THIS IS THE WAY IT HAPPENED...

It had been a warm and sunny day in southern California. The people inhabiting the slightly dilapidated beach house had been taking full advantage of the climate all day. The activity didn't finally start to wind down until late in the afternoon.

Mike Nesmith was sitting at the kitchen table as he carefully studied the classified ads. After a few moments of reading, one ad in particular caught his eye. With an interested squeak, he sat up quickly and spread the newspaper out onto the table.

As he was reading the ad, something flew past his face and landed directly in the way. He looked down at the intrusion, which he discovered were a pair of ruby red tickets. He knew that they had to have come from somewhere, so he glanced upward to see his friend and room mate, Peter Tork, smiling back at him.

"Peter, what are you up to?"

Peter thought about it for a long moment before he answered.

"Nothing.... Well... um... I've got an extra ticket to the carnival tonight and I thought that you might like to go."

"You know I don't go for that stuff. You should ask Micky or Davy."

"Please, Mike. I asked Micky and he said that he already had plans ...so I asked Davy and he said that he has a date."

"So after them you came to me?"

"No. I asked Jude at the record shop, Lydia down the street, my cousin Bob's ex-girlfriend Wendy's sister Julia's pool guy Jack's assistant Jose, that guy who fixed our toilet last week, some girl I...."

"Okay, Okay, I get the idea. But, I don't know."

"It'll be fun!"

"I don't really..."

"Please! Please! Plleeeassee!!"

"Look, Pete, I don't want to seem ungrateful...."

Peter let out a sad sniff, loud enough to cut Mike off mid-sentence.

"Aw, now, don't cry."

Peter adopted a pitiful expression and let out a few more sniffs.

"All right, I'll go to the carnival with you. Just don't cry."

Peter instantly lit up again, smiling from ear to ear. He looked down at Mike and without hesitation, gave him a big hug.

"Oh, thank you, thank you. You won't regret it."

Less than an hour later, Mike and Peter were standing outside of the carnival, tickets in hand. They stood there staring up at the flashing lights with an almost child like awe. Mike knew that he had made the right decision. They probably would have stood like that all night had the girl taking ticking not interrupted them.

"Next please!"

Mike walked up to the girl and handed her his ticket. She looked up and smiled, more at his wool hat than anything.

"Enjoy your visit, sir."

"Thank you, ma'am."

The girl was still smiling when Peter handed her his ticket.

"Here ya go."

She shyly pushed her stray hair out of her face as she looked up at him.

"Thank you...."

"Peter. My name's Peter."

"I'm Laura."

"It was nice meeting you, Laura."

"Same here. "

He smiled at her, then went to go join Mike. Once they were a few feet away from Laura, Mike turned to Peter.

"You should have asked her for her number."

"What kind of number?"

"Her phone number."

"Oh. You think she'd want to give it?"

"Yes... now go before that hairy guy in line gets it first."

Peter looked out towards Laura to see a very hairy person waiting in the line.

"Mike, man, I think that's a woman."

Mike squinted at hairy, trying to get a better look. After some anatomy examining, Mike could only come to one conclusion...

"Ew!"

Peter walked back over to Laura, and quietly stood beside her. He didn't say a word until Laura noticed that he was there.

"Hi Laura."

"Hi Peter... back so soon?"

"Yeah, I was... um... That is to say... uh... Can I get your phone number?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Give me your hand."

Peter stuck out his hand, and Laura wrote her name and number on his palm.

"There... now just don't wash that hand 'till you call me."

"Will do ...or not do."

Laura giggled, thinking he was trying to be funny. Peter smiled and nodded.

When Peter was little, his mother (knowing that her son was "special") once told him, "Son, when you're not sure what exactly's going on, just smile and nod. People like it when you smile and nod... and that will make it seem like you understand completely."

If there's one thing that Peter always did, it was follow his mother's advice... "Don't stick a fork in the toaster.", "Play nice and don't run with scissors.", "Don't eat yellow snow.", "I said 'Don't run with scissors!' ", "Be polite.", and the tried and true, "Don't play with that!".

Laura liked that he was smiling back at her. She patted his face.

"You're so cute."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"See that you do."

Peter nodded again and then scurried off to find Mike.

Peter found Mike at one of the booths, squirting water into the mouth of a plastic clown head. Peter sat down in the empty stool beside Mike, waiting on the game to be over. Mike had some fierce competition... four kids all under ten. The little boy on the far end was squirting everything except for the clown's mouth, the boy beside him was picking his nose instead of playing, the girl sitting beside Mike was squirting more water onto the clown's eye, and the boy on the other side of Peter had been winning until he decided that it'd be more fun to squirt the carnie. So, needless to say, Mike won.

The soaking wet carnie reached under the counter and produced a small polka dotted cloth dog. He sat it down in front of Mike.

"Win three more dogs and you can trade it in for better prize."

Mike and Peter looked up and noticed for the first time that there were large stuffed flamingos, which looked like they could be nearly as tall as Davy, hanging from the ceiling. The carnie saw them looking upward.

"No, no, boys... you've got to win 32 dogs before you can get one of dem birds. Four dogs gets you a larger dog."

The carnie reached under the counter again and produced another cloth dog, this one being an inch taller than Mike's. He sat it down in front of Peter. Peter reached out to touch the dog, but the carnie quickly put it back under the counter.

"So waddya say, boys?"

"That's a nice looking dog. And, the pink bird would look great in the living room. Don't ya think, Mike?"

"Hmmm... yeah, it would. But, I think we better look around before we spend all our money here."

Mike grabbed the cloth dog, then got off his stool. Peter followed. As they passed the various stands, carnies yelled their usual come-on's at them.

"Three rings for one dollar!"

"First dart is free!"

"Win your very own goldfish!"

Peter stopped to look at the goldfish, which were swimming in water dyed various colors... those that were still alive, that is. "Funny little fish," thought Peter as he watched a slightly bent fish float around the top of it's bowl. Mike noticed that Peter had stopped following him and turned around to get him before he blew all his money.

"What are you doing, Pete?"

"Watching the fish. I like fish."

A sleazy looking female carnie, who looked old enough to be Peter's grandmother, walked over to him.

"So you like fish?"

"Yeah."

"For a dollar, you could try to win a fish. "

She leaned over the counter, closer to him.

"Or, I'll give you all the fish you want if you and your friend give me something else."

Peter just smiled and nodded. The woman smiled, revealing that she was missing several of her front teeth.

Mike grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him away.

"What?! She was going to give me a fish."

"Um... We gotta keep moving if we want to see what all they've got here. Right?"

"I suppose so. Can we go back to the fish game later?"

"If we have time. Here..."

Mike handed the cloth dog to Peter.

"Oh, I couldn't take your dog."

"No, no... go ahead. He's yours."

Peter hugged the dog to him.

"Thank you."

They made the rounds of the carnival... prize winning pies on display, barnyard animals on steroids, greasy spoon restaurant stands that were diarrhea waiting to happen, ill inspected rides, and more rigged games.

Peter whispered to Mike, as best he could with all the noise.

"Do you think we'll make the people sad if we don't play their games?"

Mike shook his head "no", then added; "Just don't look them in the eyes."

Peter thought that a lot of the people at the carnival were scary looking, so he decided that it was best just to watch the ground in front of him... despite the questionable things that were lying on the dirt. Just as they were passing the haunted house, Mike stopped. Peter, still watching the ground, bumped into him.

"What are we stopped for? I think it's almost time for the pig races. Mike?"

Peter looked to where Mike was staring to see an ominous looking black tent.

"What's that?"

"I don't know... but I swear I didn't see it last time we passed by here."

They pushed their way through the crowded walkway to get closer to the tent. Now they could see that there was a sign out front that read "What You Want Is What You Get"

Without a word, Mike walked into the tent. Peter was a little scared of the tent, but he was more scared of the strange people around him... so in he followed.

At first, the tent seemed to be pitch black and empty, but once their eyes adjusted to the dark they could see that it was not empty. There was a rounded table sitting in the middle of the room with something on it.

A moment later, there was a loud "click" and the room filled with a red light. Mike and Peter jumped and nearly ran out of the tent before they realized that the light was coming from a crystal ball on the table. Sitting at the other end of the table was an old lady, dressed like a gypsy.

"Too much like a gypsy," thought Mike, who was now smiling. He knew that all of this was just going to be some fortune telling scam. But, what the heck, he might as well play along. It was either this or watch pigs run in a circle.

The old lady spoke, "I am Madam Zelda... please sit."

Mike and Peter sat down in the two chairs sitting at their side of the table.

"What is it that you want?"

"Well, ma'am, I'd rightly like to take a nap."

"And, I'd like world peace... and a banana split."

"No, I mean what you REALLY want for yourself."

"I would really really like to take a nap. This dark room you've got here just isn't helping."

Madam Zelda shook her head.

"Fine. Make things difficult on an old woman, Nesmith."

"But.... but... how did you know my na..."

"Madam Zelda knows all."

Mike and Peter looked at each other, then at Madam Zelda.

"So, you believe in Madam Zelda now, yes?"

Mike and Peter nodded "yes".

"Good. Now I begin. Nesmith, you live with your friends and yet you feel you are alone. You are envious when you see them with girlfriends. You wish you had someone of your own. You wish that you didn't always have to take care of your friends. You wish that you didn't have to worry every time a bill was due. You wish your house wasn't falling in around you. You wish that your band was the most famous band in the world. Am I close?"

"Um.... yeah."

"And, you, Thorkelson..."

Mike looked over at Peter.

"Thorkelson??"

Peter blushed, "It's a long story."

Madam Zelda flicked the crystal ball off and then back on quickly to get their attention.

"I continue now. You wish for a... banana split. This is no good."

She closed her eyes and concentrated.

"You want.... to be more independent. Ah, I see that you wish your band had groupies."

Mike looked at Peter again, surprised. Peter shrugged.

"Just a thought."

Madam Zelda went "ah-hem!" and the guys turned back to her.

"You also wish your band was famous. So famous, in fact, that your face is on every product imaginable."

" 'Scuse me, Ms. Zelda... but I don't see how you guessin' all this stuff is gonna make it happen."

"Guessing? I'll have you know that Madam Zelda does not guess, she knows. Now that you've revealed what you want... you can be on your way."

"But...."

"Good day, gentlemen."

Madam Zelda switched off the light, leaving Mike and Peter in the dark again. They felt their way to the opening in the tent and exited back out into the crowded walkway... totally confused about what just happened.

THIS IS THE OTHER WAY IT HAPPENED...

It has been a warm and sunny day in southern California. The people working at the over crowded television studio had no idea what the climate had been all day. The filming didn't finally start to wind down until late in the afternoon.

Mike Nesmith was sitting at the snack table as he absently flipped through a magazine. After a few moments of scanning, one article in particular caught his eye. With a disgusted grunt, he sat up slowly and held the magazine down onto the table.

As he was reading the article, something flew past his face and landed directly in the way. He looked down at the intrusion, which he discovered were a pair of sky blue tickets. He knew that they had to have come from somewhere, so he glanced upward to see his coworker and band mate, Peter Tork, smiling back at him.

"Peter, what are you doing this time?"

Peter didn't waste a moment before he answered.

"I've got an extra ticket to the carnival tonight and I wanted to see if you wanted to go with me."

"I don't want to go to the carnival with you. Ask someone else."

"C'mon, man, get that stick outta your ass and loosen up. Besides, I asked Micky and he said that he had better things to do ...so I asked Davy and he said to 'bugger off'.... whatever that means."

"So, after them you came to me, huh?"

"No. I asked like everybody else first. But, no go."

"Well, I don't want to go."

"It'll be fun!"

"Um.... No."

"Please, man, I wouldn't ask.... only it's like my horoscope said that something really bad would happen to me if I went out alone tonight."

"Then, don't go out."

"But... it's a free ticket.... to the carnival."

Mike sighed, "Okay, just give me one good reason why the hell I should go."

Peter sniffed thoughtfully.

"I think of it like this... you have two options. One, you can go home and pick up world war three where you left off at this morning. Or, you can go to the carnival with me, have a groovy time, and eat cotton candy until you get sick."

"Hmm... Well, when you put it like that.... All right, I'll go with you."

Peter's often-present smile promoted itself to an outright beam as he lit up. He looked down at Mike and without hesitation, blew a small smoke ring in his general direction.

"Remind me to introduce you to Miss Candy. You won't regret it."

Less than an hour later, Mike and Peter were standing outside the carnival tickets in hand. They barely noticed the flashing lights because they were too busy arguing over who was first in line. Mike knew that he had made the wrong decision... but, then he thought, he didn't really have a right decision to make.

They probably would have argued all night had the girl taking tickets not interrupted them.

"Next please!"

Mike walked up to the girl and handed her his ticket. She looked up and smiled, instantly recognizing him.

"En... Enjoy your visit... Mike."

"Sure."

The girl was still smiling and star struck when Peter handed her his ticket. "Here ya go, sweetie."

He pushed her stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. She blushed shyly at his touch, as she looked up at him.

"Thank you... Peter."

"Ah, so you know who I am?"

"Uh-huh."

He leaned closer to her, seemingly to kiss her. But, soon as their lips almost touched, he moved closer to her ear and whispered.

"Meet me here at eight o'clock. Okay?"

The girl couldn't make any words form, so she simply made a noise that resembled a high pitched "ek" and nodded in agreement.

He smiled at her, then went to go join Mike. Once they were a few feet away from the girl, Mike turned to Peter.

"You really are something."

"What do you mean?"

"Picking up chicks like that. Do you ever plan on asking her name?"

"No. She only wants me cause I'm famous."

"And, you're not one to deny a Torkaholic her fantasy, right?"

"You know it, man."

They walked together, looking at the various games and rides. Peter began to sniff in the air; he could smell something very sweet.

"Man, I gotta go find that smell... I'll be right back."

" 'k."

As Peter wandered off, Mike walked over to an empty stool and sat down. A loud "pop" emitted from behind him. He turned around just in time to see the carnie handing a young boy a cloth dog. The boy grabbed his dog and hopped off his stool. Once his feet hit the ground, he motioned for his friends (a boy who looked like a young Peter, a freckle faced girl, and a boy picking his nose) to follow him. The girl smiled when she saw Mike, he smiled back... but didn't really mean it.

No sooner than the kids were out of Mike's sight, Peter returned. In his left hand he was carrying a paper plate that once held a funnel cake, but now only held little more than a pile of powdered sugar. He was sucking the sugar off of the fingers of his right hand, when he walked up to Mike.

"Want some?"

Mike looked at the sweet smelling paper plate, and nodded. Peter grinned as he pulled a sugar-coated finger out of his mouth and held it out for Mike.

Mike shoved Peter's hand away, and laughed as he said, "You shit."

Peter tossed the paper plate down onto the counter behind Mike, spilling sugar everywhere.

"Say ...what d'ya wanna do now?"

"I don't know. I was thinking we could go watch the pig ra...."

Peter was cut-off mid sentence by a high pitched scream. He and Mike looked at each other and both exclaimed "Dammit!"

They took off running, hoping to blend in with the crowd before a dozen horny girls mauled them. It seemed to be safe amongst the large group of people milling about in front of the haunted house. But, a moment later "There they are!" could be heard from much too close.

"C'mon, Pete!"

Mike grabbed Peter by the hand and quickly ducked and dodged through the crowd, until all of a sudden he couldn't see a thing. It was dark and silent where they were. Mike didn't remember running into this place, and wished he was back outside with the rabid fans. He also didn't realize that he was still holding Peter's hand.

"Why, Mike, I never knew you felt that way."

Mike grunted and jerked his hand away from Peter. Peter giggled.

"Shhh!"

Peter looked around and noticed, apparently for the first time, that they were in complete dark and silence.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know."

A moment later, there was a loud "click" and the room filled with a blue light. Mike and Peter backed away, squinting into the light before they realized that it was coming from a crystal ball on a table. Sitting at the other end of the table was an old lady, dressed like a gypsy.

"Too much like a gypsy," thought Mike. He knew that all of this was going to be some fortune telling scam. Well, she better keep her hands out of his wallet.

The old lady spoke, "I am Madam Zelda... please sit."

Mike and Peter sat down in the two chairs sitting at their side of the table.

"What is it that you want?"

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Madam Zelda waggled her finger at him.

"Nuh-uh, keep your mind out of the gutter, son."

"But, you asked what I wanted."

Madam Zelda shook her head.

"Fine. Make things difficult on an old woman, Thorkelson ... you're almost as bad as the other Nesmith."

"How'd you know my name?"

"Madam Zelda knows all."

Mike and Peter looked at each other. Mike mouthed the words, "Other Nesmith?". Peter shrugged. They looked back at Madam Zelda. "So you believe in Madam Zelda now, yes?"

Mike and Peter nodded "yes".

"Good. Now I begin. Nesmith, you are an unhappy young man. You have too many personal obligations ... you work at work, you work at home. You want some time to yourself. You want some time when you don't have to worry with the responsibilities of family. You wish you were allowed to express yourself creatively. You want to be more of the leader, instead of someone else's forced follower. You wish that your band was a touch less famous. Am I close?"

"Um... yeah."

"And, you, Thorkelson... you wish for... this is no good. All I see is swirly colors."

She closed her eyes and concentrated.

"You wish you were able to walk outside without being mobbed by girls. You wish that your face wasn't on so many products. You would be willing to sacrifice fame for artistic freedom. Yes?"

"Yeah, but that's never gonna happen."

"Madam Zelda wouldn't be too sure. Now that you've revealed what you want... you can be on your way."

"But..."

"Good day, gentlemen."

Madam Zelda switched off the light, leaving Mike and Peter in the dark again. A gentle wind drifted past them, and opened a flap ... the exit. They walked back out into the crowded walkway... totally confused about what just happened.

A VERY STRANGE DAY, INDEED

All Mike wanted to do was sleep-in today. That had been the plan since he had stayed out much too late the night before at the carnival with Peter. It wasn't easy sleeping in a room with three other guys, and trying to sleep later than the others was near impossible. Luckily for Mike, though, it was actually quiet for once.

Despite his best efforts and the co-operating roommates, Mike was only half-asleep. The smell of women's perfume was much too strong to allow him to fall asleep again. Normally the bedroom smelt like socks and cheese, but it was actually decent smelling on this particular morning.

"Davy had a good time with what's-her-name," thought Mike. "Tracked half of her home, smells like."

He yawned and thought about getting up out of bed, or at least opening his eyes. But, he just didn't want to face the world yet. He could hear a quiet little murmur coming from another room.

"Can't Micky ever be quiet?"

He lay there, listening. Hoping to hear what was being said, but it was much too far away to be understandable. As he was trying to listen, he fell asleep.

The next thing he heard was a distant voice gently calling to him, "Mi-ike.... Mi-ike."

"Go away, Micky," Mike quietly mumbled.

His name continued to be called.

"Leave me alone."

Now the voice was louder. He felt a hand on his shoulder, forcefully shaking him.

"Micky, I said to leave me the he...."

Mike opened his eyes for the first time that morning and was staring straight into the face of a woman. He sat up quickly and looked around, wide-eyed and confused.

"Wh-Where am I?"

The woman gave him a concerned look, and gently rubbed his face with her hand.

"Shhh, it's okay. I think you were having a bad dream."

"What?"

She kissed him on the cheek.

"You're safe at home now."

From another part of the house, a baby began to cry. The woman sighed.

"Let me go check on him."

Mike could only just sit there. He had no idea where he was at nor who this woman was. The woman walked towards the doorway. Just as she was about to exit, she turned back around.

"You be all right?"

He knew that he wasn't anywhere near being all right, but he wanted to get rid of the woman so he could think. He nodded, then almost as an afterthought added, "Thank you."

Once the woman was gone, Mike tried his best to keep from having a full-blown panic attack. He hopped up out of bed and rushed over to the window, hoping to see something ... anything familiar outside. But, he didn't recognize a single thing.

"Okay, get a grip on yourself. There has got to be some explanation to all this."

He knew that he wouldn't be able to get any answers by standing at the window in his pajamas.

"Wait a minute, where are my pajamas?"

He looked down to see that he was wearing a t-shirt and boxers that he knew didn't belong to him. But, wearing some other guy's clothes were the least of his problems.

He looked around the room for some clue as to where he was, but there was very little to go on. Until, that is, he spotted a small framed picture that was sitting on the dresser. He picked up the picture and stared at it.

The picture was of Mike and the woman. He had his arm across her shoulders and she was holding his hand. What got his attention most about the picture was that the woman was very pregnant. He suddenly noticed that his ring had changed fingers sometime since last night ... and only one thing came to his mind.

"Oh, crap!"

Peter woke up to the sound of a shower running. When he first opened his eyes, he couldn't see clearly because he had the worst headache he'd ever remembered having. He would have just figured that he had eaten too many sweets at the carnival and had a sugar headache, but he really wasn't in a state of mind to think of such things.

The shower shut off, and with the absence of all that noise, Peter could actually think. He sat up and looked around and saw that he wasn't in the bedroom. Well, he was in some bedroom, but it wasn't the one he shared with his friends. It smelled funny too. Not unpleasant ... just different.

His mind was swimming and he felt funny all over. That's about the time he figured out that he didn't know where he was at and that the bed's sheet and some love beads were the only things he had on. It was all just terribly confusing to poor Peter. The situation would have been confusing to anybody, but Peter was the type who got confused while trying to tie his shoes... so this was more than he could handle. He started to sniff, and was just about ready to burst into tears, when the door opened and in walked the ticket girl from the carnival. Only now, she looked very different than the last time he'd seen her. She had an excessive amount of make up on, her hair was soaking wet from the shower, and her body was still damp so her clothes were clinging to her.

"Laura?"

"That's me. I didn't know I told you my name. But, I don't remember too much about what I might've said."

She smiled at him. He smiled, but wasn't quite sure why.

"I want to thank you for last night."

"Um .... you're welcome?"

"No, I mean it. Really. It's not every girl who gets shown a good time by the same guy she has posters of hanging by her bed."

"Oh."

He was so much more confused than he normally was, but didn't see the need to argue with the girl. Telling her that she's talking to the wrong guy, because he clearly remembered what he did last night ... and it wasn't sharing his bed with a pretty young woman. But, now he was in someone else's bed with a girl he didn't really know, staring at him with a look that made him uncomfortable. He was so nervous that he sneezed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I was just thinking that I don't have any place to be for another hour, so...."

He looked back at her blankly, clearly not understanding.

"So?"

"Wow, you really are as slow as you are on the show, aren't you? I think that's cute."

She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned closer to him, obviously intent on kissing. He decided at this point to just play along, it's not everyday that he's the one that gets the girl. He closed his eyes and moved to meet her kiss. Once their lips touched, Laura backed away again because he was keeping his mouth closed giving her a grandma kiss. She regarded him for a moment, trying to figure out why he was acting so differently. He continued to sit in his closed eyes, lips puckered, kissing position.

She just shrugged it off as him playing with her. She kissed him again, this time forcefully pushing her tongue into his mouth. He opened his eyes and nearly gagged as her tongue tried it's best to slide down his throat. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away.

"What are you doing?!"

"Trying to kiss you. Got a problem with that?"

"Yes... er... No. I don't know. I mean, I don't even know you."

"Don't know me? That didn't stop you last night."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now, do you want me to stop or not?"

"Um... well..."

She slid her hand up under his sheet.

"Whaddya say, huh?"

With the slightest movement of her hand, the few thoughts that he did have instantly vanished.

"Okay."

About an hour or so later, Peter could be found sound asleep in his bed. He was curled up on the bed with his arm around his pillow, like it was another person. He occasionally whispered things to the pillow, but it was just sleep talk, so it was neither audible nor understandable in any way. If he had been awake, he wouldn't be talking to his pillow... and he'd be even more less likely to kiss it (which he did) had he known that he was being watched and giggled at.

Just as he was about to give his pillow another big smooch, his alarm clock went off. Groggily, he rolled over, intent on silencing the intrusion to his sleep, but for some reason his bed was much smaller than he remembered it ever being and he rolled off right into the floor. The good news was that he knocked the alarm clock off the night stand in the process, ceasing it's noise ... the bad news, besides falling into the floor, was that he looked up to find Micky and Davy laughing at him.

Peter sat on the floor and stared up angrily at the other guys. He usually tried his best to avoid being angry, but sometimes enough was enough ... and being made fun of was definatly enough.

"Quit laughing!"

Micky and Davy instantly shut-up, they'd never heard Peter use quite that tone before.

"And what are you doing in my room anyway? How'd you get in here?"

"Your room? This is just as much our room as it is yours."

"Bull sh....."

For the first time, Peter looked around to see that he wasn't in his room ...at least not his room as he remembered it. Yet, there was something much too familiar about the room he was in.

Micky walked over and put his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Are you all right, man? You seem a little... out of it."

"No, I'm not all right. This is all just a bad dream. And, this room... it looks just like... just like... oh no. Please tell me I fell asleep on the set again."

"Set? What set?"

Peter put his head in his hands, trying to think and doing all he could to keep from yelling in frustration of not being able to figure it out. After a moment, he looked up again to the worried Micky and Davy.

"We all live in a house by the beach?"

"Yeah."

"Bob didn't put you up to this?"

"Bob who?"

"And, I'm the dummy, right?"

"Well, now, I wouldn't go that far."

"I would."

"Micky?!"

"Sorry... but, yeah, Peter ... you're the dummy."

Peter let out a long sigh.

"Okay, just one more thing.... who's older, me or Mike?"

"Mike, of course."

"Where's Mike at? I need to talk to him."

"Last I saw, he was downstairs pacing 'round in the living room ...muttering something about a wife."

"Good."

With a little help from Micky, Peter stood up and went off in search of Mike.

Davy whispered over to Micky, "Is everybody losing their minds?"

"Personally, I think it's something in the water."

Peter found Mike exactly where Davy had told him, pacing around in the living room. Davy and Micky weren't far behind, eager to see what would happen next.

"Mike, what's going on?"

"I dunno. 'Seems like we're on the show ...but for real, somehow."

"I don't feel stupid."

"We haven't changed ...just everybody and everything else far as I can tell. I need to find Phyllis."

Mike picked up the phone and dialed his home phone number. All he got in response was "we're sorry but the number you have tried to reach is no longer in service."

"Dammit... it won't go through."

"You sure you dialed it right?"

"Yeah, 664-57...."

Davy chucked.

"Nah, Mike, you know all numbers start with 555. It's like that everywhere... always has been."

"But, 555 is just a number they use...."

"...on tv shows," Peter finished.

"Right."

"Look, I don't know what you blokes are goin' on about, but I think that Micky and I agree that it's well past breakfast. So, we're gonna go sit at the table and eat some Rice Krispies."

Peter looked over at Mike and said, "K-E- double L..."

"...O double good."

This made them laugh, despite their situation.

Davy sighed, "Feel free to join us."

Mike got up from the kitchen table, after finishing off the best breakfast he could ever remember having, and started to pace around the living room. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what had happened. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him ... if it had happened to him, then maybe it had happened to Peter as well. But, how to find him? Of course, it was so simple.

"Hey....", he called out, but paused when he realized that he didn't know his wife's name.

"...um... Say, hey, honey, don't I have an address book around here some place?"

From the next room, she called back, "Sure, it's where you always keep it."

Mike rolled his eyes. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"I looked, it wasn't there."

A moment later his wife emerged from the bedroom, walked over to the telephone stand, opened its drawer and pulled Mike's address book out. She slapped it none too gently against his chest.

"Try not to be so helpless, Mike."

He took the book, and she stormed back off into the bedroom. He flipped through the book, and eventually found Peter's phone number scribbled in the margin of the page marked "D".

Peter was finally alone in the room feeling ...well... just generally feeling weird. Things never happened quite like THAT where he came from. After much rummaging through clothes he wouldn't wear in a million years, he finally found something he half-way liked, and had been in the process of getting dressed when the phone rang.

The phone rang quite a few times while he tried to find it. It was safely hidden away under a pile of dirty clothes, but luckily part of the pile had fallen and he could see the corner of the phone.

"Hello?"

It was, of course, Mike on the other end.

"Hey, Peter, man... something strange is going on."

"I know. I totally pegged Laura as being a decent girl... but..."

"Laura who?"

"The ticket girl from last night. She was here earlier and we... you know..."

"That doesn't sound like the Peter I know."

"Don't sound so surprised, Michael. Maybe I'm not the nice quiet little idiot that everybody thinks I am, after all."

"What's gotten into you?"

Peter was quiet for a long moment. Mike wondered if he was still there or not... or even if he had the right Peter.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Mike. It's just... I... I mean, it's so confusing. I go to sleep at home with you guys, and I wake up here. And, now, I'm starting to not even feel like myself. I have all these... thoughts. It's scary."

"Yeah, you with thoughts is a scary idea. Let's meet up before things get worse. Do you know where you're at?"

"I'm in a bedroom... it smells sort of like that record shop down the street that has the windows blacked out. That's all I know."

"Hmmm... I don't know where I'm at, either. Home I would imagine, but beyond that I have no idea. This whole thing is just crazy."

Mike thought for a moment as he looked through the address book.

"Peter, I think I have an idea. If I can get a hold of Micky ...and if he's not our Micky, but the other Micky... if there is another Micky, which I think there is another Micky because there's a Micky in my address book... then I can see if that Micky knows where you live and have him pick you up. Got that?"

"Um..."

"Just be ready to go... I'll find someone to get you."

After he hung up the phone, Mike set out on the quest to find someone who knew where Peter was at and would be willing to go get him. The Micky in question did happen to be the Micky that belonged to this particular world... and answered the phone much too chipper.

"Hell-llo."

"Hey, Micky, this is Mike."

"Nez-man, what's going on? It's not like you to call. They've canceled the show haven't they? Haven't they?! I'm much too pretty to be unemployed. "

"No, no... it's nothing like that."

"Oh.... I knew it was too good of an idea to be true. So, what do I owe the honor?"

"Peter wanted me to ask you if you'd mind going over and picking him up."

"Doctor says I shouldn't be lifting people. Or... does he want to date? Well, tell him I appreciate the thought, but I'm already spoken for."

"Cut it out, Micky... you know what I mean."

"Okay. But, why don't you pick him up?"

"Um... well... uh.... I can't cause, see, the lil' woman's taking the car all day."

"If she's taking the car, then how are you getting to the studio?"

"Huh?"

"Remember, Bob told us yesterday to come by and pick up the re-writes for next week's show. My how we forget so quickly."

"Oh... oh yeah. Think maybe while you're out getting Peter, you can get me too?"

"Don't ask for much, do ya? I'll do it this time... but don't make a habit of this, okay."

Peter hung up the phone and looked around triumphantly.

"Well, that takes care of that."

"Takes care of what?" asked Davy.

"I have a date, thank you very much."

"A date? With who? This I've got to see."

"Some chick named Laura."

He held out his hand so Davy could see his palm where Laura had written her name and phone number.

"Well I'll be... Hey, Mike, Peter's got a date."

Mike pretended to ignore Davy, but grumbled under his breath, "So what else is new?"

Micky was outside on the back porch, letting the air out of a float. Peter got up and walked outside with him. He stood beside Micky, then put his arm across his shoulders.

"Say, Micky... I know this is a long shot, but you guys wouldn't happen to have any... um..."

He mimicked toking on a joint, then winked.

"...you know."

Micky could only stare at him for a moment with a "surely you don't mean what I think you mean" look. Then, he realized that Peter was serious.

"Oh... um... Nah, man."

"Shit. Okay, well, you know a place around here where like a bunch of hippies hang out at?"

"Yeah, there's that record shop down the street, but..."

"Thanks."

"Mike... think you can give me a ride?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You've seen that car they drive. There is no way I'm getting in that thing. If we're stuck here, the second thing I do is paint over that damnable logo ...right after I get my own bedroom. If you wanna go so bad, drive your own fool self."

"But, I'm planning on not even being able to see straight when I leave that place."

Micky passed by, on his way to the icebox.

"Micky, buddy, how about giving your ol' pal Peter a ride to the record shop."

"Sure. When?"

"Now."

Micky was obviously less than enthusiastic to go, but wanted to help out his friend.

"Okay, let me put some shoes on. I'll meet you outside in a few minutes."

Micky stood on the front porch, waiting. Peter opened the door and was so happy to see Micky, he gave him a hug. Micky sniffed the air, then looked at Peter, knowingly.

"Starting a bit early today, eh?"

Peter smiled and nodded.

"That figures. Now, c'mon, we have to swing by Mike's and pick him up before we can go over to the studio."

"The studio?"

"Yes, the studio. Let's go."

Not too terribly long later, they were pulling up to Mike's house. His car was parked out front, with no sign that it had gone anywhere.

"Huh, look at that. Mike told me that the wife took the car... and there it sits."

"Who's wife?"

"Mike's wife."

"Mike's married?!"

"You know, Pete, this is none of my business... but I think you need to lay off that stuff, you're really starting to sound burnt out."

Peter thought that 'burnt out' was a funny sounding phrase, so he giggled.

"Okay, Micky.... burnt out."

Micky shook his head.

The first thing Peter did when he saw Mike was hug him.

Micky whispered over to Mike, "He's in one of those funny moods again."

Mike nodded, pretending that he knew what Micky was talking about.

Peter walked around the living room, looking at all of the various stuff... but mostly the few assorted pictures.

"Nice place you've got here, Mike."

"I know."

"Sure beats... uh... that other house."

Micky looked down at his watch.

"Guys... we really need to go."

"Don't you have time to stay for a few minutes... we have ice cream."

Mike's wife was standing in the doorway of one of the bedrooms, smiling. She walked over to Micky and hugged him. Then, she looked over at Mike, to see if he had a jealous expression or not. He didn't. So, she tried a little harder to annoy him with Peter. She hugged him much too closely to be mistaken for simply a friendly hug.

"Oh, Peter, I'm glad you came... it's been much too long since I last saw you."

She kissed him on the cheek. He blushed.

"Thank you... uh... thanks."

She let go of Peter and looked back over to Mike, who didn't seem to care in the least bit that she had been hanging onto Peter. The only one who seemed to care was Micky, who was just wondering if everybody had gone crazy. "Probably something in the water", he thought to himself.

"So, can you boys stay for some ice cream?"

"Well, we really need to..."

"Sure, we can... um... Mrs. Nesmith."

"Silly, don't call me Mrs.Nesmith... you'll make me feel old. Now let me go fix this up for ya'll."

Mike followed her into the kitchen and watched quietly as she tried to reach for some bowls, but they were on the top shelf, which was much too high for her. She turned around to grab a chair to stand on, but he stopped her, then easily got the bowls down for her.

"Thank you."

"What d'ya want me to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"To help. I want to help you."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do. I mean, I really want to help out."

She put her hand to his face.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. I just realized that it's neat having a wife... I don't feel so lonely cause I know you're there. And, I just want... I just want to... sort'a do stuff with you. Even simple things like getting bowls off the top shelf for you. It makes me feel... good."

She looked at him, not quite sure what to say. All she managed to come up with was, "Okay, we can do stuff."

Mike's wife handed Peter his bowl; he looked down and saw that there was a banana mixed in with the ice cream. She noticed him looking at it.

"Something told me that you wanted a banana split."

Very quietly, Peter said, "What you want is what you get."

Mike looked over at Peter soon as he heard him say that.

"Peter, you don't think...?"

"My mother always told me to be careful what I wished for."

"What's that supposed to mean?", asked Micky.

Peter could only giggle.

"I don't know... something I heard once."

"Well, it sounds nasty if you ask me."

Peter and Micky had returned from the record shop and were now in the living room. Peter was sprawled across the love seat, giggling at his own pointless stories. Micky was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling... wondering why anyone would nail plastic flowers up there... and if he took them down, would the ceiling fall in?

Davy walked into the room and said, "What's a matter with you two?"

Peter and Micky looked at each other and laughed.

"You're stoned, ain't ya?"

"We're not stoned, David... you are."

They laughed again.

Davy walked over to the kitchen area to find Mike, quietly reading yesterday's newspaper... and for the most part ignoring Davy again.

"You know what they're doing in there?!"

"Yep."

"Well, aren't you gonna say something?"

"Nope."

"But, Mr.Babbit'll surely throw us out... you're the only one who can talk some reason into them. "

"Uh-huh."

Mike really didn't hear a word Davy had said; he was busily looking for one particular section of the paper. He found it, and grumbled, "That idiot."

He got up from the table, paper in hand. He walked into the living room and threw the page he had been looking at onto Peter. Peter picked up the paper and squinted at it.

"Read that."

"What?"

Mike pointed to the horoscope section.

"That!"

"Um... 'It seems the time has come to try something new and exciting. Don't spend too long pondering it or the moment is liable to pass. Others may need convincing, but this is a time when you should listen to your heart as well as your head. The moon's position in your house today will prove disastrous if you go out with friends tonight. Stay at home or go out solo. Take extra caution when making a wishful thought.' So? Mike, I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Didn't you tell me that it said that something bad would happen if you went out alone?"

"Okay, so I misread it. Oops."

"Oops?! We're stuck here, and all you have to say is 'oops'?"

Davy stepping in between them. "Guys, what's going on around here? It's like you've all lost your minds. Mike... I'm sure whatever Peter did it, it couldn't have been that terrible."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"What's your hang-up about this place, man? I think it's great. We have no jobs, no responsibilities, nobody telling us what to do... and we're a band, for real. What's so wrong with that?"

"We don't have any money, this place is a dump... what water that does come out of the sink is rusty... the whole place is falling apart, if this is anything like the show there's probably gonna be some aliens or something running around any minute now... and, personally, I miss my family. Shall I go on?"

"No. I guess I'll start to miss my friends and stuff... but, still, these guys have an easy going life, I think it might be fun to be them for a while."

"A while, maybe... but not forever."

"What d'ya think the other guys are doing right now? I mean, if we're here... they've got to be somewhere."

"I never thought of that. I'd loved to have seen the other Peter when he woke up in your bedroom... if it's like I remember, it probably scared him to death."

Peter laughed, "That's nothing... the chick from the carnival was probably still there. And, Mike...?"

"I hope Phyllis didn't jump him too bad cause I left a big mess in the kitchen last night."

Davy stood there, listening but not understanding any of it.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

"Micky, can you help me out here? Micky?"

Micky was sound asleep on the floor. Davy was clearly getting aggravated.

"I gotta get out of here 'fore I go as loony as you all."

"Hey, now, don't talk to him like that!" Mike said in defense of his little buddy.

After too much ice cream, Micky had finally been able to take Mike and Peter to the studio. They had no idea what they were walking into. As soon as Peter saw that their house was only just a fictional set, he started crying. And, in truth, Mike felt the same way too... only he was the leader, so he had to be strong on the outside.

Peter was sitting on the love seat, boo-hooing away and asking Mike what all of this meant, when Bob walked in. Happy, he was not. He started yelling, mostly at Peter, about incompetence and showing up to the studio "in that state." Mike stepped in front of Bob, shoved him away from Peter, and said, "Hey, now, don't talk to him like that!"

"What are you gonna do, Mike? Break another wall, huh?"

"What? Oh... um... no. No, you just shouldn't... you know... come in here being like that is all, especially not to someone as nice as Peter."

"I don't care how nice he might be... look at him, crying his eyes out like that. You can't tell me that he's not dusted to the four corners. The suits come in here and see him like that, they won't allow him to be insured. If he's not insured, he can't work here. If he can't work... well, I think you know what'll happen to the show. But, I shouldn't have to remind you of that."

"Okay. Just give Micky what it is that we're here to pick up while I go talk to Pete. Then, we'll be out of here in two shakes... no need to worry."

"All right, c'mon Micky. And, Mike, I'm holding you responsible."

Micky followed Bob off the set. Mike walked over and sat down beside Peter.

"What 'cha thinking, shotgun?"

"I don't know what to think. Does this mean that we're not real? We're just some characters on a stupid show?"

"Well, I'm surely real. You can remember what you did all yesterday, right?"

"Yeah."

"See, tv shows aren't twenty-four hours long... proving that we're real. I don't know where we're at, but I don't want it to scare you any more than it has to. Just put this tv stuff out of your mind... it doesn't affect us at all. Okay?"

Peter nodded "ok" as he wiped his tears with his sleeve.

"But, what if they get canceled?"

"So what if they do? I bet this show hasn't been running our entire lives... and I remember back to being a little kid in Texas. We were here before them, and we'll be here after they're forgotten. Some silly show about us can't be that popular, anyway."

"Yeah, who'd want to watch a show about the Monkees?"

"Somebody sitting around watching a show about an unemployed band living in a ratty house... that's sad."

"How about making a show about an unemployed band living in a ratty house?"

Peter smiled at the thought of how ridiculous it was that someone would watch, much less make a show about them.

"See, it's not so bad, is it?"

"Thanks Mike... you always know how to cheer me up."

"No, no, no... What's a matter with you people?!"

The other guys stopped playing. Micky and Davy stared at Mike, while Peter sat down on the floor. Davy was the first to speak up.

"What's a matter with us? What's a matter with you? All of you... you've been acting crazy all day. Now we're trying to practice and you stop and ask what's the matter with us... the nerve."

Mike sighed and reminded himself that he had to remember that these weren't the same guys he'd played with before.

"Okay, Davy, man... all I'm saying is that you sound terrible."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Not that you guys aren't playing good or anything. In fact, it's the best I've ever heard. But, your songs are crap."

"This coming from the guy who writes about dogs."

"I didn't write that song."

"Yeah, you did, Mike."

Mike looked at Peter who nodded. Mike remembered that in this world, he did write that song.

"Ok, guilty... but, if we can play anything we want to... why are we doing this peppy bubblegum nonsense? Right, Peter?"

"Um... yeah, sure, Mike."

Davy dropped his tambourine, and kicked it across the multi-colored striped floor.

"I can't do this with you guys... not right now."

Davy stormed out of the rainbow room; he'd had enough of their attitude for one day.

Micky looked at Mike and Peter, then said, "I'll go talk to him... see if I can calm him down a bit."

Once Micky left, Peter said, "Some communication skills you've got there, Nez."

"Now don't you start. I've had all I can take of this house and these people. Tomorrow I'm taking everything that's not nailed down over to the pawn shop so I can get enough money to go back to Texas."

"I wouldn't do that... remember, here Texas is like the old west. No lights, no cars, no motorboats..."

"...not a single luxury. This is just getting worse by the minute."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Well, I would... and I just did," said a completely exhausted Mike.

Micky had been taking forever to return, so Mike and Peter had decided to explore a bit. But, almost as soon as they walked out of the studio, seemingly a million girls started to chase them. At first, they didn't know that the screaming and the running was directed towards them and they looked around to see what all the fuss was. But, they soon found out and took off in the opposite direction. They managed to make their way back into the studio, and found a solitary pseudo brick wall to lean against and attempt to catch their breath.

"You are your big... um... thoughts. You had to wish for groupies."

"I wished for a couple of pretty girls to hang around... not a crazed mob. I guess we're more popular than we thought."

"We're not popular... it's the guys who look like us who are. We're the innocent bystanders."

"There you are! I was just about to leave you."

Mike and Peter looked up to see Micky, standing in front of them like a father catching up to his kids who had wandered off.

"What happened to you guys?"

"Oh, it was awful, Micky... all these girls after us..."

"...grabbing at us..."

"If you'd have told me yesterday that I'd be running away from a bunch of girls who were grabbing at me... I wouldn't have believed ya."

"It's not nearly as nice an experience as I'd imagined."

"Me neither."

Micky halfway laughed.

"I thought you were used to that by now."

"How could you ever get used to that?!"

"You're right, Pete, you can't get used to it. Now are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Just drop Peter off at my house... he's staying over tonight."

"He is?"

"I am?"

Mike elbowed Peter, then said, "Yes, he is. The... um... uh... exterminator's gonna be spraying for bugs this afternoon at his place."

Micky shrugged, "Okay, whatever."

"It's not just 'whatever'. I don't want you think I'm mad or anything cause I'm not. It's just ever since this morning; they've been acting all weird. Mike's been an arse all day... hadn't said two words to me except to complain. And, Peter... well, Peter's just different. He's not being Peter, is wha' I'm saying. And, you go aggin' him on."

"No, man, I totally agree. Something's... I don't want to say wrong... but, yeah, something's wrong with them. But, they're two of my three best friends... so I just go along with them and hopefully it'll all sort out."

"They're my best friends, too... but I don't think I can take much more of this. If they keep it up, I mean."

"Maybe they're just having a bad day... it happens."

"Yeah, I hope that's all it is. But, they're having these little conversations about stuff that makes no sense and people I've never heard of. It's weird, man. I'm tellin' ya, it's just weird."

"What's so weird about it?"

"The way you two are so buddy-buddy all of a sudden. Did I miss something since yesterday?" Mike and Peter, who were sitting in the backseat of Micky's car, looked at each other, and both said "No." at the same time.

This, of course, made Micky more suspicious that they were up to something. He smiled and decided to joke around with them... mostly to annoy.

"Who are you and what've you done with Mike and Peter?"

They both opened their mouths to answer, but Micky cut them off with, "Quick, Mike, what's your wife's name?"

Of all the questions to ask, Mike still didn't know his wife's name. He looked to Peter for help, but knew that he didn't know either.

"Cut it out, Micky, you know her name."

"But, do you?"

"Quit it. This is dumb. Of course I know my own wife's name."

"Then, what is it?"

"It's... um... it's... uh..."

Then, something popped into Mike's mind... and for some reason seemed like the right thing to say.

"Shut-up and leave me alone."

Micky chuckled, "Now, there's the Mike Nesmith I know."

Peter put his hand on Mike's shoulder.

"Peace, Michael... no good ever came from angry words."

Mike looked at Peter as if to say "what?" Peter looked down and squinted his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, man, I just have this really bad headache all of a sudden. Like it's a migraine... but only worse."

"Did you just say the word 'migraine'?"

Mike walked into the living room to find Peter sitting indian style in the middle of the floor. He was looking down, eyes squinted, and rubbing his temples.

"You okay?"

"No.... I have a really bad headache, like a... um... uh... agh! I can't think of what'cha call it. I can't think of anything. Look at this!"

He stuck out his foot to show that his shoe was untied.

"It came untied and I can't tie it back. I tried, but I can't get it to go."

Mike actually felt sorry for him, so he bent down and tied Peter's shoe.

"There."

"Thanks. You know what this means don't you? I'm turning into him."

"Who?"

"The dumb Peter. First I can't think of big words, then I can't tie my shoe... before long I'm gonna be walking around with no sense at all. I don't think I can handle living in a permanent state of stupid."

"Don't worry about it... it's gonna turn out okay, Peter. I'm sure that all of this will just sort itself ou...." Mike stopped and looked disgusted with himself. "...that's something the other Mike would say, isn't it?"

Peter smiled, "At least I know I'm not alone."

"Huh?"

"I said, you never are alone when you have a friend around."

Mike was now the one who was confused.

"Peter, man, what are you talking about?"

"I dunno, just something I thought."

"Well, stop doing that for a minute. It's getting on my nerves."

Mike stood up and started pacing around the living room again, trying to think of some way they could get home. Peter stretched out across the couch and watched the pacing until he fell asleep.

Peter was awakened by a sharp kick in the side.

"Ow! Hey, cut it out."

"Well, wake up, then. You're supposed to be helping me figure a way to get home, not falling asleep while I'm talking."

"Sorry, Mike, but your one-sided conversation was SO riveting..."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, now what? Get that Peter."

"What's wrong with your legs? You get it."

"Enough, fellas, I'll get it," said Davy as he hurriedly walked to the door.

Davy opened the door to find a pretty young woman on the other side.

"Well, hello, there, gorgeous... what can I help ya with?"

"I'm here to see Peter. Is he here?"

Davy looked down, disappointed...

"Yeah, hold on."

He turned around to call Peter, but he was already standing there... waiting on Davy to move so he could get closer to the girl.

"I see her, Davy..."

He elbowed Davy out of the way, and quickly looked at his hand to remind himself of the girl's name.

"Ah, Laura, glad you made it."

This was the first chance he'd had to get a good look at Laura, and realize that she was the ticket girl from the carnival. He smiled, remembering what he could of the night before. Laura returned the smile, thinking he was smiling at her. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to kiss you... and... um..."

Davy stood, there not quite believing what he was seeing. Peter leaned closer to Laura and whispered something that Davy couldn't quite make out into her ear. Laura looked at Peter for a moment, then giggled and nodded "yes". Apparently the nod was an open invitation to whatever Peter had said because she let him not only kiss her but run his hands all over her as well... all this while still standing in the doorway. Davy was about to say something to the effect of them getting a room, but Peter stopped and turned to him.

"Don't you have someplace else to be, munchkin?"

"Munchkin?! Who ya callin' munchkin?!"

Mike stepped in between them.

"Now... now, hold on a minute there, Davy, before you get all riled up."

"But, he..."

"You don't want someone staring at you while you're kissing on your girl, do ya?"

"But, he didn't have to call me a munchkin."

Mike put his hand on Davy's shoulder and started to push him away from the door.

"Just leave 'em alone."

Once Mike and Davy were away from the door, Laura asked, "So, where do you want to go?"

"Go?"

"Yeah, go... this is a date."

Peter pretended to think on it for a moment, though he already knew the answer before she even asked the question.

"I was thinking we could stay in tonight."

"As opposed to?"

Mike's wife smiled up at him.

"Remember, John called last night and said he had to cancel. So, since we don't have any place to be, and Peter's staying over.... Why is he staying here?"

She looked over at the sleeping Peter.

"They're spraying for bugs at his place."

"Oh. Well, since he's here... and I don't want him left alone in my house... we could stay in."

Mike looked at her; still unable to get over the fact that he had a wife. He returned her smile, all the while feeling bad that he didn't know her name.

"Mike.... what's gotten into you today? You're not acting like yourself at all."

"Um.... I'm sorry?"

She reached up and put her arms around his neck.

"Oh, no, don't be. I like it."

She pulled him down a little closer to her level, and kissed him. His first reaction was to pull away from this strange woman kissing him... but then he thought that, hey, he's finally getting the girl... and she's his wife, so no harm in just kissing her.

"Mike, why's the bedroom door locked?"

Davy sat down beside Mike, who was flipping through the channels of the tv.

"Well, I dunno, Davy... Let's see who's missing... Micky's out watering that scraggily looking stick you guys call a flower. So, that leaves Peter and that girl... not here... and the door's locked. Hmmm...."

"You don't have to be all snippy wi' me, man. I was just askin' a simple question. And, I don't believe for one minute that he and that girl are in there."

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

"I'm not jealous... It's just that I've known Peter for a long time, and that's just not like him to go pick up a chick and take her back to his room, is all I'm sayin'. But, then, you guys have been acting all funny today... not funny ha-ha, the other kind."

Mike yawned. Not a real yawn, a big theatrical one that purposely looked fake to tell Davy he was disinterested.

Davy sighed, "You know, I've...."

"You've what?", came Peter's voice from behind them.

Davy turned around to see Peter leaning against the nearest wall, smoking and smiling.

"Peter?"

"You were expecting maybe Kirshner?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Oh, and don't let me interrupt."

Mike stood up.

"I think I'll be exiting now."

Mike left Peter and Davy alone in the living room. They waited until they heard him shut the door before saying anything.

"So, mate, what's goin' on?"

"Oh, a little of this... and a whole lotta that."

"You know what? Mike seemed to under the impression that you and the blond lady were in there... doin' stuff, ya know. Itn't that funny?"

"I suppose. But, what's even funnier is that we did it on your bed."

Davy could only stare at him... wondering who this was and what he'd done with Peter. Micky walked in from watering the flower, and noticed that neither Davy nor Peter were saying anything.

"Hey, guys, what's going on?"

Davy shook his head in an attempt to maybe get the thought of what Peter had said out of his mind... it didn't work.

"You don't even want to know, Micky. Peter just said... I don't want to think about it... much less repeat it."

"What's a matter?"

"I don't know. Davy's just upset cause I fucked some girl on his bed."

Davy and Micky couldn't believe that Peter just said that, and both questioned, "Peter?!" at the same time.

Peter shrugged and smiled... he so loved destroying his fictional character's nice image.

"What? I'm going outside... it's too square in here."

"Well, that was... different.", said Mike's wife.

She scowled over at him on the other side of the bed, clearly unhappy.

Mike sighed and thought to himself, "With my paranoia, I need this kind of abuse." Then, he went from feeling bad to feeling out right guilty about not knowing her name.

She could see how sad he looked all of a sudden, and for some odd reason actually felt bad for him.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

"Nah, it's all right."

"I know you haven't been feeling well all day. If you're not better by tomorrow, I'm taking you to the doctor."

"The doctor? I feel fine."

She kissed him.

"You don't have to pretend for me. I know when something's not quite right with you."

"Yeah." You have no idea how not right, thought Mike.

"Is there something on your mind?"

"Actually, there is. You see, I'm not...."

Mike was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door being frantically knocked on. He slid his pants on quickly and went to see what Peter wanted.

Almost as soon as Mike stuck his head out of the door, Peter said, "Mike... Mike... I figured it out!"

"Figured what out?"

"How to get home!"

Mike looked back around to make sure that his wife didn't hear that. She didn't seem to be paying any attention, so he walked out of the room... shutting the door behind himself.

"Okay, so how do we get home?"

"We wish."

"Wish?"

"That's what got us into this mess."

"That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Peter leaned against the railing of the porch and looked out at the ocean.

"It's worth a try... do you want to stay here any longer?"

"No. One day in this house is more than enough for me."

"That is to say, I like having a wife... but I'd rather it be someone I pick, not just some stranger. 'Oh, by the way, you're married' ain't gonna cut with me. So, how do we do this?"

"Just wish very hard that you want to be back home. And, hopefully it'll work."

"Okay."

"No, wish like you mean it."

"I do mean it... but this is... idiotic."

"Just do it, man. I don't want to end up retarded by morning."

Mike and Peter looked around, expecting to be back home... but instead they were still standing outside the bedroom door.

"Okay, so now what?"

"Maybe it takes time. At least, I hope that's all the problem is."

"This has been a very long day... so I'm gonna get some sleep. Maybe in the morning one of us will come up with a Plan B."

"Yeah, well, sorry Plan A didn't work out."

"At least you tried. Good night."

"Good night, Mike."

Mike went back into the bedroom, and curled up under the blankets beside his wife.

"Going to sleep already? I'd have thought you and Peter would be up half the night."

"You were right, I don't feel well at all. So, I'm just gonna lay here and let this day be over with."

"Okay. See you in the morning, Mike."

She kissed him.

"'Night.... dear."

Peter pulled his sheet up to his chin and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Not about how to get home or anything important like that, but just random stuff. He was starting to remember things that he didn't think had ever happened to him. He could remember people that he didn't know, places he'd never been, and things he'd never done. He closed his eyes and hoped to fall asleep quickly so he wouldn't think anymore.

"I can't hear myself think, much less sleep!", grumbled Davy loudly from up under his pillow, where he had his head tucked under.

Davy had refused to sleep in his bed, so he was now in Mike's bed... Mike was in Peter's bed... Peter and Laura were in Davy's bed... and Micky was sleeping soundly in his own bed. Davy was trying his best to sleep, but Peter and Mike both had their lamps on and were sharing a bag of pretzels that they'd found in the kitchen cabinet. The crunching and talking were just about to drive Davy crazy.

And, if that weren't enough, Laura had fallen asleep sitting up and was leaning against Peter, snoring. He had one arm around her and the other fishing into the pretzel bag.

They both ignored Davy's protests for silence, and kept on talking about their plans on how they were going to change the house.

Davy grabbed his pillow and left the room in search of a quiet corner to rest in. As soon as Davy was gone, Mike and Peter cut off their lamps, and went to sleep.

A NOT SO STRANGE DAY

All Mike wanted to do was sleep, he figured that if he had to live in this cursed fictional world, he'd sleep as much of it away as possible. He sniffed the air and didn't smell the socks and cheese that'd he'd had to suffer with the night before... it was a woman's perfume.

"Mi-ke... Mi-ke...", came a soft voice.

He opened his eyes to see his wife looking back at him. He sat up quickly and threw his arms around her, hugging her so tightly she had to push him away so she could breath.

"Oh, Phyllis... I'm so glad to see you."

She put her hand on his forehead.

"Are you feeling okay. Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yeah... the worst dream ever. But, I'm back home now."

Peter woke up to the sound of a shower running. He opened his eyes and looked around to see that he was back in his own bedroom... then his hangover kicked in.

"Oh, great.", he mumbled.

Laura walked into the bedroom, still wet from the shower.

"Laura?"

"That's me. I didn't know I told you my name. But, I don't remember too much about what I might've said."

She smiled at him. He didn't return the smile, his headache hurt too much.

"I want to thank you for last night."

"Um .... you're welcome?", Peter answered, thinking she meant them eating pretzels... and wondering what was so great about that.

"No, I mean it. Really. It's not every girl who gets shown a good time by the same guy she has posters of hanging by her bed."

"Oh.... Oh!"

It all came back to him, and he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I was just thinking that I don't have any place to be for another hour, so...."

"...so, why are you standing way over there?"

He smiled at her.

Peter slapped at the alarm clock a few times before knocking it off the night stand. Once it hit the floor, he opened one eye and looked around... then he opened his other eye. It took him a few moments before it registered in his mind that he was in his own room. He sat up and looked around for Mike, but the room was empty. He got out of bed and ran into the living room, in his pajamas.

Davy and Micky were eating rice krispies at the kitchen table.

"Morning, Peter."

"Morning, Pete."

Peter absently waved at them, as he looked for Mike. He found him out on the porch, watching the ocean. He stood beside Mike, in silence for a long moment.

Mike turned to Peter and smiled, "I guess Plan A worked after all."

"I guess it did. So, what are you going to do today?"

"Oh, I dunno... enjoy single life. And you?"

Peter looked down at his hand, and then held it up for Mike to read.

"I have a phone call to make."

Mike put his arm across Peter's shoulders as they walked back into the house to get some cereal before Micky and Davy ate it all.