By: Mickys411 and Lisa    Rated PG

It was just another day at the pad. Mike was playing his harmonica, Peter was losing a game of checkers to Micky and Davy was reading a magazine.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Mike placed his harmonica down and got up to answer.
When he opened the door, Mike saw a Western Union employee standing outside.
"Excuse me; I got a telegram for the Monkees.”
When Micky, Davy and Peter heard what it was, they joined Mike at the door.
"We got a telegram?" asked Micky.
"What does it say?" asked Peter.
"How should I know, I only deliver the telegrams I don't read them," said the messenger.
Mike paid the man and took the letter.
The guys gathered around the dining room/kitchen to read the telegram.
"Well, what does it say?" Davy asked.
Mike opened the letter and was surprised to see who sent the letter.
"Hey, it's from Ludlow.” he said.
"Groovy, we haven't heard from him in ages," said Micky.
"What does Ludlow have to write?" asked Peter.
"How's Wendy?" asked Davy.
Mike read the telegram,

“Dear Monkees: I hope all is well with you.
Wendy, Annabella Rose and I are doing fine. I am writing to invite you to a grand event celebrating the 400th anniversary of my family's legacy in Beruvia and we want you to play.
Also, we need your help.
There have been rumors flying around the palace that Count Myron has escape and could be around somewhere. I am more worried about the safety of my wife and daughter, but I am in a bit of fear for myself. Though I've been assured that Myron has been put away, there is maybe a possibility he is free.
Anyway, please RSVP
His Royal Highness, King Ludlow."
"Wow, do you really think Myron has escaped from prison?" asked Davy.
"I don't know, but we are definitely invited to a big event," said Mike.
"So, are we going?" asked Peter.
"Most likely yes."
"Well what are we waiting for, we got a trip to take," said Micky.
And the Monkees then raced upstairs and packed their bags.

The next day, the Monkees were off to the airport to take their trip to Beruvia.
Luckily for the guys, they had some money they had saved from gigs to pay for tickets, but they could only afford coach.
The guys didn't enjoy the plane ride with sitting in cramped seats and Peter asking "Are we there yet?" every ten minutes.

Finally, they arrived at the airport and the Monkees headed over to baggage claim.
Mike found his luggage, as did Micky and Peter, but Davy couldn't find his.
When he went to the head of claims, the officials told him that his suitcase didn't make it on the plane but will be arriving the next day.
"Wonderful." Davy complained, "How will I change clothes?"
"You could borrow some of mine, Davy." Mike smiled, "Though they might be a little big on you."
"Forget the clothes, what about his hair gel and cologne?" Micky asked dramatically, hand on forehead.
"Very funny." Davy said sourly.
"Maybe King Ludlow can let you borrow a few things, Davy." Peter said, "You and he are the same size."
"Speaking of Ludlow." Mike said, "That looks like one of his guys."
A man wearing a royal Beruvia uniform came over to them.
"Excuse me, sirs. Are you the Monkees group?"
"Yes we are." Peter replied.
"Very good, please come with me. The Prince has sent a car for you." The man replied.
"Thank you." Micky said.
The man helped carry their luggage over to a waiting limo. When the luggage was stowed the guys climbed inside. To their surprise, King Ludlow was sitting in the car waiting for them.
"Hello my friends!" He said happily.
"Hi, King Ludlow!" The Monkees exclaimed, "How are you?" They asked, shaking his hand.
"Oh I'm quite well, thank you." The King replied, then looked at Davy. "I see you haven't changed a bit." He smiled.
"Nor have you, Ludlow." Davy replied. "Thanks for inviting us."
"You're quite welcome. You four have been such good friends to me." Ludlow replied, "I just wish we could meet when there isn't a problem."
"You mean Count Myron really has escaped from prison?" Micky asked.
"Yes, and I have a full alert out for him, but he has eluded capture so far." The King replied, then sighed. "That is why I asked you four to come here. Davy, I may need for you to take my place once again."
"To be sort of like your decoy?" Davy asked.
"Yes, to act in my stead in certain situations." The King replied, "Normally, I wouldn't think of putting another person in danger, but now I have Wendy and Annabella Rose to think about. Wendy would rule as Regent until Annabella came of age, but if Myron got me, he would go after them next, and I simply cannot have that."
"I understand, Ludlow." Davy replied quietly, "If Myron took over it would be very bad for the people here."
"So will you do it?" The King asked.
"Sure. My luggage was lost, so I'll need new clothes." Davy smiled.
Everyone laughed at that as the limo approached the castle.

When the limo reached the palace, the Monkees each took a turn poking their heads out the window to get a better look.
"Why, that's a groovy looking place you've got Ludlow," said Mike.
"Thank you,” Ludlow answered back, "It's been in my family for generations.”
"It's almost as big as the castle I saw in England growing up," said Davy.
"I’ve only seen castles like that in books," said Peter.
"If you think the outside is huge, you should see the inside, said Ludlow, It's got four hundred bedrooms."
"Wow, your out of town guest don't have to worry about finding a hotel," said Micky.
"Plus, it has eighteen swimming pools, and an indoor polo field."
"That all sounds nice but what kind of a neighborhood do you have?" asked Peter.
"Just the castle and the gardens."

Once the limo reached the front entrance to the palace, the gates opened up.
The driver then took the limo to the front of the castle.
At the doorway stood Wendy, holding a small girl with long blond pigtails.
Ludlow got out of the limo and greeted his wife and child with a kiss.
"I'm glad you've returned home safe Ludlow,” said Wendy, “Ever since we found out about Myron, I've been a nervous wreck.”
"Don't worry Wendy, The Monkees have arrived to help us," said Ludlow.
The Monkees walked over to Queen Wendy and Princess Annabella Rose.
"Hello, Wendy." Micky said, "Nice to see you again."
"And you too, Micky." Wendy replied, "It's nice to see all of you."
"Hello, little Princess." Davy smiled, taking hold of Annabella Rose's hand, "You've sure grown into such a big girl."
"Thank you." The Princess replied. "Are you going to help my Daddy?"
"Yes, my friends and I are certainly going to try." Davy replied.

“You sure look like him.” Annabella Rose replied.
"Well, come inside now." Ludlow said to the group. "I'm sure you're all tired from your trip. I'll have some clothes sent to you, Davy."
"Thank you, Ludlow." Davy replied.
A footman came over and led them to their room, while two other footmen carried their luggage.
The Monkees' room was very large with four big beds inside. There were gold faucets in the bathrooms and silk curtains on the windows.
"Wow." Is all Peter could say.
The guys had jetlag from the long plane ride and were soon fast asleep on their beds.

The guys were in a deep sleep, when a knock at the door woke them up.
"Who's there?" asked a nervous Peter.
The open and there stood a butler, carrying a pile of clothes.
"Forgive me gentlemen, I'm Harold, Ludlow's butler," said the man.
"Hi Harold," said Davy.
"What can we do for you?" asked Mike.
"King Ludlow wanted me to give these to you," said Harold, handing the clothes to Davy.
The apparel consisted of one or two pairs of slacks and several shirts.
"Wow, those are some groovy threads," said Micky.
"Thank you Harold and give a big thanks to Ludlow as well," said Davy.
"You're very welcome sir," said Harold, as he walked out the door.
"Well, I can't fall back to sleep," said Mike.
"Me neither,” said Micky.
The guys then decided to go explore the castle.

"Let's go look around the castle." Peter said, "It'll tire us out and we can fall asleep again."
"Great idea, Peter." Davy replied, "If I have to take Ludlow's place, I might as well find out how the palace is laid out."
So the guys changed clothes and Davy changed into the clothes Ludlow had given him.
"They fit perfectly, Davy." Mike told him.
"Well they both are pretty short." Micky laughed.
"Watch it, Dolenz." Davy said with a mock serious face, "If I have to take the King's place I'll have you locked up with the other lunatics!"
Everyone laughed at that, and then left their bedroom to explore the area.

After walking around a bit, Micky's stomach began to growl.
"I wonder where the kitchen is?" He wondered.
"Let's find out." Mike said, leading the others to a door.
Suddenly, the door opened and standing there was a man holding a large sword!
"AHHH!" The Monkees screamed.
"Oh I'm sorry." The man said, putting down the sword. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Um...why...why are carrying that sword, mister?" Peter gulped.
"This is the weapons room." The man replied, "I was just polishing this sword when I heard footsteps outside. Would you like to look inside?"
"Sure." Mike said, and went inside the room, followed by the others. When the man saw Davy, he bowed.
"Your majesty. I didn't know you were coming."
"Oh, I'm not the King." Davy smiled, "I just look like him."
"My apologies." The man replied.
The man, who called himself the weapons keeper, showed the guys all the different types of swords, guns and other weapons.
"Is any of this stuff ever used?" Micky asked.
"Mostly for ceremonies." The man replied, "A good bit of this collection is items given to the King as gifts."
"Well, this is all very nice." Micky said, "But can you direct us to the kitchen?"
"There are several really." The man replied, "But the closest one is down one floor and to the left."
"Thank you and thanks for showing us your collection." Peter said.
"You're welcome, sirs." The man said, showing them out.
When the guys had gone, another man came out of hiding.
"Why didn't you let me kill them, Count Myron?" The man said, picking up a sword and expertly swinging it around.
"No, that would've let Ludlow know that I am here, hiding right under his royal nose." Myron replied, then looked thoughtful. "So he's brought his look-alike and the other meddling Americans here. No matter. I may still use this to my advantage...and take over Beruvia for myself!"

After walking around for quite sometime, the Monkees found the kitchen.
"Wow, look at the size of this place," said Peter, looking around the kitchen, which had a large icebox, several stoves and a large pantry.
"Yeah, I bet we can fit this entire kitchen in the whole downstairs of the pad," said Mike.
"Well, what are we waiting for," said Micky.
"Yeah, let's eat," said Davy.
The made themselves some sandwiches, with fruit and juice.
"That's was tasty," said Peter, finishing his snack.
"You know, I feel bad that we ate all that food with asking Ludlow," said Davy.
"So, give him an IOU," said Micky.
"Don't you mean we owe him?" asked Peter.
Mike was about to say something to Peter, but changed his mind.
Just then, the guys heard footsteps.
"Somebody's coming," said Davy.
"Everyone get in the pantry," said Mike.
And that's what the guys did.
Mike closed the door to the pantry just as someone walked into the kitchen. Opening the door a crack, Mike saw it was the man who worked in the weapons room.

"It's only that guy we just talked to." Mike told the others, "I guess he got hungry too."
The guys were about to come out of the pantry when the man spoke to someone outside.
"It's ok to come in, sir." He said, "The kitchen is empty."
Another man walked inside.
It was Count Myron.
Mike pushed the others back inside and motioned for them to keep quiet.
"Good thing this castle is so big." Myron said, "I can hide here and nobody would know."
"Yes, but those boys might come in here, so we should get something to eat and leave." His friend said.
The two men made themselves sandwiches, but Myron was looking for the mayo.
"I think there is some mayo in the pantry." His companion said.
He began to walk toward the pantry...
"Never mind, here it is." Myron said, pulling a jar of mayo out of the fridge.
The Monkees breathed a sigh of relief as the two men walked finished making their sandwiches and walked out of the kitchen.

"That was a close one," said Mike as he and the other Monkees stepped out of the pantry.
"You're telling me," said Davy.
"Yeah, and we almost got caught," said Micky.
"But what do we do about Count Myron?” Asked Peter, “Should we tell Ludlow now?"
"I'm afraid we have to," said Mike.
"Yeah, we have to warn him and Wendy," said Davy.
"So let's go look for him," said Micky.
As the guys walked out of the kitchen, Peter stopped them.
"Wait, I thought of something," he said.
"What's that Peter?" asked Mike.
"We have to be extra careful, he could be anywhere, listening in on us."
"Good point."
And with that, The Monkees went to find the king.
It didn't take to long to find Ludlow, for the guys spotted him as they entered the hallway.
"There you guys are, I've been looking everywhere for you.” said Ludlow, “I got something to tell you."
"So do we but you go first," said Mike.
"We're having a gathering at the palace tonight to welcome you and some of my family's arrivals."
"Hey groovy," said Peter.
"Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"
"Well, we don't mean to give you any fear Ludlow, but Count Myron is in the castle somewhere," said Davy.
"He is?” asked Ludlow.
"Yeah, we overhear him talking to some guy and he knows we're here," said Micky.
"Oh my, I better get extra security at the event tonight," said Ludlow.
"What about Wendy and Annabella Rose?" asked Davy.
"I don't know how to tell them without them getting scared."

"I'm sure Wendy will notice the extra guards, Ludlow." Davy said.
"True, but I'll still have to tell her." The King replied, "Let's go back to my chambers. I think tonight calls for there to be two King Ludlows."
"Tonight?" Davy asked.
"Yes, I hate to put you in danger so soon, but I must protect my family and my kingdom." Ludlow said, putting a hand on his double's shoulder.
Davy nodded and then he and the others followed the King back to his chambers to get ready for big gathering.

When they got there, the royal tailor already had two outfits prepared: A pair of dark slacks with a red jacket with a white sash going across the chest.
As Davy changed into his new clothes, King Ludlow called the captain of the guards and ordered extra security for that night.

That night, the place was decorated with plush red carpets on the floors and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings.
Even the gardens were tended to for the big night.
Back in the castle, Ludlow was discussing his plans with the Monkees.
"Now, here's what I have in mind.” said Ludlow, “I'll stay in the main ballroom with Wendy and Davy you and the guys meet with the guests at the front door.
"Sounds good to me," said Davy.
"As long as there will be extra guards, I think we'll be ok," said Mike.
"What if Myron comes, won't he get confuse?" asked Peter.
"I think that's what Ludlow's planning on doing," said Micky.

Ludlow then told Davy about the various relatives that were coming, and how to greet them. Davy realized he would never remember all the names, but he promised to try.
So after Davy had finished changing clothes, he and the other Monkees went to the castle front door to greet the guests.
Davy stood on the front steps, while Mike, Peter and Micky stood just inside the door so they could keep an eye on things.
Not long afterwards, several cars and limos began to arrive one by one up the driveway. Then they each stopped at the front door and the chauffeurs opened the doors for the passengers.
It seemed each person was dressed fancier than the last. The women wore gowns and the men tuxedos. Davy greeted each one as if he had known them for years, and fortunately no one seemed to catch on that their host was not King Ludlow.
During a break between cars, Micky came over to Davy.
"How you doing, Davy?" He asked.
"My hand is going to hurt for a week." Davy replied, flexing his fingers.
"I think that's just about it for the guests anyway." Micky replied.
Just then, another car pulled up to the steps and Micky went back inside. The driver, dressed in gray and wearing a cape, got out and opened the back door. Another man wearing a dark blue suit and a black cape climbed out and began to walk up the steps. He had on glasses and had a small beard on his chin.
"Oh greetings, your Majesty." The man said with a thick accent that Davy couldn't place, "Thank you for inviting me."
"Yes, it wouldn't be a party without you!" Davy smiled.
"I can say the same about you, Ludlow." The man replied, his accent suddenly gone.
Before Davy could react, the man untied his cape and then with one smooth motion, threw it over Davy's head!
"Hey, what's going on?" Davy demanded, trying to get the cape off his head.
The man and his driver grabbed Davy and began to force him down the steps to their car. The other Monkees saw what was going on and raced outside to help their friend.
"Stop!" Mike, Peter and Micky shouted.
But the driver pulled a sword out from under his own cape and brandished at the three Monkees! They stopped short as they suddenly realized it was the man from the weapons room.
"Stay back or I'll cut you three into pieces!" He snarled.
The King's guards heard the commotion and began to run to the scene, but the man with the mustache pulled out a gun and began to fire at them. The guards returned fire.
Mike, Peter and Micky ducked to avoid being hit. The driver jumped into the car and floored the gas just as the other man shoved Davy into the back seat.
Several bullets hit the car, one even shattered the back window, but Micky called out to the guards.
"Stop, you might hit the king!"
The guards stopped firing as the car sped away.
Ludlow and Wendy then ran out of the palace and over to the three Monkees.
"What happened?" He asked.
"It was Ludlow and he grabbed Davy!" Peter exclaimed.
A guard ran over to them.
"Your majesty?" He asked, confused, "I thought you were in that car."
"No, that was my double." Ludlow replied, "I asked him to take my place while Myron was on the loose...but I didn't think Myron would be so bold as to try and kidnap me on the palace steps."
"Poor Davy." Mike said sadly, upset that he couldn't protect his friend.

Meanwhile, Davy was being held at gunpoint by Myron while the other man drove. Even though he was scared, Davy continued to pretend he was the King.
"You won't get away with this, Myron." He said angrily. "My guards will find you."
"Your guards couldn't find me even when I was hiding in your castle, dear Ludlow." Myron chuckled, putting handcuffs on Davy's wrists, "So I doubt they will find me now." He looked over at the driver.
"How much further, Carl?" He asked.
"Not much, sir." Carl replied.
"Good, there's more to be done tonight." Myron smiled evilly.

Ludlow told Wendy to spend time with the guests, while he took the Monkees to the meeting room.
"So, what do we do?" asked Mike.
"Yeah, how do we save Davy?" asked Peter.
"Where could they have taken him?" said Micky.
"I don't know, I just don't know," said Ludlow.
"We should have kept on an eye on Davy more," said Peter.
"Please, don't blame yourselves, I'm the one who got him and you guys into this mess, and I'll try to get Davy out of it."
Just then, a guard entered the room.
"I'm sorry to interrupt sir, but some of the guardsmen have gone after the car, thinking it was you those men took," said the guard.
"Maybe they'll be able to get Davy back," said Micky.
Ludlow turned back to the guard. "Radio those guardsmen and tell them to follow Myron's car and see where it goes, but they are not to attempt a rescue until more troops arrive. Understood?"
"Yes, your Majesty." The guard replied. He gave the King a crisp salute and walked out of the room.
Wendy then entered the room, carrying a visibly upset Annabella Rose.
"See, Daddy's ok, honey." Wendy told her daughter.
"What's the matter?" Ludlow asked.
"Annabella overheard some of the guards talking and thought you were in trouble." Wendy replied.
Ludlow took his daughter in his arms.
"Yes, Daddy's fine, sweetheart." He said, giving her a kiss.
"Where's the man that looks like you, Daddy?" The Princess asked. "Is he ok?"
The adults in the room looked at each other.
"Yes, sweetheart, he's just fine." The King replied with a smile.

Meanwhile, the King's guards were shadowing Myron's car. They stayed back as far as they could so they would not be noticed.
Count Myron was watching for any signs of pursuit out the smashed back window. After awhile, he decided he wasn't being followed, so he told Carl he could slow down.
"We don't want to get pulled over for a speeding ticket, now do we, Ludlow?" He laughed, settling down on the back seat.
Davy just looked at the floor, not letting Myron seeing the anxiety in his face. He just hoped Myron didn't catch on that he wasn't the King, or he would probably be killed.
After what seemed like forever, the car finally stopped.
"We're here sir," he said, turning to Count Myron.
"Excellent," said Myron, grinning an evil grin.
The two men got out of the car, but Davy just sat in the back, not moving an inch.
"Let's get going your highness," said Myron, pulling Davy out of the car, and ripping the sash of his shirt.
The men then walked up to a small cabin, and entered it, with Myron still dragging Davy.
"Well, what do you think of our hideout Ludlow?” Asked Myron, “You're going to be staying here for awhile." Myron and Carl began laugh.
Myron then pushed Davy to the ground, only ripping his sleeve. Myron then stopped laughing when he noticed something.
"Wait a minute, that's not Ludlow!" he shouted.
"What do you mean?" Carl asked.
"Ludlow has a birthmark on his shoulder!"
"Maybe it's on the other one."
Carl then ripped the other shirtsleeve and saw that the other shoulder had no birthmark either.
"It's that musician look-alike!" shouted Myron.
"I guess that means you can let me go?" asked Davy.
"No, we have plans for you," said Myron as he and Carl began to laugh again.
Myron and Carl grabbed Davy's arms and pulled him to his feet. Then they dragged him over to a bookcase against a far wall. Carl touched a secret button on the side of the bookcase and the bookcase swung back inside the wall. The open space revealed a secret set of steps that led into the cabin's basement.
Flipping on a light switch, Myron gestured for Davy to go down the steps. When Davy balked, Carl grabbed the back of Davy's jacket and forced him to go down. Myron followed and the bookcase closed up behind him.
The basement consisted of a short hallway with two small rooms, one on the right and the other on the left. Davy was taken to the right one.
Myron flipped on another switch and the light revealed a table and chair with a microphone sitting in the middle of the table. Behind the table hung a banner emblazoned with the Royal Beruvian seal. In front of the table was a television camera with several wires coming from it and leading to a large control panel. From the control panel, other wires went into a hole in the wall.
"What's all this?" Davy asked.
"This, young man, is where you are going to broadcast to the people of Beruvia." Myron said, picking up a piece of paper form the desk. "The wires you see going into the wall are attached to the TV tower not far from here. We will cut into tonight's programming, you will pretend to be the King and you will read from this script, announcing that you are going to abdicate the throne to me."
"Not a chance." Davy said. "Besides, all the real King has to do is go on TV and renounce me."
"Oh, I'll change the script to say that there's an imposter at the palace." Myron replied, "In the confusion, I will take over."
"You're crackers!" Davy exclaimed, "Your plan will never work!"
"Yes it will and you will help me." Myron said menacingly and nodded at Carl.
Carl unsheathed his sword and put it to Davy's throat.
"If you kill me, you won't have anyone to do your announcement." Davy said, swallowing.
"So you'll do it?" Myron asked.
"No." Davy said sternly.
Myron let out a long breath before answering.
"So you think you have us, do you, young fool?" He asked.
Davy gave Myron a smug smile.
Myron simply turned Davy toward him and took the handcuffs off his wrists. Then, he pulled off Davy's torn shirt and sash.
"Now, you're going let me go?" Davy asked hopefully.
"Carl, take this imposter into the next room and convince him to cooperate with us."
"Yes, Lord Myron." Carl replied.
"And be careful not to damage his face." Myron added, "We don't want our King to show any signs of trauma."
"I know just how to convince him, sir." Carl chuckled.
"Very good." Myron replied, "While you do that, I'll repair this sash and shirt and get the studio ready."
Carl grabbed Davy's arm and pulled him out of the room.

Meanwhile back at the palace, Ludlow, Wendy, Mike, Peter and Micky were in Ludlow's office waiting for word about Davy. The guests had been sent home with the explanation that the King had taken ill. Princess Annabella Rose had been taken to bed by her nanny.
Ludlow sat on his chair behind his desk, while the others paced back and forth.
"I am so sorry." Ludlow said for the 100th time. "I am a coward. I should've tried harder to find Myron instead of hiding behind my friends."
"It's Count Myron's fault for kidnapping Davy." Mike said, standing in front of the desk, "Not yours. You're not the first person to use a double and you won't be the last."
Ludlow was about to reply when the phone on his desk rang. It had barely finished its first ring when Ludlow snatched up the receiver and put it to his ear.
"Yes, any news?" The King asked.
Ludlow was silent for several seconds as he listened to the person on the other end.
"Have the guards surround the place, but do not let themselves be seen, unless they try to leave." Ludlow said, "I will be there soon." The King then put the receiver back on its cradle.
"What happened?" Micky asked before anybody else could.
"They've traced Myron's car to a small cabin in the west woods near the TV tower." Ludlow replied, "My guards are going to surround the cabin and make sure they don't leave."
"That's great!" The others replied, hugging each other.
"Now, we have to find a way into that cabin and confront Myron." Ludlow stated.

Count Myron came back downstairs after sewing up the rips in Davy's shirt and sash. He then got all the equipment into position and turned on the camera. Satisfied all was in readiness, he went into the next room.
Myron found Davy tied spread-eagle to a bed, now barefoot as well as shirtless, with an exasperated Carl standing at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips.
"What's going on?" Myron demanded.
"Not only am I the greatest swordsman in Beruvia," Carl said shortly, "but also the greatest tickler. Yet I tickled him, he laughs, but refuses to cooperate!"
Davy, his face bathed in sweat, gave Myron another smug smile. Myron said nothing, just placed Davy's repaired shirt and sash across a chair. He walked over to Davy.
"Now you're going to let me go?" Davy asked again.
Myron looked at Carl. "It seems he is as stubborn as his double." He said, "He just needs some extra persuasion."
Davy's smug smile faded quickly when he realized what Myron planned to do.
Sure enough, Myron began to tickle Davy's stomach, sides, ribs and underarms while Carl worked on Davy's feet.
"Oh no, hehehe." Davy giggled, "No fair, two against...HAHAHA!" He laughed.
Davy wasn't as ticklish as Micky so he was able to resist Carl's foot tickling, but now, being tickled everywhere, was too much for the young Englishman. He laughed hysterically.
"HAHAHA! Please STOP! HAHAHA!" Davy cried.
Davy was going crazy. He tried to hold on, thinking of Ludlow and his friends, but the tickling was too much for him.
"OK, I'LL HELP YOU! HAHAHAHEEHEE!" Davy shouted.
"You'll play the King and read from the script?" Myron asked, still tickling him.
"Yes, I'll do what you want." Davy laughed. “HAHA!”
Myron and Carl stopped tickling Davy and untied him. Davy pulled on his boots, shirt and sash and let Myron lead him over to the studio.
When Davy sat behind the desk, Carl pulled out a comb and combed Davy's hair so he would look just like Ludlow. When all was in readiness, Myron handed Davy the script.
"Good luck, your majesty." He smiled.

Ludlow and his men raced downstairs to the armed cars parked on the side of the castle.
"Hurry men, we have to get to the cabin.
As the men were getting prepared to leave, Ludlow saw Peter, Micky and Mike approaching the cars, wearing guard uniforms
"Ludlow, wait!" shouted Mike.
"We're coming with you!" cried Peter.
"No, I can't put you guys in danger too," said Ludlow.
"But we gotta save Davy, he's our friend," said Micky.
"What about Myron?"
"Don't worry the guys and I have a plan," said Mike.
"What is your plan?" asked Ludlow.
"We can't tell you until you let us come with you," said Mike.
"Ok, but please be careful. By the way, what do you have planned, and why are you wearing those uniforms?"
"Its part of our plan," said Micky.
A large group of guards got into one car, while another group went in another with Ludlow and the Monkees, and the cars drove up to the cabin hideout.
Ludlow and the guards hoped that they would be able to stop Myron from whatever he had planned, and the guys hoped Davy was ok.

Meanwhile back at the cabin, Myron and Carl were getting ready for Davy to make the big statement.
"Is everything ready Carl?" asked Myron.
"Just about sir," Carl replied.
"Good, I can't wait to see how the people will react to the news."
The two men began to laugh.

Little did the gentlemen knew, during this whole time, Ludlow, the Monkees and the guards had drove up to the cabin and were parked in some bushes so they wouldn’t be seen. Everyone got out of the cars, and the Monkees quietly approached the cabin.
"Good luck guys,” Ludlow whispered to the Monkees.
The Monkees went up to the door and knocked on it. Though Myron, Carl and Davy were in the basement, the knock was loud enough for them to hear.
"Who can that be?!” Shouted Myron, "Don't people know that this is private property!"
"Maybe it's a door-to-door salesman who got lost," said Davy.
"Shut up!” Myron barked, “Carl, go see who that is!"
Carl then went up the stairs to answer the door. He opened it to find the Monkees outside.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" asked Carl.
"Good evening sir," said Mike, talking in an accent.
"We're looking for a very, very bad man," said Peter, speaking in a fake voice as well.
"What did this man do?" asked Carl.
"He's been causing trouble around town impersonating the king," said Micky replied, who also spoke in an accent.
"Elvis?"
"King Ludlow, which king do you think we're talking about?"
"Oh, sorry."
"Anyway, we heard that the trouble making might be around here," said Mike.
"Do you mind if we take a look around?" asked Micky.
"Well, actually,” said Carl, who got interrupted by the Monkees entering the cabin.
"Thanks, we'll let ourselves in," said Peter.
As soon as the guys entered the cabin, they began to search for Davy.
"He wasn't in the kitchen," said Peter, coming out of the kitchen, while eating a sandwich.
Mike exited the bed room and said, "He wasn't in the bedroom. Oh, and by the way you need a bed."
"Why?" asked Carl.
"I took yours apart to find that person."
"He's not even around here," said Micky, searching through the plants.
"Well gentlemen, you looked through the whole place and I guess that person you're looking for is not here. So you can now be on your way."
Just then, the basement door opened and Myron appeared.
"Carl, what's going on here?" he called.
"Sir, you said that we searched the whole house," said Mike.
"But now we see that you have a basement," said Peter.
"If finding this person wasn't so important, we’d arrest you for lying," said Micky.
The Monkees headed for the basement, pushing Myron out of the way.
"Don’t bother to help us, we can lead ourselves down there," said Mike, as he Peter and Micky headed downstairs.
The three saw Davy right away, just as they made it down the stairs, and they approached him.
"Ah-ha, there you are sir," said Mike as he approached Davy, followed by Micky and Peter.
"You've done a very bad thing impersonating the King Ludlow," said Peter, wagging a finger at Davy.
"You're coming with us," said Micky," grabbing Davy by the arm.
Though Davy knew it was the guys under their disguises, he played along.
"Oh, no what cruel fate will await me?" he cried.
Just as the guys were leaving, they turned to Myron and Carl.
"Gentlemen, you did a wonderful job keeping this man here while he was on the loose," said Mike.
"You did the country a great public service," said Micky.
"We salute you," said Peter, saluting.
But when he did it, his hat fell off. Myron saw through the guys cover right away.
"It's those musicians!” He shouted, “Get them Carl!"
And so, Myron and Carl began to chase the Monkees around the cabin.
The chase inside the cabin went on for sometime, before the Monkees made a quick exit through the door. They raced outside, followed by Myron and Carl.
But when the two got outside, they were stopped suddenly by the palace guardsmen, who had them surrounded.

Ludlow approached Myron and Carl and said, “You two are in serious trouble with the courts. Guards, take them away!"
The guardsmen then took Myron and Carl to the armored car.
Ludlow then turned to the Monkees and said, “Well, I have to admit guys, I had some doubts on your plan, but it worked out great. Brilliant job fellas."
"Thanks Ludlow, we had some doubts in the plan too, but it worked out for the best," said Mike.
"Davy, I'm sorry I got you into trouble."
"That's all right Ludlow, as long as we stopped Myron and his assistant, and I got saved by my friends that's all that matters," said Davy.
Ludlow and the Monkees went back to the palace, while the guards took Myron and Carl to jail.

A few days later, once everything settled down, the celebration for Ludlow's family was held. Ludlow rewarded the guys for the capturing of Myron and Carl, who were both sentenced to long terms in prison.

To top it all off, the Monkees were even knighted by Ludlow.

A few days later, the Monkees were back at the pad, still taking about their trip.
"That was so groovy adventure we had," said Micky, looking at the pictures he took.
"It sure was," said Mike, reading the paper about the events that took place.
"I still can't believe Ludlow made us knights," said Peter, admiring his medal.
"You know, I just had a thought," said Davy.
"What's that?" Micky asked.
"Do you think the next time we go, Ludlow and Wendy will make me a duke? After all, me and Ludlow look so much alike, we could pass for brothers.”
"He's only a knight, and it's already going to his head," sighed Mike, to Micky and Peter.
"Man, can you imagine, Sir Davy fighter of the evil, saving fair ladies in distress.
Duke of Jones, I like the sound of that."
The three Monkees talked among themselves then turned to Davy with wicked grins.
"Say, will his royal ness like to go for a dip?" asked Mike.
Before Davy could answer, Mike, Peter and Micky picked him up and carried him out the back door.
"Hey fellas, what a minute, I was only joking," said Davy.
The walked down to the beach, still carrying Davy, and when they reached the shore, they threw Davy into the water.
Davy swam around a bit, before getting himself to the shore line, when he looked up at the guys and said, “Is any way to treat royalty?"
"Sorry about that Sir Davy," said Mike, still grinning.
"It won't happen again,” said Peter.
"Yeah, next time we'll tell you ahead of time," said Micky as he and the other Monkees began to laugh as they help their friend out of the water.

Sometime later, Ludlow and Wendy sent the guys news that they were expecting another child, who turned out to be a son named Ludlow David.
As for Myron and Carl, they are both serving a harsh term in jail.

The End

By: Lisa, Mickys411 and NoraLou Rated G

Micky woke up refreshed from a long night's sleep. He sat up, yawned, stretched and wiped his eyes. Looking over at the other bed in the room, Micky noticed Mike was already up. That really didn't surprise him, since Mike usually got up before Micky did anyway.
The curly-haired drummer got up, washed, dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. As he walked down the hurricane stairs, he noticed Mike and Davy sleeping on the living room couches. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw Peter sitting at the kitchen table, staring into his cup of coffee.
"Morning, Peter." Micky said, then pointed at the other two Monkees. "Did Mike and Davy watch the late movie?"
Peter yawned before answering.
"They did, but after they had no choice." Peter replied, taking a sip of his coffee.
"What do you mean?" Micky asked, opening the fridge and grabbing the orange juice.
"Your snoring kept all of us awake again last night." Peter said.
"Oh man, I told you I don't snore." Micky said, "I stayed awake all night one night and didn't snore once!"
"Keep it down in there." Davy said sleepily from the couch, "We're trying to sleep."
"I don't snore." Micky mouthed to Peter and proceeded to eat his cereal.

Later that morning, Mike and Davy finally woke up and got ready for the day. Still, they looked tired as they gathered at the bandstand for rehearsal.
"Ready guys?" Micky asked.
"Can we skip rehearsal this once?" Peter asked, "I want to take a nap."
"It's not even noon yet." Micky remarked, "Are you that tired?"
"Yes, Micky." Mike said, "Your snoring is keeping us awake!"
"I don't snore!" Micky exclaimed.
"Yes you do, repeatedly." Davy said. "I think I'll take a nap too."
Mike, Peter and Davy went into their bedrooms to sleep, leaving Micky fuming.

Later on, while Micky was changing the oil in the Monkeemobile, Mike, Peter and Davy had a secret meeting.
"We gotta convince Micky he's keeping us awake every night." Davy said, "I need my beauty sleep."
"I know! We'll tape him!" Mike said.
"Tape his mouth closed?" Peter asked.
"No, make a tape recording of him snoring and play it back for him the next day." Mike replied, "If Micky hears himself snore, he'll have to believe us, and then maybe he'll have to admit he has a problem."
"Great idea!" Davy exclaimed, "I know someone who can let us borrow his tape recorder."
"Go ahead and borrow it." Mike said, "So tonight we can start the beginning of the end of Micky's snoring."

That night, Mike, Davy and Peter were getting the tape ready, while Micky was brushing his teeth.
"I sure hope this plan works." said Davy putting the tape into the recorder.
"Same here," said Peter.
"All we have to do is slip the tape recorder under Micky's pillow, and we'll have a recording of him snoring," said Mike.
Peter then lifted Micky's pillow and Mike placed the tape recorder under it, while Davy kept an eye on the door.
"Micky's coming guys!" he called.
Peter and Mike made sure the tape recorder was placed right under the pillow, then jumped into their beds, as did Davy. The guys pretended to be asleep when Micky entered the room.

Micky stretched and then quietly climbed into bed. Fortunately, the pillow was big and soft enough so Micky didn't feel or hear the tape recorder beneath it.
Just as Micky turned out the light near his bed, Peter suddenly remembered that he forgot to turn the tape recorder on!
On tiptoe, Peter crept across the dark room and over to Micky's bed. He started to feel for the recording switch. After several seconds, Peter began to wonder why he couldn't find the switch.
"What are you doing, Peter?" Mike whispered in Peter's ear.
"Oh, sorry Mike." Peter whispered back, "I thought this was Micky's bed. I forgot to turn the tape recorder on."
"Well, Micky's bed is that way, shotgun." Mike replied, pointing at Micky's bed.
"Which way?" Peter asked, unable to see which way Mike was pointing in the dark.
"That way…" Mike said, then realized Peter couldn't see his hand. He grabbed Peter and turned him in the right direction.
"That way and be quiet." Mike whispered.
Peter crept over to what he hoped was Micky's bed and felt for the recorder's on switch. He found something and started to move it back and forth.
"Why are you wagging my finger, Peter?" Davy whispered.
"I forgot to turn the tape recorder on and I thought this was Micky's bed." Peter whispered back.
Davy turned Peter around and gave him a slight shove in the right direction. Finally, Peter found Micky's bed and was able to turn the recorder on. Relieved, he tiptoed back to his own bed.
"Peter, this is my bed." Mike whispered, getting annoyed when Peter pulled his bed covers back.
"Sorry Mike." Peter whispered and felt his way back to his own bed.
"What's all the whispering about?" Micky asked his band mates.
"I was just trying to count sheep, Micky." Peter replied, "And I kept losing count."
"Oh okay. Good night, guys." Micky said.
"Goodnight, Micky." Mike, Peter and Davy replied.

The next morning, Micky awoke and once again found himself alone in the bedroom. Suddenly, he heard a loud noise, as if a freight train was charging through the downstairs!
Jumping out of bed, nearly tripping on his bed sheets, Micky charged out of the bedroom and down the hurricane steps. He found Mike, Peter and Davy sitting at the breakfast table, staring at a tape machine.
"What's all the racket?" Micky had to shout above the din.
"What, Micky?" Mike shouted back.
"What's all the noise?" Micky shouted.
"We can't hear you because of all the noise!" Peter shouted back.
Mike calmly hit the off switch of the tape recorder and the noise stopped.
"What kind of crazy tape do you have there?" Micky demanded, "It sounds like a train wreck!"
"Yeah, it is pretty loud, wouldn't you say, Micky?" Davy asked.
"Well, what is it?" Micky asked.
"It's you snoring, that's what it is, Micky." Mike replied.
"Oh no way!" Micky said, shaking his head, "No way could that be me!"
"Oh really?" Peter asked, pushing the reverse button.
When the tape was at the beginning, Peter hit play and Micky's voice said:
"What's all the whispering about?"
"I was just trying to count sheep, Micky." Peter's voice replied, "And I kept losing count."
"Oh okay. Good night, guys." Micky's voice said.
"Goodnight, Micky." Mike, Peter and Davy replied.
About a minute later, the awful train wreck sound began again, followed by a buzz saw and other loud noises. Finally, Davy hit the stop button and then he, Mike and Peter looked at Micky.
"You're right, fellas." Micky admitted, "I do snore."
"Well, the thing is, Mick, you've always snored, it's just that it's gotten a lot worse recently," Mike pointed out.
"Sorry I didn't believe you guys before," Micky apologized. "But…what do I do now? I can't just not sleep ever again."
Sympathetic Peter put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Of course not, but there's got to be something that helps. Tell you what, why don't we go to the library after rehearsal this morning? There's got to be a book on it there."
"Alright," Micky shrugged. It would be a bit embarrassing going and asking for a book on that particular topic, but he supposed it would be helpful in the long run.

Half way through rehearsal, Micky's voice started sounding strained and he kept having to take sips of water for his throat.
"You alright there, mate?" asked Davy as they paused in the middle of a song for Micky to take a long drink.
"My throat feels kind of tight," complained the drummer. "Probably from all that smoke at the club we played in the other night. I'm sure it's nothing. Sorry guys. I'll be better by tonight, I promise."
Mike blew the air out of his cheeks in frustration. Telling himself none of this was actually Micky's fault, he tried to be understanding, "Alright, let's stop for a while. Seems like the sooner we to go the library, the better."

The Monkees then headed down to the library, to see if they could find what they were looking for.
When they entered the place, Micky timidly approached the librarian, who was seated at a desk.
He cleared his throat then spoke in a soft voice, “Excuse me, do you have any books about snoring?"
"What did you say young man?" asked the librarian.
"Do you have any books on snoring problems," Micky said, in a sharper but still quiet tone.
"Young man, I can't help you, if you don't speak up."
"Do you have any books on snoring?" Micky said sounding louder, but quiet enough that the other people don't hear him.
"You're looking for a book about snoring, why didn't you say so?" asked the librarian in a loud voice.
A few young women, who were looking through some books covered their mouths to keep from laughing out loud.
This made Micky feel more embarrassed.
"I thought you had to be quiet in the library," Peter whispered to Mike and Davy.
The librarian they looked through the card catalog, and spoke up still in a loud voice to Micky, "Good news young man, there is a book about snoring."
The other people began to laugh to themselves, as Micky's face turned almost as red as a tomato.
Peter put a hand on Micky's shoulder and said, “Don’t feel bad, When I was 12, I had trouble finding a book about not being afraid of the dark."
Micky felt a bit better. The librarian gave Micky the card, the guys helped him find the book, and they took it out.

When they got home, the guys began to skim through the book.
"There are many reasons for snoring problems,” Mike read, “One of them can be caused by allergies."
"Maybe we can find out if Micky is allergic to anything in the pad," said Peter.
"It's worth a try," said Davy.

So starting with his bed, Micky began to sniff around the pad, seeing if anything could be making him snore so much at night.
"It could be anything." Micky said, sniffing his pillow, "How can I pinpoint the cause?"
Mike thought for a moment.
"Wait, you started snoring real bad a few weeks ago." He said, "Maybe it's something new in the pad."
"Let's take anything new out of the bedroom and see if that helps." Davy said.
So the guys took anything new they had brought into the pad and placed it in the downstairs closet.
Mike placed a pack of guitar picks in the closet.
Peter put a handful of incense sticks in the closet.
Davy put his new cologne and some love letters in the closet.
Micky put his new shirt his Mom had bought him in the closet and then closed the door.
"Is that all the stuff?" Micky asked.
"Just the food is left." Mike replied, "But that's in the fridge."
"Well, all we can do is wait and see if that works." Peter replied, "I'll bet it's my incense causing the problem."
"Let's hope so Peter." Micky said, rubbing his throat.
"Throat still sore, Micky?" Davy asked.
"Just a little. Let's eat and go to bed." Micky replied, "It's been a long day."

The next morning, Micky woke up alone in the bedroom once again. With a deep sigh, he went out to the top of the hurricane steps and saw his three friends sleeping on the couch. Shaking his head in disgust, Micky went back into the bedroom to change clothes.

"Well, that allergy idea didn't work." Mike yawned over his cereal.
"I'm sorry guys." Micky said, sipping his orange juice, "I don't know what to do."
"Maybe you can sleep during the day and we'll sleep at night." Davy suggested.
"Then how will we do our gigs?" Mike asked, "Most of them are at night."
"Didn't think of that." Davy said sheepishly. "Any more ideas in that book, Peter?"
Peter flipped a few pages and showed them to his friends.
"Here's a home remedy for snoring." Peter replied, "You drink a mixture orange juice, lime juice and tomato juice mixed with olive oil and it will stop you from snoring."
"Yeah, by killing you." Micky said, making a face.
"Try it anyway, Micky." Peter added, "And see what happens."
"Okay, but tonight I'm also going to sleep outside so you three can sleep in your beds for once." Micky replied.

That night, Micky drank a small, very small, glass of Peter's concoction. Then he got out his old sleeping bag and went to sleep out on the back porch.
Unfortunately, Micky started to snore loudly once again and since he was outside, he was heard by Mr. Babbit.
"Air raid!" Babbit shouted as he jumped out of his bed.
Babbit looked outside but didn't see any planes. Listening further, he determined the sound was coming from the Monkees pad.
"Those long-haired weirdoes." Babbit growled, pulling on his robe. "Waking me up out of a sound sleep."
Babbit grabbed a flashlight and charged out his back door and over to the Monkees' pad. As he got onto to the back porch, he nearly tripped over Micky.
"What are you doing? What's all the noise?" Babbit demanded, shining his light in Micky's face.
"Hey, what's going on?" Micky said, half-asleep. "I'm trying to sleep."
"You're keeping me and half the neighborhood up, that's what." Babbit stated, "Go inside if you're going to snore like that."
"I didn't want to wake my friends up again, Mr. Babbit." Micky said, now fully awake.
"Better them than me, now get inside!" Babbit shouted.
"What's all the yelling..." Mike started to ask, as he and the other two Monkees came outside. "Oh, sorry Mr. Babbit. Micky has a snoring problem."
"I can see that." Babbit snapped, "If he interrupts my sleep again, out you all go!" With that, Babbit stormed back to his house.
"Great, now I can't sleep in or out of the pad." Micky groused, rubbing his throat.
"I think this calls for more drastic measures." Mike told Micky.
"What do you mean?" Micky asked nervously, "You're not going to throw me out are you?"
"No, we're taking you to a doctor."

The next day, the guys took Micky to the doctor.
While the doctor checked him out, Mike, Davy and Peter sat in the waiting room.
"You know, I wonder how Micky is doing?" said Davy.
"He sure has been in there for quite sometime,” said Mike.
"Yeah, I hope everything's ok," said Peter.
Just then, Micky meet the guys in the waiting room.
"Well, what did the doctor say?" asked Mike.
"Are you ok?" Peter asked.
"Not really," said Micky.
"What's wrong?" asked Davy.
"I have an enlarged tonsil."
As if on cue, Dr. Patel came out to meet with the guys.
"Well, I think we found the reason behind Micky's snoring," he announced. "His tonsils are swollen so much I'm surprised he can swallow."
"So, does he need some medicine?" asked Davy.
Micky shook his head and answered quietly, "Worse than that. I've got to have surgery to get them taken out." He felt bad knowing there'd be extra bills to pay with the cost of an operation.
"I've scheduled surgery for a week from tomorrow," continued the doctor. "My recommendation for right now is for Micky to drink plenty of water and hot tea to help reduce the swelling. It won't help the snoring much, but it will help his throat feel better."
"Can he still sing?" wondered Mike. "He's one of the lead singers in our band."
Doctor Patel thought for a moment, "He could, but it might make his throat worse. That's up to you."
"But what can we do about my snoring in the meantime?" Micky asked the doctor. "My friends are hardly getting any sleep-and with everyone waking me up all the time, neither am I."
"Try sewing a tennis ball onto the back of your pajamas," he suggested. "It might help to keep you from rolling on your back."
"But Doc, Micky sleeps on his stomach," sighed Peter, and they all looked very dejected, especially Micky. He was not looking forward to having surgery, and in fact was a little frightened at the idea. To top it off he still had a week before anything would be done about his problem and no solutions seemed to be helping.
The Monkees left Dr. Patel's office and went back to the pad. Micky was quiet as he had a lot on his mind, the least of which was money. How would he afford the operation?
Back at the pad, Mike called a meeting and they all sat around the kitchen table.
"This meeting is now in order." He said, banging the gavel on the table. "We now know what's causing Micky's snoring, and it can be treated, but that bring other problems. First of all, what do we do about our gigs? We have one coming up tomorrow night at the Surf Club and after Micky's operation there's one at the Vincent Van Go-Go."
"Micky's not going to be feeling good for either one." Davy replied, "We can't cancel them, as we need the money."
"We barely had enough for Babbit this month." Peter added.
"I can sing." Micky said, looking at the table, "If I have enough hot tea to keep me going."
"How about we sing your songs, Micky?" Mike asked. "All you'll have to do is drum."
"I don't want you guys to strain your voices for me." Micky replied.
"It'll only be for a few dates, Micky." Davy said.
"Let' switch the song order a little, so I can do most of my songs at the beginning of the gig while my voice is still strong." Micky told the others.
Mike, Peter and Davy thought that was a good idea, though they made Micky promise to tell them if his throat hurt him during the gig.
"Well, that's settled." Micky said, "But now..." He let out a breath, "What about the money my operation is going to cost?"
"Do you have any health insurance, Micky?" Mike asked.
"No, what about you three?" Micky replied.
"Our health insurance consists of band-aids and antiseptic." Davy said, shaking his head.
"Don't let the cost of this operation worry you, Micky." Peter said, putting a hand on Micky's arm, "We'll find the money for you."
"Thanks, but I can't burden you guys with that expense." Micky replied.
"You're our friend, Micky." Mike said, "We're going to help you out."
"How, rob a bank?" Micky chuckled.
"No, I'm going to call my Aunt Kate in Texas." Mike replied, "She's getting money from the oil on her land. Maybe she can send some money."
"I'll sell my string collection.” Peter added.
Davy was about to ask about that collection but thought better of it. Instead he said, "I have some money saved up that my grandfather sent me for my birthday. I'll put that toward your operation."
"Thanks guys." Micky smiled, but down deep, he had been hoping for an excuse not to have the operation. "I'll call my Mom and maybe she can help out too."
"And I think maybe we could ask Babbit or Mrs. Purdy if they need some work done and get money that way too." Mike added.
Micky, Peter and Davy nodded and with a bang of the gavel, Mike called the meeting adjourned.
Micky was grateful to have friends that were so willing to help him, but he was also determined to not have that operation either. All his life, Micky hated hospitals. His Dad and several other relatives had died in them and so he wanted nothing to do with them. He knew this fear was unreasonable, but couldn't help how he felt.
As his friends went their separate ways, Micky got up to make some tea for himself and began to plan how to get out of his predicament.

The next night the Monkees played at the Surf Club, Micky having drank enough hot tea to keep his voice strong through the first set. Still, by the time packed up, he could barely swallow. He tried not to let on but it the pain showed in his eyes and in his voice, which was little more than a squeak by now. On arriving home, Davy made another kettle of tea and Micky drank the whole thing, hoping for some relief.
The guys did get a break from Micky's snoring that night. Drinking a whole pot of tea before going to bed was perhaps not the brightest move he'd ever made, Micky thought to himself as he got up to use the bathroom-again. It seemed like every time he lay back down, he was up again in only a matter of minutes. He finally gave up all thoughts of sleep and went downstairs to lie on the couch. At least he was closer to the "comfort room" that way!

"Mick, wake up, it's after nine," called Mike as he nudged his sleeping friend. Micky cracked an eye open, surprised he'd managed to sleep a few hours in a row.
"You needed to wake me up to tell me that?" groused Micky with a yawn. "Tell me when it's after noon, then I might be awake." He closed his eyes again.
"No such luck, buddy," chuckled Mike. "Why are you sleeping on the couch, anyway?"
With a warm face, Micky explained his predicament in a low voice.
"At least I wasn't keeping you all awake," he finished. "But I am not drinking that much tea before bed ever again."
Mike tried to keep a straight face but it wasn't easy, "Okay, shotgun, I hate to tell you but we need to discuss jobs."
"Jobs?" repeated Micky.
"Yeah. We're all gonna have to find some extra work to help with the expenses, even if our families help us. Come on, I've got the want ads from the paper at the table. Peter and Davy will be down in a minute." Micky could only nod. There was no way he was going to go under a surgeon's knife, but he wasn't about to tell his friends that now. He felt bad they were going through so much trouble for him, but knew he had to play along until the day of the surgery came.
Soon all the boys were assembled at the table for a breakfast meeting. Mike pounded the table with the gavel with one hand while eating cereal with his other hand. "Hear ye, hear ye, this meeting has been called because with future expenses coming up, we're going to need some money. I will hand each of you gentlemen a section of the want ads. Please look over them and see if there's something you'd like to do."
Peter looked at the page and immediately an ad stood out for a door-to-door toy salesman.
Davy circled one for ticket-taker at an amusement park.
Mike spied an ad for a substitute music teacher at the junior high school.
Micky was having a rougher time. Most of the jobs that looked interesting to him would require a lot of talking, something Micky ordinarily loved to do, but he knew he needed to save his voice. Suddenly, one classified caught his eye: "Wanted: Mime for short gig. No experience necessary. Must be able to make funny expressions."
"Perfect!" everyone agreed.

"Let's hope we can make enough money in a week." Mike finished, banging the gavel on the table and spilling his cereal.
"Meeting adjourned." Mike said, trying to wipe up the spilled milk.

Once the breakfast dishes were put away, they got into the Monkeemobile and Mike dropped everyone at the places to apply for their jobs. Micky was the last to get out, and he had a sad look on his face.
"Don't worry, Micky." Mike said, "We'll get enough money."
"It's not that, Mike." Micky replied, "I'm scared of having the operation. I don't like hospitals either. My Dad died in one."
"I remember you telling me about your Dad." Mike answered, but you've got to have the operation. Otherwise, you might not be able to breathe soon."
"Maybe there's spray I can use..." Micky began.
"Micky, go apply for that job." Mike interrupted, then added gently, "I don't like operations either, but it's something that has to be done."
Micky just nodded and got out of the car. Mike watched him walk into the building and then drove away to his job application.

To Peter's great surprise, he was hired right away for his salesman job. The boss only asked one question:
"Do you like kids?"
"Yes, I was one myself once." Peter replied.
"You're hired."
Now Peter walked along the street with a large box of Chatty Patty dolls in his arms. Coming along the first house, Peter put down his box and knocked on the door. A six-foot body-builder with tattoos opened the door.
"Good morning, sir." Peter said, "Would you like to buy a doll for your daughter?"
"I don't have a daughter." The man replied gruffly.
"Would you like a doll for your son?" Peter persisted.
"I don’t have a son." The man answered.
"How about for you? All you do is pull the string..." Peter pulled the string.
"I'm hungry! WAAAA!!" Said the doll. "I want cupcakes and cookies and milk and apple pie..." The doll rambled on and on until the string went back into its back.
"Are you some kind of nut?" The man asked, then slammed the door.
With a sigh, Peter picked up the box and continued to the next house.
"I hope the others are having better luck." Peter thought to himself.

Davy walked over to the manager's office of Happy Land Amusement Park. Knocking on the door of the trailer, he went inside and saw a harried-looking man behind a desk.
"Can I help you?" He asked, shuffling papers as a phone rang next to him.
"You had an ad about a ticket-taker?" Davy asked.
"Yes I did." The man replied, "Can you count?"
"Of course." Davy replied, puzzled.
"You're hired." The man said, pulling out a blue apron and tossing it to Davy, "Go to the Scream-O-Rama and take the tickets."
"But..."
"Remember, nobody gets on without a ticket, now go!" The man said, answering the phone.
Suppressing a sigh, Davy left the trailer and went over to the scream-o-rama roller coaster, tying the apron around his waist as he did so.
The Scream-O-Rama was a large wooden coaster that snaked around in a figure eight and there was a line forming in front of the gate. Davy hurried over to the front.
"It's about time!" A man grumbled.
"Sorry, it's my first day." Davy smiled, "Tickets please!" He called to the crowd.
People handed Davy their tickets for the ride as they went over to the coaster. Another person operated the coaster.
All went well until a young boy tried to sneak past Davy as he was taking a ticket from another person.
"Hey, you can't get on without a ticket!" Davy said, grabbing the boy's shirt.
"Please, mister." The boy said, looking sad, "I don't have any money for a ticket."
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you on." Davy said sympathetically.
"Oh, let the boy have a ride." Someone called from the line.
"Yeah, it's only one ticket." Another person said.
Other people started saying the same thing. Davy wondered if the others were having a better day.

"I said, WHAT INSTRUMENT DO YOU PLAY?" The man shouted in Mike's ear.
"GUITAR!" Mike shouted back.
Mike and the other man, the school music teacher, were in the music room of the local junior high. Several students were warming up their tubas, horn and cellos and it made quite a racket.
"CAN YOU READ MUSIC?" The other man yelled at Mike.
"YES!" Mike replied.
"I NEED A REPLACEMENT FOR A WEEK WHILE I GO ON VACATION SO YOU'RE HIRED!" The man shouted.
"I'M FIRED?" Mike shouted back once again, "I HAVEN'T BEEN HIRED YET!"
"YOU GOT THE JOB!" The man yelled.
"THANK YOU!" Mike shouted, shaking the man's hand.
"SEE YOU IN A WEEK!" The man shouted, and walked out the door.
Mike turned to look at the group of twenty or so kids who were either tuning up or yelling at each other.
"CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?" Mike yelled at the group.
"Why are you yelling?" A boy asked Mike in a normal tone of voice, "We can hear you."
"Oh, ok." Mike said, picking up a baton and tapping it on the music stand in front of him.
The room quieted down and the kids looked at him with a mixture of distrust and amusement.
"Okay, my Name is Mike Nesmith and I'll be your substitute teacher for the week while Mr. Arrow is gone." Mike announced, "So I want you to treat me like you treated him, any questions?"
"Are you flammable?" A tough-looking kid asked from the back of the room. Several other kids giggled.
Mike ignored the question and looked at the music on the stand in front of him.
"Now, the first piece we're gonna do today is Beethoven's fifth symphony." Mike said, "Are you ready?"
"Yeah." The kids replied without much enthusiasm.
"Alright, one, two three..." Mike brought down his baton.
The noise that greeting Mike was nothing like what the famous composer had in mind.
"Um, let's try that again." Mike said, trying not to cringe.
The sound that came from the group sounded more like a car wreck than music. Mike shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears and wondered if the others were having a better day than he.

Micky went over to the office in the ad to apply for the mime's job. There were a few people in the office, and Micky went up to the receptionist.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
Micky decided to save his voice and began to act like a mime, climbing up an invisible ladder and trying to get out of an invisible box.
"You're applying for the mime job?" The receptionist asked.
Micky nodded yes.
The receptionist keyed the intercom on her desk.
"Mister Phipps, there's someone here for the Mime's job."
"You're kidding?" The man on the other side said, "I mean...ok, send him in."
The receptionist pointed to the door and Micky went inside.
"Hello, there." Mr. Phipps said as Micky closed the door. "So you want the mime job?"
Micky nodded yes and did the same routine he did for the receptionist outside. Mr. Phipps was impressed.
"Very good, young man. I need a mime for a week to advertise the grand opening of my children's museum. Can you do it?"
Micky smiled and nodded yes again.
"Don't you talk?" Mr. Phipps asked.
"I was trying to stay in character, sir." Micky whispered.
"Well you're hired. My receptionist will handle the details." Mr. Phipps replied.

Not long afterwards, Micky was dressed in black with white makeup on, doing his mime act in front of the children's museum. Several people, mostly adults, thought Micky was strange and gave him a wide berth as he did his routine. The kids, however, seemed to like him and laughed at his antics.
After awhile though, his throat began to hurt, even though he did little talking. During a break, Micky went to a coffee shop to get something hot for his throat.
"Coffee please." Micky told the guy behind the counter.
"I though mimes didn't talk." The guy replied.
"I'm on break." Micky said, paying for his coffee.
The coffee helped his throat a little. As he drank, he though about how he could get out of having the operation. He couldn't drink coffee all the time, the late night trips to the bathroom proved that. Still, Micky realized there would have to be a showdown with his friends.
Looking at his watch, Micky left the shop and went back to work.


Later that evening, Mike picked the others up from their jobs. From the looks on their faces, things did not go too well. When they were all in the kitchen, they took turns talking about their day.
"I had doors slammed in my face, dogs chase me and cars splash me." Peter said.
"I had kids kick me, jealous boyfriends want to beat me up for looking at their girls and I had to help clean the ride afterwards." Davy said, rubbing his shin.
"I'm still trying to get the ringing out of my ears." Mike complained.
Micky was sorry his friends went through all that to get money for him. Still, it sounded to him like his friends either quit or were fired, so they'd have to look for new jobs. No jobs=no money for his operation.
"How was your day, Micky?" Mike asked.
"Not bad," Micky whispered, "I did have a few dogs growl at me, but it wasn't bad."
"Sounds like you had a pretty good day." Peter replied.
"Yeah, but from what you three are saying, you probably got fired or quit." Micky answered.
"Oh no, I ended up selling the most tickets of all the rides." Davy replied. "I got promoted to hot dog seller."
"At the end of the day, I sold all my Chatty Patty dolls to a day care center." Peter replied, "The boss gave me a bonus for my good work."
"I made a lot of progress with the kids after we ditched the classical stuff and I taught them to play Johnny B Goode." Mike finished.
"So...we're all going back to work tomorrow?" Micky asked slowly.
"Yes, we're gonna get that money for you, Micky." Davy smiled.
Micky smiled back, but inside he was crying.

Despite a few troubles in the beginning, The Monkees made it through the rest of the week without any more problems.
Though Micky was still trying to find way of getting out of his surgery.
At the end of the week, it was pay day, and to the guys’ surprise, they each made a good amount of money, enough to take care of the operation.
To top things off, Mike’s Aunt Kate sent them a generous check.
"Well, looks like you can have your surgery Micky," said Davy.
"We have enough money to cover the hospital bill," said Mike.
"Isn't that great Micky?" asked Peter.
"It sure is guys," said Micky, pretending not to sound scared.

The guys took Micky to the hospital two days later.
He checked in with the receptionist at front, and was lead by an assistant to his room.
As the guys walked the floors, Davy could not help but notice the nurses and candy stripes.
"You know, I think my tonsils are acting up on me as well," said Davy.
Peter and Mike just laughed it off, while Micky seemed too nervous.
The guys hung around the hospital as the doctors were getting Micky prepared for his surgery early the next morning.
Finally, they all met up in Micky's room, who was already in his pajamas and in bed.
"Doctor told me I need a lot of rest today for the operation tomorrow," said Micky.
Just then the doctor came in.
"I'm sorry gentlemen, visiting hours are over, Micky needs to rest up," he said.
The guys the said goodnight to Micky, wished him luck on his surgery and left.
Micky then put his plan into action.

Later that night, he got up out of bed, poked his head out of his room and looked up and down the hall.
"Coast is clear," he said to himself.
Micky then quickly got dressed and walked out of his room, then down the hall. Luckily the night receptionist was on the phone and didn’t notice Micky racing out the front door.
He then rushed back to the pad, and saw from the back window that the place was dark and no one was downstairs.
He then crept into the house, and hid in a closet by the stairway.
Micky felt safe for a while when all of a sudden, he heard the front door open.
"You know, I hope Micky's ok at the hospital," said Davy, entering the pad.
"I'm sure he is," said Mike.
"Yeah, I couldn’t enjoying the movie, knowing Micky was missing it," said Peter, who was taking off his coat.
He then opened the closet door and Micky fell out. The guys looked down at the floor to their band mate.
"Hey fellas, miss me already?" Micky said with a laugh.
Just then, the phone rang. Mike went to answer it.
"Hell-o? It's ok Doctor, he's at the pad with us, thank you for calling," he said, then hung up the phone.
"Micky, what are you doing here at the pad hiding inside the closet?" Mike demanded as he walked back over to the others.
"Yeah, you should be resting up for your operation tomorrow." Peter added.
"I...um, forgot my lucky scarf." Micky smiled, pulling a scarf from the bottom of the closet and getting up.
"That's my scarf, Micky." Davy said, snatching it from the drummer.
"Oh it is? Well then...I guess I'll go back to the hospital." Micky said, edging toward the door. "Bye!"
Micky turned to run, but only got two steps when Mike, Peter and Davy grabbed Micky and pulled him over to the couch.
Pushing Micky onto the couch, Mike, Peter and Davy stood over Micky and glared at him.
"What's going on, Micky?" Mike asked, "You weren't really going to go back to the hospital, were you?"
"No, I wasn't." Micky replied, looking at the floor, "Anywhere but there."
"Why not, Micky?" Davy asked this time, "We made all the arrangements, worked extra jobs for you, and you run away?"
"And to think I wasn't enjoying the movie, because you weren't with us, thinking you were all by yourself in the hospital." Peter said, a hurt look on his face.
"What do you have to say for yourself, Micky?" Mike demanded.
"I...just can't go through with the operation." Micky said, his throat starting to hurt again. "I'm sorry, I really appreciate what you three did for me, but I'm not going to the hospital."
Mike sat down next to Micky.
"We know what happened to your Dad, Micky." He said, "And your Aunt, and your cousin. But do you really want to suffer like you are now with your throat?"
"I had my tonsils out when I was seven." Davy added, "The hospitals in England were nowhere as nice or modern as they are today, yet I came out of surgery just fine."
"But you said when your mother was dying, she chose to die at home instead of in a hospital." Micky responded.
"True, but it wasn't because of the care she had received." Davy replied, "She wanted to be with her family."
"You're not going to die, Micky." Peter said, sitting down on the other side of Micky, "I won't let you."
Micky had to laugh at that, then began to cough.
Davy got Micky a glass of water. When Micky's coughing subsided, he looked at his friends.
"Okay, I'll go back." He said, "I'll get it over and done with."
"It's too late now, so we'll drive you back tomorrow morning." Mike said.
Micky got up and went upstairs and into his bedroom. When Mike heard the door close, he went over to the phone and made a phone call.

A little while later, Micky's throat began to hurt again and he decided to go downstairs for some tea. He was on the landing of the stairs when he overheard his three friends talking downstairs in the kitchen. It sounded like they were discussing past illnesses. Micky stood very still and listened to what they were saying.
"I had my hand in a cast for a month after I fell off my bike." Mike said, "I was lucky I didn't need surgery."
"What about you, Peter?" Davy asked, "Didn't you have your tonsils out like I did?"
"Yeah, I was about eight or nine when my tonsils got infected." Peter said, then paused. "Don't say anything to Micky, but I almost bled to death during my surgery."
Micky's mouth nearly hit the floor when he heard that.
"What happened?" Mike asked quietly.
"My Mom said a major vein going to my brain was near the tonsils." Peter replied quietly. "Usually that vein is in another area of the mouth in other people, but with me it wasn't. When the doctor snipped the tonsil, he nicked the vein and it started to bleed. But he was able to stitch me up quickly and I lived, though I had to spend an extra day in the hospital to get a blood transfusion."
"Wow, what a story, Peter." Mike replied.
"The doctor said what happened to me was very rare." Peter said, "I didn't like hospitals for a long time afterwards, but I realized it wasn't their fault."
Micky stood at the top of the steps with both hands over his mouth, and his eyes wide. This was all the proof he needed not to go through with his operation. Micky didn't care if he had to live the rest of his life in pain, but he would never step foot in a hospital again for any reason.
Mike, Peter and Davy cleaned up the kitchen and then started to make their way to their bedrooms. Micky ducked inside his room again and jumped into bed just as Mike walked in. Mike checked to make sure Micky was asleep, then went to sleep himself.
Micky was far from asleep. He laid awake, figuring out how to escape and where he could hide.

Micky waited until he could hear Mike's gentle snoring. He wished he could sleep so peacefully. Sitting up in bed, he put his desperate plan into action.
The drummer picked up his blanket and gently walked across the room to Mike's bed. Taking a deep breath, Micky threw his blanket over Mike and began to wrap it around him.
Mike was half-asleep and didn't realize what was going on until Micky had his arms pinned to his sides.
"Micky, what are you...?" Mike began, but got no further because Micky stuffed Mike's wool hat into his mouth.
Mike struggled, but Micky rolled Mike onto his stomach and wrapped the rest of his blanket around him, then grabbed Mike's own blanket and wrapped it around Mike's legs.
"I'm sorry to do this to you, Mike." Micky whispered, "But I heard what Peter said tonight about his operation. I won't take that chance."
Mike glared at Micky and shook his head. Micky went back over to his side of the room, threw on some clothes and then pulled the bed sheet from his bed. Tying one end to the end of his bed, Micky tossed the rest of the bed sheet out of the window near his bed, climbed out, and lowered himself down to the ground. He only took one step...and suddenly fell into a hole in the ground!
"Ahhh!" Micky cried.
Peter and Davy heard the noise and rushed over to their window near the hole.
"You were right, Davy." Peter said, "He really did try to escape."
Davy and Peter climbed out of their window and jumped into the hole with Micky.
"I don't believe you did this." Micky said.
"We don't believe you would try to escape after what we told you, Micky." Peter replied.
"I wasn't going to until I overheard you talk about your operation, Peter." Micky replied.
"Hey, where's Mike?" Davy asked.
"Right here." Mike said, walking over to the edge of the hole. He had his blanket plus a rope with him. "Micky tried to wrap me up like a cocoon, so if he wants to play butterfly, let's oblige him."

The admissions nurse at the hospital nearly dropped her coffee at the sight that greeted her when the door opened.
A very unhappy-looking man wrapped up in a blanket and tied with rope was being wheeled over to her desk by three other men.
"Is he going to the psychiatric ward?" The nurse asked.
"No ma'am." Peter said, "This is Micky Dolenz. He left the hospital last night before his surgery and we’re bringing him back today."
The nurse looked on her list of admissions.
"Yes, I have it listed here. The surgery was pushed back to this afternoon because of that. I'll call pre-op so they can get him ready."
"Thank you, nurse." Davy replied.
Just then, a woman walked into admissions. She saw Micky all wrapped up in the blanket and rushed over to him.
"Micky!" She cried.
"Hi Mom." Micky replied, looking at the floor.
"Hi Mrs. Dolenz." Mike said, "I'm glad you were able to come down here."
"Thank you for calling me last night." Mrs. Dolenz replied, "Micky had complained to me about his throat a few weeks ago, so I figured it might be his tonsils." She looked down at her son, "I also see he has been giving you three a rough time."
"You could say that." Davy replied dryly.
Micky's Mom knelt down in front of Micky's wheelchair.
"You should be ashamed of yourself for giving your friends so much trouble Micky." She chided.
"I appreciate what they've done for me, getting the money and all that." Micky replied, "But I don't want the operation. Dad died in this hospital, and so did my cousin Vonda and a few others."
"I know, honey." His mom replied, "But do you realize that you and your sisters were also born here?"
Micky looked at his mom. "Yeah, so what?"
"People do die in hospitals, but new life starts here as well." Mrs. Dolenz continued. "People who are sick come here and leave in better health. Don't see this hospital as a place of death, but of life."
Micky looked back at the floor, taking in what his mom had said. She brushed back Micky's curly hair.
"Remember cousin Eddie? He had pneumonia, and was taken to this hospital, and he's fine today. This is a place for people to get well." Mrs. Dolenz said.
"What do you say, Micky?" Peter asked, patting Micky on the shoulder.
"I say, let's have the operation." Micky smiled.
"Hooray!" Everyone said, including the admissions nurse.
Micky's mom untied the blanket and rope around her son. Micky stood up and gave his Mom a hug.
Another nurse came into the room.
"Mister Dolenz? Your room is ready." She said.
Micky shook hands with his friends and then sat down in the wheelchair once again.
"Take Care, Micky." Davy, Mike and Peter said.
"Can I stay with my son?" Mrs. Dolenz asked.
"Of course." The nurse said, "And his friends can wait for him in the post-op waiting room when he has the operation."
The nurse took charge of Micky's wheelchair and wheeled him though a set of double doors, Micky's mom following behind. Micky's friends breathed a big sigh of relief.

After awhile, Mike, Peter and Davy were allowed up to Micky's room. Micky was lying in bed with an IV in his arm. His Mom was sitting next to him.
"No last-minute escape attempts?" Davy joked.
Micky shook his head. "No, I'm going through with it."
Not long afterwards, two nurses came in to transport Micky to the operating room. Micky's Mom gave him a kiss, while the other three Monkees shook his hand. Peter had tears in his eyes as Micky was wheeled away. When Micky was gone, his Mom and Mike, Peter and Davy went to the post-op waiting room.

Time seemed to crawl as they waited for word of Micky. There were other nervous-looking people in the room too waiting for word about their loved ones.
"What's taking so long?" Mike asked for the 100th time as he paced around the room.
"He'll be fine, Mike." Peter said, who was sitting next to Mrs. Dolenz.
Micky's Mom had her hands folded in her lap and appeared to be praying. Davy, sitting on the other side of her, patted her hands. She smiled at him in gratitude.
After a little less than an hour, Dr. Patel came into the room and was almost tackled by the three Monkees.
"How is he, doc?" Davy asked.
"Micky is fine, the operation was a complete success." Dr. Patel smiled.
Mike, Peter and Davy gave the doctor a group hug.
"When can we see him, Doctor?" Mrs. Dolenz asked.
"He's in post-op coming out of the anesthesia." Dr. Patel answered. "When he's fully awake, then you can visit."
"Will this stop his snoring now, Doctor?" Mike asked.
"Perhaps not totally, but he won't sound like a freight train anymore." The doctor smiled. "His tonsils will no longer be blocking his airway."
"Great, maybe we all can get some sleep now." Peter said.
Everyone laughed and thanked the doctor once again. Doctor Patel left the room to get ready for another surgery.

After another long wait, Mrs. Dolenz and the other Monkees were directed up to Micky's room.
Micky opened his eyes when he heard someone walking over to him. He smiled brightly upon seeing his Mom and friends.
"Hi sweetheart." Micky's Mom said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
"How ya doing, Micky?" Mike asked.
Micky opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Don't talk, honey." Mrs. Dolenz said, "I'm sure your throat is real sore right now."
Micky nodded yes.
"You just relax and take it easy, Micky." Peter said, "You're going to be fine."
Micky mouthed 'thank you'.

Two days later, Micky was released from the hospital. His Mom and the other three Monkees came to bring him back to the pad.
"You sure you want to go home, Micky?" Davy asked, as an escort wheeled him to the entrance. "There's some beautiful nurses working here."
"I'm sure, Davy." Micky said in a quiet voice. He was feeling a lot better, but his voice was still weak.
Mike brought the Monkeemobile around and Micky got in while Davy and Peter loaded all the flowers and other gifts Micky had received into the car.
"Babbit even gave you a present Micky." Peter told him.
"What's that?" Micky asked.
"He gave us another week to pay the rent."
"Good thing we have a little bit left over after paying the hospital bill." Davy said.
"If you need help with the rent, I can help out." Mrs. Dolenz said.
"Oh we couldn't..." Peter began.
"It's the least I can do after all you've done for Micky." She replied. "You've shown that you're true friends to him."
Micky just nodded in agreement, too overcome with emotion to speak.

That night, everyone got into bed, thankful to finally be together again and have a quiet night's sleep. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, like a freight train coming through the pad! Mike looked over at Micky, who was up and looking at him.
"Oh no." Mike muttered. "Not again."
The noise still went on, so they rushed down the steps and into Davy and Peter's room. There they found a sheepish Peter trying to turn off his tape recorder. Finally, he did and there was quiet once again.
"I'm sorry, guys." Peter said, I bumped the on button while trying to put it away."
Micky, Mike and Davy began throwing pillows at Peter.

The End