?” asked Davy, “What was the show about? Memory loss?"
"Actually, it was about explaining gravity.”
The three crept into the pad, to see that Peter was where they left him.
"Follow me,” Micky whispered, as Mike and Davy followed him up the stairs.
"I hope this works," said Micky.
He then dropped the orange.
It didn't land on Peter's head, but in the palm of his hand.
"I didn't see that coming," said Davy, in a bit of shock.
"Got any more bright ideas?" asked Mike.
"I sure do," said Micky.
He then grabbed a bucket from the upstairs closet, filled it with water from the tub's faucet and headed to the bedroom. Mike and Davy went in to see what Micky was doing.
They saw their friend placing the bucket of water on the top of the bedroom door.
"This has to work,” said Micky, “I saw this on…"
"We know," said Mike.
"Ask Dr. Science," said Davy.
"No, Gilligan's Island,” said Micky finishing his sentence. He then cracked the door open and called downstairs to his friend.
"Halsten, do you think you can come up here? We have to ask you something."
Peter went up the stairs to the room, opened the door and the bucket moved.
However, it didn't land on Peter, but on Micky, who was standing behind the door. His shirt and hair were drenched.
"Really Micky, you know better then to go outside during a rainstorm without an umbrella,” said Peter, who then looked out the window, “The funny thing is, there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

Mike and Davy went outside the room so Peter and Micky wouldn't see them laughing. Davy almost fell down the hurricane steps, he was laughing so hard. Finally, the two Monkees settled down and went back into the bedroom. Micky was in the process of putting on a dry shirt, while Peter was still looking out the window. He turned to Mike and Davy as they came inside.
"There's one good thing about this place." Peter told them. "The view is spectacular! You can see out over miles of beach and ocean!"
"Yeah, that's a good point about it." Mike replied.
"Now, what did you want to ask me?" Peter said to Micky.
"Um...would you like to stay with us a while longer?" Micky said quickly. "We'd like to have someone of taste and culture like you with us."
"Well....you did get me the sheets....and the Earl Grey tea was excellent. I think I will live with you gentlemen for a little longer. But only until I can find out where I really live. Thank you."
The other Monkees smiled. Now that Peter agreed to stay, it would be easier for them to find a way to bring back his memory.

Over the next few days, The guys tried to help Peter get his memory back. They took him to some clubs, surfing, and some local rock concerts. Although Peter tried to enjoy it, he just couldn't enjoy it.
Peter also gave the others a taste of what he likes. Going to art shows, chamber music and organ recitals, and theater. Mike told Peter that he and the guys enjoyed it.
The truth was, they didn't.
In fact, Davy actually had to hit Micky on the back of the head during an opera, because he fell asleep and was beginning to snore.
One day while Peter went out to get some records, he refused to listen to music by The Beatles, Lovin' Spoonful, The Stones, Dylan, or any rock, pop, or folk music. Davy, Micky and Mike were sitting at the kitchen table talking.
"You know it's been almost a week since Halsten, I mean Peter hit his head, and he hasn't return to his old self," said Davy, who was now used to calling Peter by Halsten.
"I know,” said Micky, “If I have to listen to another opera, I'm gonna crack."
"I guess when the doctor told us that Peter's memory loss was temporary, I think he meant to tell us that it would last depending upon the person," said Mike.
"How long will that be?" asked Davy.
"In Peter's case, I’d say early spring."
Just then, Peter entered the pad.
"Hell-o gentlemen," he said.
"Hey Halsten," the three said.
"I got some wonderful news, we've been invited to a party at the country club."
Mike tried to be enthusiastic by the news, but Micky and Davy looked less than thrilled.
"When is this event?" asked Davy, trying to sound interested.
"Tonight at 7pm," said Peter.
"Say, Halsten how did you get invited?" asked Mike.
"I was at the record shop looking at the new symphony of Hugo Van Cole, and this person was so impressed by my taste that he gave me an invitation. Then I told him I have some friends who might be interested, so he gave me three more,” said Peter, “By the way, I want to make a good impression on these people so I think ties and suits will be appropriate for the event."
"I can hardly wait," muttered Micky.

That evening, the Monkees were prepared to go to the country club, but they were almost late for the event due to Peter debating whether or not to take the Monkeemobile.
He didn't want his new friends to see that he drives around in a clown type car, however he thought it would be tacky for them to walk, so it was better to go in the Monkeemobile than having no car, period.
In the car ride, Peter asked Mike to play another station on the radio besides rock, and Micky quietly told Davy that this whole suit and necktie deal was quite uncomfortable.
Davy agreed as well.
When they arrived at the club, The Monkees were greeted by a guard, who gave them a funny look, because it was weird for people wearing suits and ties driving a car of such a bright color, but he let them pass.
After getting out of the car, the guys approached the front entrance of the country club.
A person who was dressed a butler opened it to let the Monkees inside.
Just then, somebody called Peter.
"Halsten, so glad you can make it," said the voice.
The person approached Peter to greet him. When he did, only Mike, Micky and Davy knew who it was:
Rodney, Valerie's old boyfriend, who was the host of the event.
Rodney walked over to Peter and the others and stopped short when he got a good look at them. He folded his arms.
"Well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis Peter Tork." Rodney sneered, "And the Monkee boys."
"I beg your pardon!" Peter declared, "My name is Halsten Thorkelson and these are my friends, George Michael Dolenz the second, Michael Nesmith and David Jones."
"Oh, finally trying to get some class, eh?" Rodney laughed nastily. "At least you're not wearing that wool hat." He said to Mike.
"Rodney, there you are!" A female voice called out. It was none other than Valerie. She walked over "I see you've met Halsten and his friends."
"Yes, and I'm wondering how they were invited." Rodney replied.
"Richard invited them...Richard Rockefeller....He gave Halsten invites so he and his friends could come." Valerie replied slowly putting emphasis on the 'Rockefeller' name.
Hearing the Rockefeller name put Rodney out of sorts. He gave the Monkees a fake smile. "Well, if Rich wanted to invite them, then it's alright with me! Enjoy yourselves...gentlemen." Rodney nodded his head and left.
"What a cad." Peter remarked after Rodney was gone.
"Thanks, Valerie." Micky said.
"Yes, thank you my dear." Peter said, kissing Valerie's hand. "Your timing was impeccable."
"You're welcome, Halsten." Valerie replied. "Let's go inside."
Peter offered Valerie his arm. Smiling, she took it and let Peter escort her inside.
The place was already full of people dressed like they were, in long gowns and suits. Against one wall, a string quartet played Brahms. Along another wall, there was a long buffet table filled with every type of food imaginable. That's where Micky decided to go first, while Mike and Davy decided to mingle with the crowd. Peter looked at Valerie and the blue silk gown she wore.
"I'm sorry about how I acted last week, Valerie." Peter said, "I really wish I could remember how things were between us."
"That's ok, Halsten." Valerie replied, "I understand."
"Would you like to dance?" Peter asked.
"Yes, I would."
Peter led Valerie out onto the dance floor and began to slow dance with her. He could smell her perfume and thought he could remember it from somewhere, but just as quick, the memory faded. He looked at her.
"You look lovely tonight." He whispered.
Valerie responded by giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." She replied, smiling.
Standing against a side wall, Rodney watched as Peter and Valerie danced. He wasn't happy about the Monkees being here, invitations from Richard Rockefeller on not.

Rodney couldn't stand it anymore watching Peter and Valerie dancing, he had to do something. He then came up with a thought in his head, and a wicked smile appeared onto Rodney's face. He then approached the two.
"Say Halsten, do you mind if I call you that?" Rodney asked Peter.
"Not at all," said Peter.
"Anyway, I was wondering if we could just let bygones be bygones."
"If we did have a feud between us, I think I can learn to forgive and forget as well."
"Wonderful, after all Valerie broke up with you, due to the fact that she chose me as her suitor."
A shocked look appeared on Valerie's face. She actually dumped Rodney for Peter, but the two broke up after a terrible fight.
"Rodney! that's not true at all!" she said.
"Now, now Valerie, don't feel sorry for him, because he lost his memory."
Meanwhile, Mike was witnessing what was happening.
Just then, Micky came over as he was finishing up a glass of punch, to get the nasty taste of caviar out of his mouth.
"Uh oh, looks like Rodney is up to his old tricks again," he said.
"That's what it seems to be," said Mike.
Davy then joined the two; he had just danced with nearly every woman at the party, except for Valerie.
"What's going on?” asked Davy, “Is Rodney giving Peter trouble?"
"I'm going over there to check it out," said Mike.
"Wait a minute,” Micky said stopping him, “I have a plan."
Davy and Mike were a bit concerned; the last time Micky had a plan, they had to do repairs around Babbit's house for a month, but they listened to what he had to say.

Back at the center of the dance floor, things were getting tense between Valerie, Rodney and Peter.
"I think I've had enough,” said Rodney, taking Valerie by the arm, “Come on Valerie, we're leaving!"
Valerie pulled herself away from Rodney, and held on to Peter.
"No Rodney! I'm staying with Peter!" she said.
"Fine then!"
Rodney left in a huff. Just then, Mike, Davy and Micky approached him.
"You know Rodney, if you want to win Valerie back, you can always play Halsten in a game of chance," said Davy.
"Good thinking there Jonesy, why didn't I think of that?" said Rodney.
"I can think of a few good reasons,” said Micky, who earned a ‘careful what you say’ stare from Mike.
"What kind of game should I beat Tork in?” Said Rodney, “Cards, boat racing?"
"Actually we we're thinking of another type of game," said Mike.
"What's that?"
"Bowling."
"Are you out of your minds?"
"You do want to win Valerie back don’t you?" asked Micky.
"You may be right, I’ll bet Tork doesn't know a thing about bowling. You know, you Monkees aren't so bad, thanks for the tip."
Rodney’s wicked looking smile returned to his face, as he went back to Peter and Valerie.
"This is going to be great," said Davy with a laugh.
"Yeah, next to Rodney Peter will be a pro," said Micky.
"Wait a second fellas, we’ve got to see if Peter accepts the offer first," said Mike.

Rodney returned to Peter and Valerie with full confidence.
"Rodney, I told you I'm staying with Halsten," said Valerie.
"Please stand aside my dear, I have an offer to make with Halsten," said Rodney.
"What is it now Rodney?" Peter asked.
"I just want to apologize for what just happened, perhaps I was a tad over possessive."
"Not at all."
"What do you say we play a game of what do those common people call it, uh bowling."
"I don't know, that doesn't seem like my cup of tea."
"It doesn't hurt to try something new."
Peter thought for a minute, but accepted Rodney's offer.
Mike, Micky and Davy, who were watching was going from a few feet away were glad.
Looks like the plan was going to work. After making the deal with Peter, Rodney headed up to the bandstand to make an announcement.
"Everybody, if I can have your attention," he said.
At that moment, the band stopped playing, the guests stopped dancing and talking, and turned their attention to Rodney.
"I have something to tell you all, I have just made a bet with Halsten to a game of bowling."
The crowd looked at Rodney, then at one another and began to laugh.
"Bowling, what a commoner’s game," said one woman.
"Rodney my boy, you've flipped your mind," said her husband.
"No, I'm serious!" said Rodney, who was getting angry.
Just then, Peter spoke up.
"It's true, Rodney challenged me to the game," he said.
"See, I told you I wasn't lying! In fact, Halsten, I'll challenge you right now! To the bowling place!"
And with that, Peter and Rodney left the party.
"Halsten and Rodney bowling? This I got to see," said one person.
Soon, everyone else left the country club to see the big game at the bowling alley, leaving only Valerie, Davy, Micky and Mike standing in the middle of the ballroom.
"Hey, why are we standing around, we have to cheer Halsten, I mean Peter on," said Davy.
"I sure hope we get there on time," said Valerie.
"Don't worry, we will," said Mike.
The guys offered Valerie a ride in the Monkeemobile, but she told them she’d rather get there by a sports car than a limo. And the four took off

Meanwhile at the bowling alley, everyone came to see Peter verses Rodney in the big game.
"What is this, a costume ball?" asked the manager of the alley.
"No sir, it's a game,” said Rodney who then handed the manager a 20 dollar bill, “Now be a good man, and fetch me a gin and water."
"We ain't got gin, but we do have water."
"Fine, plain sparkling water then."
"Would you like a fresh lemon in it?"
Rodney can tell that the manager was being sarcastic, but turned to Peter.
"You ready Halsten?" he asked.
"Ready," Peter answered, as the two shook hands.
At that moment, Valerie, and the Monkees arrived at the bowling alley, just as the game was ready to start.
"Valerie, so glad you've come," said Rodney.
"Can it Rodney, I'm here for Halsten," said Valerie.
Rodney turned to the Monkees, who were trying not to laugh at what Valerie just told him.
A few second later, the game started.
"Mind if I go first Halsten?" asked Rodney.
"Be my guest," said Peter.
"This is gonna be great," said Micky.
"I'm sure Rodney is just as bad a player as Peter," said Mike.
"Maybe worse," said Davy.
Rodney threw his ball down the lane, and to everyone's amazement, he got a strike, even though he lightly pushed the ball. In fact, it was more of throw then a push. The crowd cheered Rodney.
"That was unbelievable," said Davy.
"I've never seen anything like that except on the Flintstones," said Micky.
"Are you sure Rodney’s never played this game before?” Mike asked Valerie.
"No, but I think he picked it up from being a pro shuffle board player," Valerie said.
Valerie and the guys watched as the crowd cheered Rodney, who had picked up a spare from the extra turn he got from the strike.
"Your turn Halsten," said Rodney to Peter.
Peter then picked up his ball, and threw it. Unfortunately, the ball got stuck on his hand again, and he slid down the lane, crashing into the pins, just like last time. The crowd gasped, while the Monkees and Valerie raced down the lane.
"Halsten, you ok?" asked Micky.
"What's going on?" Peter asked.
"Well, Halsten…” said Mike.
"Guys it's me Peter, Halsten is just my middle name."
The Monkees looked at one another in amazement.
"You mean, you know who you are?" asked Davy.
"Of course it's me Davy, don't be silly," said Peter.
Smiles appeared on the Monkees faces.
"Looks like we got the old Peter back," said Mike.
"What are you guys talking about?" asked Peter.
"It's a long story," said Davy.
Peter then dusted himself off, when he noticed his clothes.
"When did I get this ugly suit?" he asked, as the guys laughed.
Peter then noticed Valerie.
"Hi Valerie. It's groovy to see you again."
"You too, Peter," said Valerie.
Just then, Rodney came over to the scene.
"Well now Valerie, seeing that your Halsten is back to plain old Peter, perhaps you rather spend your time with me," he said.
"No Rodney, in fact I was just going to ask Peter if he like to see a movie with me tomorrow night," said Valerie.
"I love to," said Peter, with a big smile.
"Very well, be that way then," Rodney huffed.
He then went back to the crowd, who’d lost interest of what was going on and left the alley, as did Valerie and the Monkees, leaving Rodney alone.
"Here's that sparkling water you wanted sir," said the manager, handing a glass to Rodney.
Rodney took the glass and began to drink it. He spit it out, after finding out his sparkling water was really soapy water in a glass.

That night, Peter threw out the classical albums and the red silk sheets, replacing them with his hippie designed ones.
"You know Peter, I'm glad you're back," said Davy.
"Where did I go?” asked Peter.
"He's back alright," said Mike.
"I can't believe I really acted like the way I did."
"Believe it," said Micky.
He then tripped over the items Peter was throwing out and landed flat on the floor.
"Micky, you ok there buddy?" Mike asked, helping his friend up.
"Micky? Who is Micky?" Micky asked.
"Here we go again," sighed Davy.
A big smile appeared across Micky's face and said, "Gotcha," with a big laugh.
Peter, Mike and Peter then tackled him on the floor forming a Monkee pile, which meant everything was back to just the way it was.

The End