It's a beautiful afternoon as the Monkeemobile is pulled to a stop outside the airport. That's it.

Mike: (helping Davy take his luggage out of the car) Hey Davy man, I wish we were going with you.
Micky: (stepping out of the car) Yeah. And hey, I'm really sorry about your aunt getting killed and all.
Davy: To tell you the truth fellas, I never really liked my aunt Lanta. Still, my uncle's taking it pretty hard, especially considering how she was killed.

The four start to walk to the gate.

Micky: Yeah, who knew a person could get killed using the toilet.
Mike: Micky, she stuck her head in and flushed it!
Peter: (solemnly) I know. Many people try, only a few survive. I consider myself one of the lucky ones.
Mike: (stops walking and gives Pete a pained expression) Huh? Peter, what in the world are you talking about? You've never flushed your head down the toilet!
Peter: (looking insulted) Hey! I've been flushing my head down the toilet since I was 15 years old!
Davy: (wiping a tear) Fellas, can we stop talking about this please! I'm starting to get choked up, picturing my poor aunt Lanta with her poor little head swallowed up by the toilet. You know, she was stuck there for 3 whole days before she... (insert dramatic pause here; perhaps some music) ...died.
Mike: (incredulously) How on earth did she hold her breath for 3 whole days?!
Davy: (matter-of-factly) Well, she was a Capricorn.
Mike: (nodding his head) Oh, I get it.
Micky: (patting Davy on the back) Hey, they're calling your flight Davy, you'd better board the plane now.
Davy: Well, fellas, this is it. I'll be gone for a whole week. Yup. You won't see me for seven whole days. Is there anything you want to say to me before I go?
Mike: Nope, not that I can think of. Pete?
Peter: Umm...no not really. How about you, Mick?
Micky: Yeah. If they have an open casket could you take some pictures? I've always wondered what a head looked like after it's been in the toilet for 3 days.
Peter: (shocked) Micky! That's not at all polite.
Micky: Oh, sorry. I meant to say bye, it just came out wrong.
Davy: (walking towards the plane) Fine. See ya fellas. I'll write everyday! And I'll send you some pictures so you'll remember what I look like. (insert bad Italian accent here) I willa never forget you!

2 days later, back at the Monkees pad...
Mike is sitting on the couch combing his hat. Peter is standing in the kitchen holding his breath. Micky is sitting at the breakfast table timing him.

Micky: Okay, Pete, you're doing great! C'mon, just a little longer!
Peter: (turning a groovy shade of blue, let's out his breath and gasps for air) That... had... to be... a record! What... was my... time?
Micky: (checking watch) Umm...6.3 seconds. Sorry big Pete, but you need to practice hard if you wanna beat the record of 3 days.
Peter: (with determination) I will never give up! Someday, I will be the ultimate "Flushing Your Own Damn Fool Head Down the Toilet" champion!
Mike: (looking up from his hat and giving Peter an annoyed look) Aww, man, you're talking like this sort of a thing is a sport or somethin'. You're delusional Pete. The only people on the planet who would flush their heads down the toilet are Davy's crazy aunt and you, shotgun!
Peter: (giving Mike an indignant look) That's not true! Lots of people do it! They even hold yearly championships. I've always dreamed of competing in the Tidy Bowl, and by golly, I will!
Mike: (turning to Micky and rolling his eyes) Hey Mick, I thought I told you to hide those Flintstones vitamins where Peter couldn't find them. He must have swallowed the whole bottle!

Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Micky answers it and sees Davy standing there with a suitcase in each hand.

Micky: Hey Davy! Why are you back so soon? It's only been two days.
Davy: (walking into the pad and setting his luggage down) Yeah, I know. But it turns out that my aunt Lanta wasnít dead after all. She was only hibernating.
Mike: (perplexed) Hibernating! How could she hibernate? People don't hibernate!
Davy: (looking at Mike as if he'd just grown another wool hat) She's a Capricorn.
Mike: Oh yeah, I forgot. Sorry.
Davy: Anyway, apparently there's some sort of sport where people stick their heads down the toilet and flush it, and she was invited to compete at the Tidy Bowl. That's the championship, you know.
Micky: (looking at Davy as if he'd grown another eyebrow) You've got to be kidding me!
Davy: No, it's true. She even won! She's a hero back in Manchester now. Before she was just another head flushing loony. As you can imagine, my uncle has never been prouder.
Davy: (looking around the room) Hey, where's Pete?

Mike and Micky exchange glances. Mike groans and stands up

Mike: Micky, I'll get the towels and plunger, you grab the timer. If Peter's gonna keep flushing his head down the toilet, we might as well see how good he is at it.