by Enola Jones

Songs used: "Imagine" by John Lennon; "Mister Tambourine Man" by the Byrds

The Monkees were beginning their day. Davy was the first one up, bounding out the door in his pajamas to see if the mail had run.

Finding the box empty, he went back to the house -- to find the door had locked behind him! Sighing, he began to knock.

It opened a minute later, to reveal Peter blinking at him. He grinned. "It helps if you unlock the door first."

"Yeah, I figured that out." Davy sighed and flopped bonelessly on the couch. "I was hoping a letter from Chris would be there."

"Man, you're really hung up on that girl." Peter smiled as he turned on the radio and began to gather breakfast materials.

Mike came downstairs just in time to hear "Imagine" warbling from the radio.


"Imagine there's a shotgun," he warbled off-key in reply, "pointed at the radio...." He cocked an imaginary rifle and made a banging noise as he pointed it at the radio.

The radio, mid-word, obediently exploded.

Peter sighed. "We lose more radios that way...."

Davy glared at Mike. "What bee got up your behind this morning?"

"It's mornin'," Mike growled, reaching for the paper. "What other reason do I need?"

Peter chuckled, and then nudged Mike as Davy headed back out to the mailbox. "There he goes. You think this will work?"

"Y'never know with Davy." Mike began to grin. "But he really needed taken down a peg or two."

"Yeah," Peter grinned back. "Micky said there was starting to not be enough room in here for the four of us plus his ego!"

Mike laughed. "Well, I hope this works."

Davy blew back in. "It came, it came!" he gushed, tearing open a distinctive pink envelope.

"Well?" Peter asked. "What does she say?"

"She's coming today!" Davy laughed. "At four o'clock! She says she'll be wearing a pink carnation!" He cheered. "I'm finally going to meet her face to face!"

"I hope she won't be a disappointment," Mike said, managing to sound very sincere.

Davy grinned at him. "I'm not worried. Any girl who can touch my heart like this? She might be ugly, and I wouldn't care!"

Peter leaned toward Mike. "You sure this is okay? I mean, he's really hung up...." he whispered.

"Relax," Mike whispered back. "He's had this coming for a long time. He'll get over it."


All too soon, it was four o'clock. Micky bellowed, "I GOT IT!" as he vaulted over furniture and jerked open the door. He broke into a wide grin, seeing who was on the other side.

Reaching out, the drummer pulled their guest inside. "I'll go get him," he laughed, heading toward the downstairs bedroom.


Davy was swaying, eyes closed, to a record Chris had written always made her think of him. He sang along with it.

"Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
All my senses have been stripped
And my hands can't feel to grip
And my toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering...
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way
I'm ready to go under it...

Hey, Mister Tambourine Man
Play your song for me
I'm not sleepy and
There ain't no place I'm goin' to
Hey, Mister Tambourine Man
Play your song for me
In the jingle-jangle mornin'
I'll come followin' you...."

A knock on the doorway startled him, and he spun to see Micky smiling there. "She's here, then?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Chris is here, yes," Micky confirmed. At Davy's knee-jerk whirl to the mirror, he laughed. "You're fine! C'mon, don't keep your pen-pal waiting."

Davy ran his hands through his hair one last time, and then walked into the living room, Micky trailing him. He saw Mike and Peter -- Mike sitting on the couch arm beside Peter -- in easy conversation with a handsome, young, red-haired man. Confused, he turned to Micky. "I thought you said Chris was here!"

"Davy?" the unfamiliar voice, so full of hope, caught his attention. He turned back to see the man had stood and turned toward him. His eyes were sparkling as he smiled broadly.

Davy frowned at he looked at him. The man was Peter's height, his sparkling blue eyes wide and -- hopeful? He was well-dressed and held a bouquet of carnations. He took a step closer and held the bouquet out to Davy. "For... for you."

Numb, Davy took the bouquet. His eyes traveled to the man's lapel -- and his jaw slammed wide open. In the lapel rested a single pink carnation.


The smile widened and the man nodded. "Oh, you're just as beautiful as I remembered!"

Davy licked suddenly dry lips. "Look.... uhm, Chris... I-I think there's been some sort of... misunderstanding...."

At that moment, Micky snickered. Davy turned toward him, to find his hand over his mouth, trying to keep the giggles inside. Frowning, he turned to the others, to find them trying to smother chuckles as well. Even Chris's mouth was twisting as he fought laughter.

Davy's eyes grew huge and he whirled to Micky. "You set me up!" he growled, the light finally dawning.

Their laughter confirmed it, and then Mike spoke up. "Davy, this is Chris Connelly -- an old friend of mine."

"But...why?" Davy asked, shock in his voice.

"To be quite blunt, Dave," Mike replied, "your ego was gettin' outta control. You and that parade of ladies...."

"So you set this up...." Davy moaned, shaking his head. "I can't believe you guys! Why didn't you just talk to me about this?"

Peter's quiet question explained everything. "Davy, would you have listened without us getting your attention like this?"

Davy blinked. "Oh." Then he turned to Chris. "So you're... not...?"

"No," he laughed. "As a matter of fact, I'm happily married!"

"B-but your letters," Davy stammered, still confused. "They sounded just like a woman in love!"

"They should." Chris's smile grew. "My wife wrote them."

"She was in on it too?" At Chris's nod, Davy let out another groan. "Well," he sighed. "You definitely did get my attention!"

"Good," Micky sighed. "I'd have hated to have to go through all this again!"

"Why, you sonuva--" Davy grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and lit into Micky, who took off out the back door. Davy followed, swinging the pillow and shouting threats over Micky's laughter.

Peter, Chris and Mike watched them from the bay window, laughing at their antics. Chris looked at Mike. "Mission accomplished?"

"Mission accomplished," Mike laughed as Peter hugged their friend one-armed.


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