Sam was standing around after triumphantly saving his "daughter" from falling into a gorge when he felt the tingly feeling he associated with Leaping. When he arrived into his new Leapee, he was in the middle of a high beat song he vaguely remembered...
"Love is ouuuuuwwwwwwwhhhhh boy!", sang Sam.
"MICKY!!!", yelled a short man with an English accent, hitting Sam on the arm lightly with his tambourine.
A tall man with a Texan accent sighed. "What’s the matter with you, man? We were going great right there! You KNOW Davy has really been stinking up his part lately!"
"HEY!", cried the Englishman angrily. "YOU were distract...."
"C'mon guys!", a quiet man, previously playing a guitar, broke in.
Sam was sitting there dazed, watching "Davy" and the other two guys argue over whatever had happened earlier before he Leapt in. Somehow they seemed vaguely familiar...
"I said.... MICKY!!!!", yelled the tall man with the Texan accent.
"Wha... uh... um... I...", stuttered Sam.
"I asked why did you goof this thing up Micky???", the Texan replied, somewhat angrily.
"Uh, I'm sorry.", replied Sam, still dazed from the leap.
"Y'better be", replied Davy, storming off the stage.
Sam still didn’t quite understand what was going on. All he knew was that things weren't going too well for this band. Sam tried, as he always did, to piece together the pieces of this Leap before Al arrived. First off, he was in some kind of band that was somehow FAMILIAR. Secondly, he was "Micky", and there was also a short English man named Davy, a man with a Texan accent named Mike, and the quiet guitarist that hadn't said much so far.
"Micky, what is WITH you???", asked the Texan.
"Uuuh, oh boy!", replied Sam, leaning downward.
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Hey, man you okay? You NEVER say "oh boy", so what the heck are you DOING??? Twice in one day??"
"Uhhh, I'm just out of it.", replied Sam, straining to not say, "oh boy".
"Oh, all right Micky. But last week it was Davy. This week it was you, screwing up our auditions.", replied the Texan.
"What exactly did Davy do?", asked Sam.
"Y'know what he did!!!", replied Mike. "Totally messed it up!"
"Well... oh yeah.. uh.. I remember now.", replied Sam. "I just have... uh... a headache! Just.. let me get some Ibuprofen and I'll be fine...".
"What is Ibuprofen?", asked the quiet guitarist, scrunching up his face a bit.
"Ah... what?? Er... uh... aaaaa... I meant... Aspirin??", said Sam, not quite sure what time period this WAS.
Suddenly Al, Sam's Observer friend, appeared on the scene.
"FINALLY!", thought Sam, but out loud he said, "I'm, uh, gonna lie down for a bit... if it's all right... I mean...."
"Fine Micky.", sighed the Texan.
"Ya you go ahead Micky... we'll catch up with you later... K?", Peter said kindly.
"Yeah. Thanks guys...", Sam said, glad that he got a chance to talk to Al in private. Luckily Al hadn't said anything yet. He had just been staring at his handlink like he had seen a ghost. Usually Al tried to fill Sam in WHILE he was also trying to listen to his new acquaintances, which mixed Sam up considerably. Although Sam appreciated the silence, he was concerned about his friend.
"Into the bedroom!", Sam mouthed to Al as the two musicians meandered out to the beach.
Al just watched, bug-eyed as the musicians left.
"Al?", asked Sam. He got up and waved his arms in front of Al. "Hey, Al?? Anybody in there?"
"Huh, what? Oh. Do you even KNOW who you ARE?", replied Al.
Sam gave him a "yeah-right" look. "No, I don't, Al. What do you THINK??"
"Well, Sam, you're one of the members of one of the most famous bands in the sixties!", replied Al.
"The, wha?" replied Sam.
"The Monkees. You are Micky Dolenz.", replied Al. "And I didn't need Ziggy for that one."
"Oh yeah... I kinda remember them", Sam said.
"KINDA?? I know I was kinda old, but when I got outta the war I heard one of their songs that happened to be playing on the radio still. It just hit me as GREAT music!!", said Al, taking a trip down memory lane.
"Oh yeah? You never mentioned you liked good old rock'n roll!", Sam laughed.
"Well! I was.. young and all! You know!", replied Al, somewhat bitterly.
Sam, sensing his annoyance, but not exactly knowing why, merely said, "Yeah okay... so... what am I here to do?"
"Okay, well, apparently, Ziggy doesn't have any information yet, but it's my guess that something is going on with the band", replied Al.
"Well, this Texan fellow seems to not like the group", replied Sam.
"You don't look half bad with curly hair", Al said, as usual, getting off track.
Sam glared at him. "Yeh, yeh, get on with it."
Al laughed. "Okay well, your guess is as good as mine. But see these guys are at the top of the charts, but at the same time the group must be rotting. And you are Micky. The guy you called "the Texan" is Mike Nesmith. The quiet one is Peter Tork. And the short fellow is Davy Jones, who my 4th wife had a huge crush on. Y'know I think that's why she left me. For him. Ahhh, man...."
"Al!!!" cried Sam.
Just then Davy came walking over. "Micky??? Who in the world is Al???"
"Uuuh. I mean OW! This headache is KILLING me!", replied Sam.
"Nice comeback.", muttered Al.
"Oh, okay Micky. Uh, Peter told me to tell you that we're gonna be down at a beach pah'ty if you need us.", Davy answered.
"Yeh, okay....", Sam looked at Al for a name.
"Davy!", mouthed Al, rolling his eyes that Sam couldn't remember.
"Uuh, Davy", finished Sam.
"Well... I am gonna go back and see if Gushie's found out anything new. And try to communicate with that darn Ziggy... ya know... I REALLY wish you hadn't programmed her with such an ego...", Al went on.
Sam just let him go muttering to himself. Al always seemed annoyed at Ziggy's ego, and though he couldn't remember doing it, he wished he HADN'T programmed her with such an attitude. It left Al so... Cranky. Definitely cranky!
"Well I suppose I better try to figure out what I am here to do.", Sam said to himself after the Door slammed shut.
Later that night the guys came back and Sam had just finished cooking a meager meal of macaroni and cheese--it was the only thing in their bare cupboards. The other musicians seemed shocked.
"Micky!??! Micky, zat you??", cried Peter running up to Sam and grabbing his head, examining it carefully.
"Yeah! I just--c'mon! Let go!", screamed Sam, highly confused by this sudden examination.
"Peter... what ARE you doing?", said Davy, very surprised at the sight that greeted him when he walked in.
Just then Sam heard the Door open and then shut again, although he couldn't exactly turn and SEE it. Al suddenly came into view with a bemused look on his face.
"OH NOO!", thought Sam, frowning to himself.
"Gee, Sam! I never knew... hehe.", Al said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, I think Micky has been replaced by space aliens and...", Peter started.
"Oh no... not AGAIN, Peter!", Mike bellowed. "This is the third time this WEEK!"
"Whoa, Sam! Why didn't you tell ME you were an alien??", Al snickered in the background.
"Well, I KINDA am what with Leaping and all", Sam said forgetting the other Monkees were there.
"WHAT?!?!", Davy and Mike said in unison.
"OOOOOOOOH BOY!", Sam almost shouted.
"MICKY!! What has gotten INTO you??", Mike said.
Sam grimaced inwardly. "More than you think, Mike" He thought to himself.
"I don't know what is with you, Micky! But it's really startin’ to bug me", replied Mike.
Peter let go of Sam and walked over to Mike. "No, Mike, it's you. It's not Micky. Everything that we do is wrong."
"What are you talking about?", asked Mike. "It's not my fault that Micky has some obsession with the words 'oh boy' today! And the fact that Davy is always forgetting his lyrics!"
"Oh boy", mumbled Sam.
"Sam, outside", said Al.
"I can't," replied Sam. "What am I supposed to tell them?"
"Micky??? Who are you talking to???", asked Davy. "This is the second time!"
"What is it with them counting how many times you do stuff?", asked Al.
Sam sighed. "Look, fellas, I need a break. I don't feel so hungry. I think I'll take a walk. All right?"
"Sure, Micky," replied Peter.
Al disappeared and Sam walked outside onto the balcony.
Al reappeared, shocking Sam totally.
"Don't do that!", replied Sam.
"Hey you're catching on," replied Al.
"What?", asked Sam.
"Oh never mind. Okay, Ziggy says there's a 97 percent chance that Mike is going to leave the group. And your job is to keep him from leaving."
"Yeh, but what's so important, besides the fact that the group'll split?", replied Sam.
"See, there's this big record deal coming up. And they would be getting a sort of raise and would go on to make one of the greatest albums they ever made. They might not be totally together, but millions of fans, including myself...."
"Yeh, Al, I see!", replied Sam, jumping down to the sand. "So, I have to keep Mike in the group, so they can go on and make albums, but eventually break up anyway?"
"Yeh, that's about it, Sam. But it isn't as easy as you think. Because, according to Ziggy, Mike met with a big record producer who offered him 5 times as much to work solo yesterday," replied Al. "But you see, this group deal, which none of the guys know about is even BIGGER. So you HAVE to stop Mike from leaving the group."
"AL! This guys is so... well... he's so...", Sam stuttered.
"Strong minded?", Al volunteered.
"Yeah! and HOW am I supposed to convince him that a bigger deal is coming up... with NO proof!! How long exactly IS this deal from today?" Sam blurted out.
"Well... Ziggy says about one month... maybe three weeks", Al said.
"WHAT?? AL! I wanna Leap BEFORE that!! these people already think I am nuts!!" Sam shouted.
"First off... MICKY is nuts.. not you. Secondly, keep you voice DOWN! Davy already noticed you are talking to "yourself" and with your luck you'll get committed before this Leap is over."
"AL!!!" Screamed Sam horrified.
"Micky!! WHO are you TALKING to!!?!?!" Davy said, horrified.
"um... my headache?" Sam said tentatively.
"That must be some doosey of a headache... crazier and crazier.... can't seem to...", Davy muttered as he walked away.
"This is just great, Al.", Sam whispered.
"No problem Sam. Just, oh, I dunno... tell them you, uh, don't feel well today and are just talking to your.. imaginary friend from childhood named Al *snicker*", Al laughed.
"Allllllll!", growled Sam. "I am gonna pretend you did NOT just say that."
"Fine, fine, just trying to help out.", Al said.
"NOT HELPING!", Sam yelled, nearly falling over.
"AHHH!! He's CRACKER'S!!! GUUUUYYYYYSSS!!!!", Cried Davy, running into the beachhouse from his hiding place behind a post.
"Ooooooh boy", Sam sighed.
"MICKY!" bellowed Mike. "What is with that "oh boy" junk??"
"Oh boy!", Sam said.. to himself this time. "I uh... I like that phrase! it is my new phrase!", he said aloud.
"Weird phrase...", muttered Mike.
"Pshaw", Al said, and Sam shot him a look that could freeze boiling hot lava.
"My head...", Sam whimpered in his most convincing tone. "I think I should get some sleep"
"Hey Mick! It's only 5:45! Don't you wanna see the Three Stooges at 6!? you LOVE them!", Peter remarked.
"Well.. I, uh, I mean I think I should get some sleep. I don't feel that well.", Sam said.
"Oh boy! Micky is sick!", Peter cried.
"PETER!!!?!?! Not you TOO!", Mike said with a painful look on his face.
"What? It is a catchy phrase.. I have to give THAT to Micky!", Peter said in a silly tone.
"Oh boy.", Mike said. "AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! NOT MEEE!!! ARGH!!! MICKY! I am gonna KIIILLL YOU!"
"Hey Mike, lighten up! it is just a couple of words!", Peter said.
"Haha.. yeah I guess so.", Said Mike letting the topic drop.
"All right Micky... you go lay down and we'll see you in the morning for the gig.", Davy said.
"All right. Thanks guys. I'll see you in the morning.", Sam replied.
As he went up the strange winding stairs and into the room on the balcony it suddenly hit him.
"GIG??", Sam realized.
"Yep. that's what he said Sam.", Al said with a smirk, as the Door closed on him.
"OH BOY!", Sam gasped.
*****************************************************************
"Okay, uh, Micky," Al said, feeling strange talking to Micky Dolenz.
"Uuuuh, I have the worst headache. Where am I?", asked Micky.
"Well, y'see this will seem a little strange to you. See, my friend Dr…. Well… Sam… created a time machine. He can take the place of other people in history and you sort of switch places. This time you were chosen...", started Al.
"WHAAAAAA??", cried Micky.
"Hey, hey, sit down," replied Al.
Micky glanced around frantically, but there wasn't much to see, but a room with a table. He sat back down, but cautiously. "Why?"
"Let me explain. Do you know anything that could help Sam out, because he is trying to save The Monkees from breaking up," replied Al.
"Breaking up? Who's the Monkees?", asked Micky.
"Great! He WOULD forget that!", cried Al. "Um, Micky, you sit and think for awhile. I'm going to go talk to Sam."
"Uuuh, okay. Groovy," replied Micky.
*************************************************************
"Al!", cried Sam. "Gosh where is your hologram when you need one???"