One Saturday afternoon, Cindy, Heather, and Jenny were at the mall. It was a typical day; Heather was talking about what happened on yesterday’s episode of Train 48, Jenny was spouting obscure information about The Monkees, and Cindy was trying to remain somewhat sane and stay as far away from the other two as possible.
“…and then Joe came out wearing this blue shirt, and he was so hot…” Heather sighed.
“…so then they say, ‘We are standing up’! Ha ha ha! Isn’t that funny, kids?” Jenny laughed.
Cindy rolled her eyes, and then noticed a store she’d never seen before. “Hey, I’ve never seen this store before!” she said, indicating the storefront. “Let’s check it out!”
“Ooh! Look! It’s a monkey!” Heather cried, grabbing a stuffed monkey off the shelf and dancing with it.
“It looks like Cindy!” Jenny said.
“It does not!” Cindy pouted.
Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Cindy and Heather jumped and turned around to see Jenny squeezing a rubber chicken.
“Jenny!” Cindy scolded, looking embarrassed.
Suddenly, the room began to spin, and they all started flying around the room and saw pretty colours, much like the beginning of Head, but without music and mermaids and water and drugs (because they are good girls, and they don’t do drugs… well, except for Cindy; she’s addicted to lemon meringue pie, and she has to get a shot once a month to keep her from going crazy, but there was this one time that she missed her shot and turned into a werewolf and set all the clocks backwards, which really caused quite a lot of trouble because Heather was late for her job at the butterfly net factory, and she got fired, but then she got rehired, so it all turned out alright in the end).
“What’s happening?” asked Cindy, beginning to cry.
“It’s the chicken! It’s magic!” Heather cried gleefully.
“Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!” whined the rubber chicken.
After a few minutes of being caught in a psychedelic tornado, the girls fell to the ground, but they were no longer in the store.
“Oof!” Heather groaned.
“Where are we?” asked Cindy. She took her shoes off and turned them upside down; they were full of sand.
“We’re at the beach!” cried Heather, “Yippie!”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this… there’s something about this place that doesn’t seem quite right… ” Cindy noted, surveying the area cautiously.
“You mean besides the fact that you were wearing your shoes and not moving the entire time, and yet you still managed to get a shoeful of sand in your shoe?” asked Heather.
“You’re right, this place seems… strangely familiar…” Jenny said. “Wait, I know—!” she gasped. Jenny was suddenly feeling quite dizzy.
“What? Where are we?” asked Heather.
The girls heard footsteps coming towards them. There was a young man wearing a blue shirt with not seven, not nine, but exactly eight buttons, standing behind them.
“Oh, merciful heavens,” Jenny muttered and promptly fainted.
“Wot’s with ’er?” the man asked indicating the girl on the ground.
“Er, she’s just… weird…” said Cindy, “Who are you?”
“Wot? ’Oo am I? Yer the ones outside my ’ouse!” the man said, folding his arms and glaring at the intruders. He was obviously not ’appy… uh, happy.
Then, a blonde man wearing the same uniform as the first came from the house and called to his friend. “Hey, Davy! Are these your new girlfriends?”
The first man rolled his eyes. “No, Petah! I don’t know ’oo they are!”
“What’s with her?” the second man asked, indicating Jenny, who was still lying on the ground. The other girls shrugged. “Is she with you?” he asked, concerned.
“Yeah, that’s Jenny,” said Cindy. “She’s a little… strange…”
“Well, a lot strange…” Cindy admitted.
“I’m Peter, and this is my friend Davy,” said the blonde man.
“I’m Heather, and this is Cindy,” said Heather.
“Nice to meet you. Why don’t you all come inside the pad? It’s too hot to stay out here all day, and it must not be good for your friend. Mike will know what to do,” said Peter. “C’mon, Davy, help me get her inside.”
Heather stopped suddenly as she put it all together. Davy, Peter, Mike? Why did those names sound so… “Wait, aren’t you guys The… Monkees?”
“So you’ve heard of us!” Peter grinned proudly.
Heather’s eyes widened. “Uh, would you excuse us for a second?” she asked, pulling Cindy away.
Peter and Davy went ahead, carrying Jenny.
“Cindy, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. We must be in the sixties, ’cause they look, like… not old and wrinkly and gross! Well, I mean, they’re still gross, but… but… this isn’t possible... is it?”
“This doesn’t make any sense…” said Cindy, biting her lip.
“Come on; you’re supposed to be the smart one! You’ve got to know what happened!”
“I don’t know! This is so weird!” said Cindy, trying to think of an explanation. Suddenly, they heard a yelp coming from the direction of the house.
“Petah! Watch where you’re goin’! You almost killed the poor girl!” cried Davy. Heather and Cindy ran up to the others to find Davy yelling at Peter, Jenny awake and rubbing her eyes, and Peter crying.
“I’m sorry, Davy! I didn’t mean to!” Peter sobbed.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizin’ to,” Davy pointed out.
“Oh, right, sorry, uh… what was your name again?” Peter asked Jenny.
“Uh buh, uh buh, uh guh gee…” Jenny sputtered, holding her head.
“Jenny!” yelled both Cindy and Heather.
“Right. I’m sorry, Jenny,” said Peter.
“Er… it’s okay…” said Jenny, still dazed.
There was a voice coming from inside the pad. “Hey, now wait just a minute, shotgun, what’s all that commotion out there?”
Jenny’s eyes widened—it had to be Mike. She scrambled to her feet; she knew she would faint again if she saw him. Who knows what Davy and Peter thought of her already? She didn’t need everyone
knowing thinking she was insane. “Uh… we’ve got to go…” Jenny said quickly, running off in the opposite direction. Heather and Cindy looked at The Monkees, shrugged, and ran after her.
About five miles away, Cindy asked, “What was that all about?”
Jenny finally stopped to catch her breath, then cried, “What are we gonna do, what are we gonna do, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?”
“Geez, Jenny, calm down!” cried Heather. She thought for a moment and giggled, “Man, Davy sure is short! Shorter than Cindy! Hee hee!”
Jenny took a deep breath. “Will you excuse me a moment?” she said calmly and walked away.
“Au contraire,” said Cindy, but Jenny had already left.
“Why did you say that?” Heather asked.
“I’m not… entirely… sure…”
Heather and Cindy sat quietly on the beach while they waited for Jenny to return. Suddenly, Heather stood up, grabbed Cindy’s shoulders, and yelled, “Why, Cindy? Whyyyyy?!?”
Cindy, frightened by Heather’s sudden outburst asked, “What, what, what?”
“Why did we come here, to see The Monkees?” Heather asked with disgust. “Why not Train 48? Or to see Clay?”
“Well Jenny is the one writing the story,” Cindy told her, matter-of-factly.
Heather gave Cindy an odd look, but, hey, Cindy could be weird sometimes.
Soon, Jenny returned. “Okay, here’s my plan…” she said, and suddenly, they found themselves outside the door of the Monkees’ pad.
“Your plan is to go back to the Monkees’ house?” Cindy asked skeptically.
Jenny’s face went pale; she didn’t actually have a plan. She started to feel dizzy again.
Heather grabbed Jenny and slapped her. “Snap out of it! Stop writing yourself like a bumbling fool and start writing some plot!”
“Hey, that’s a good idea!” Jenny said. “Let’s do this!”
Jenny knocked on the door. It swung open. Standing there was a man with curly brown hair and a goofy grin.
“Hi there!” he said, “And who might you be?”
Cindy introduced herself and her friends. “We met Davy and Peter on the beach a few minutes ago.”
“Ohh, that’s right; I saw you from the window,” he said. “I’m Micky, by the way.” He turned back to the house and yelled, “Hey, Pete!” Peter came to the door and smiled when he saw the girls.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Jenny.
“Uh… okay, I guess… I think it was just too hot out… or, er, something…” she said, blushing.
“Hey, you girls shouldn’t be out wandering the beach with the weather like it’s been. Why don’t you all stay here for awhile?” asked Micky.
“That sounds like a great idea!” said Heather. Cindy gave Heather a look and wondered why she had accepted the invitation so quickly, though she didn’t think much of it since, hey, Heather could be weird sometimes.
“Groovy!” said Micky. “Hey Davy, Mike! We have visitors!”
“’Ello again!” Davy said. “Mike, this is Heather, Cindy, and Jenny.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mike drawled.
Heather and Cindy instinctively grabbed Jenny to hold her up. Jenny grinned goofily.
“We were just about to eat,” Peter said, “You’re welcome to join us.”
Davy began looking through the cupboards. After a few moments, he frowned. “All we have is some old cereal and cream of root beer soup.”
“Why don’t we go down to the Vincent Van?” suggested Micky.
“Okay!” said Heather. Now it was Jenny’s turn to give Heather a look. She noticed the slightest glint of a twinkle in her friend’s eyes.
So, they all went out to the Vincent Van Gogh Gogh for supper. As they were waiting for the cheque, the girls realized they didn’t have a place to stay.
“Well, ah s’ppose you could stay with us,” suggested Mike.
Jenny grinned goofily again and thanked him. After paying for their meal, the group started back to the pad.
Heather lingered behind, trying to make sense of what was going through her head. Geez, I’m turning into Jenny! she thought, I can’t like a Monkee!
Finally, the group reached the pad. Davy immediately ran to the facilities to check his hair, while the rest of The Monkees started looking around for spare pillows and blankets. Jenny examined every little detail of the house, while Cindy bounced around gleefully. Heather sat on the bandstand, staring into space, trying to figure out what to do.
“Hey, shotgun, what’s wrong?” Mike asked Heather. Jenny turned around abruptly and scowled at her.
“Oh, um, nothing, never mind,” Heather said. Mike shrugged and continued making the beds.
“Heeheeheehee! Woooooooooooo!” cried Cindy, still running around.
Soon, the beds were made up, with no thanks to the three preoccupied girls.
“Hey, someone’s missing,” said Peter, counting The Monkees and only counting three each time.
“Yeah, it’s Davy!” said Micky.
“He’s gone!” the three Monkees and Jenny cried.
The Monkees looked at Jenny, confused. “How did you know to do that?” asked Peter. Jenny shrugged and smiled innocently. Heather and Cindy rolled their eyes.
Suddenly, Davy burst out of the bathroom. “Wot? ’Oo’s gone?”
“You’re gone, Davy!” Peter told him.
“Wot? You’re crackers, you’re all crackers…” mumbled Davy.
The girls and the Monkees sat on the floor around the table to play a game of Creebage.
Davy nudged Micky. “’Ey, man,” he whispered, indicating Heather, “She likes you!”
“What?” Micky asked, oblivious.
“Wow! Groovy!” Micky said, grinning; he had thought that there was something special about her.
“Peter?” Mike asked. The bassist didn’t hear him. “Peter?” Mike waved his hand in front of his bandmate’s face.
“Oh, what did you say, Mike?”
“I said it’s your turn, Peter.”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Peter tossed a card into the pile and picked up two more. The game continued.
“Hey, Mike? What do you do when you like a girl?” Peter whispered to his bandmate.
“Well, definitely not what you did last time,” Mike chuckled, remembering when Peter had fallen in love with a girl named Valleri and stole her portrait. “Why? Who have you got your eye on?” Mike asked.
The bassist looked around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, “Cindy.”
“Do you want me to talk to her for you?” Mike offered.
“No, it’s alright.” Peter said. He rested his head on his chin and sighed.
Jenny looked around the table. She noticed Micky grinning at Heather and Peter gazing longingly at Cindy. She crossed her arms and pouted. Well, this is no fun! she thought. She snuck a glance at Mike, who was paying no attention to her whatsoever. How can I get his attention? she wondered.
“Ooh! I’ve almost got Creebage!” Davy announced.
“Plate o’ shrimp!” Jenny blurted. Everyone turned to look at her.
“What did you say?” Mike asked incredulously.
Jenny felt her face turning red. She looked down at her cards abruptly.
“Um... never mind.” Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The game continued without incident. Jenny noticed Mike glancing at her every so often, but she wasn’t sure if it was a look of enthrallment, or if he was just checking to make sure she wasn’t going to have another outburst.
After the game, Peter approached Cindy. “Hey, uh, Cindy?” he asked.
“Uh… well, I was wondering if maybe… you wanted to maybe go down to the beach with me?” he asked, nervously.
“Okay!” Cindy replied, and off they went.
Meanwhile, Micky and Heather were deeply involved in a conversation about something or other, as were Mike and Jenny, as were Davy and his reflection.
After two minutes or so, Cindy and Peter raced back into the pad.
“Guess what?!” Cindy cried, bouncing up and down alongside Peter.
Everyone turned to watch the two.
“Congratulate me, girls! I’m engaged!” Cindy announced.
“WHAT?!” everyone yelled, jumping up from their seats.
“You must be joking!” Davy and Jenny cried at the time, then glared at each other.
“Cindy, I thought you were supposed to be the rational—” Heather started, but she was interrupted.
Micky cleared his throat. “Well, I guess this is a good time…” he said, getting down on one knee. Heather gasped.
“Heather, would you do me the honour… of going out with me?” he asked.
Heather let out the breath she was holding. “Of course!” she said and hugged Micky.
The two couples smiled, then looked at Jenny and Mike. “Well, go on!” said Micky, nudging the guitarist.
Mike cleared his throat. “…pla boola boola boola buh?”
Jenny squeed, and jumped into Mike’s arms, grinning goofily; she was beginning to get that look permanently. (She also had no clue what Mike meant by that, but she didn’t really care.)
With that, the group began to cheer and started dancing around the pad.
“Well, now,” said Davy, flopping down on the couch and crossing his arms, “Isn’t that nice, yes?” He glared at the others.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Mike opened the door, and everyone peered outside to see who the visitor was.
“Who is it?” asked Peter, confused.
“It’s… Mark!” Cindy squeaked.
“What? Who’s—what’s this thing about this Mark guy?” asked Micky, pointing his thumb towards the stranger.
“I’ve come to take my wife with me,” said Mark, indicating Cindy, who had fainted.
“Your… wife?” asked Peter, starting to cry.
“Oh, Cindy, please, wake up; it’s me, honey,” said Mark, kneeling beside her on the floor and stroking her hair.
Cindy woke up and shuddered.
“C-Cindy?” Peter asked, “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Peter; I can explain…” she said. “You see, one day, I went to the bar with Heather’s drinking friend, Winonah, and well, I guess we had a few too many that night, because when I went to school the next day, I saw Mark, and the next thing I knew, we were in Vegas getting married!”
“No! It wasn’t like that at all!” Mark cried.
“Aw, just get outta here, Mark!” Cindy told him.
“What? I’ve only had like three lines!” he complained. “I’m a good actor; I got the lead in the school play! Here, watch me act!” Mark started running around and acting. “See? See?”
The front door swung open.
“NOOO! He can’t leave! I haven’t been able to marry him yet!” cried the girl at the front door. She flung herself at Mark; it was Alison, one of the girls’ friends.
“Uh oh…” muttered Mark, trying to dodge Alison.
“MARK! MARK! MARK! MARK! MAAAARK!” Alison squealed, running after him.
Jenny rolled her eyes. This story was beginning to have nothing to do with the Monkees! She was going to have to do something about that.
“Alison,” Jenny said, taking her aside, “now, just calm down a min—”
“Alison! If you don’t shut up and do everything I say, you can’t marry Mark!”
“Good. Now, first, I need you to go and talk to Davy, because he’s gonna be very upset if someone doesn’t go out with him.”
“What?! Him? He’s an UGG-O!”
“Hey! Remember what I said?”
“Good, now go and do what I told you,” Jenny said. Alison pouted and sulked off over to Davy.
“Cindy, I love you! Please, come back and live with me!” Mark said.
“No, Mark, I’m getting a divorce, and that’s final!” Cindy yelled, stomping her foot.
Jenny sighed. “I hardly see how this is even an issue, as I highly doubt that this marriage is actually legal,” she pointed out.
“Umm… well, you see…” Cindy laughed nervously and blushed. The other girls looked at her wide-eyed.
“CINDY! I HATE YOU!” Alison screamed, lunging at Cindy. Mike and Micky held her back as Mark grinned.
“Alright, that’s it!” said Peter angrily, rolling up his sleeves. The rest of the band gasped; Peter was normally very non-violent.
“You get out of our house, now!” Peter said.
“Never!” Mark cried.
“…please?” Peter asked.
“Nooooo!” cried Alison. “Don’t hurt my poor Marky baby!”
Mark’s eyes lit up. “Marky baby?” he repeated, dreamily. “No one’s ever called me that before… Alison… I think I love you!” And with that, Alison fainted. And Mark started his musical number.
“Baaaaaa ba-ba ba, ba-ba ba-ba BA, baaaaa ba-ba ba BAAAAAAAAA!” sang everyone.
Mark jumped in front of the camera and started wailing. “I think I love you! So what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of, a love there is no cure for!”
“Oh, Alison, wake up!” said Davy, kneeling next to her. “I was just starting to fall in love with you!” And with that, Alison woke up and scrambled away from Davy.
She jumped into Mark’s arms. “Can we get married right now?” she asked.
“Why, sure, babe; let’s go!” he said, kissing her on the cheek and carrying her out the door. But Alison banged her head on the wall, so they had to stop by the corner store to get a bandage first.
“Phew, I’m glad that’s over!” said Peter, who hugged Cindy tight.
“Now what?” asked Heather.
But once again, there was a knock at the door.
Mike opened the door to find Alison and Mark. “Uh, we don’t know where to go to get married…” said Alison.
“Well, that can wait, can’t it?” suggested Micky. “Why don’t you come down to the beach with the rest of us?” to which the two lovebirds agreed.
So down to the beach they all went. They splashed around for awhile until yet ANOTHER person arrived on the beach.
“I was hoping someone could please escort me to the movie theatre,” said the man.
“That’s an in-joke, you know,” Jenny said to the camera.
“It’s Mr. Skinner!” cried Alison.
“You didn’t marry him too, did you?” Peter asked Cindy, but Cindy didn’t reply.
“…Cindy married Mr. Skinner!!!” Heather screeched. Cindy lunged at her.
“I did not!” she cried through clenched teeth.
“Hey! Can I go swimming too?” asked Mr. Skinner. “I’ve got my bathing suit!” he said, holding the suit up for them to see.
“NO!” they all cried, covering their eyes. He shrugged and left.
That night, Heather, Cindy, and Jenny stayed at the pad with The Monkees, while Mark and Alison found a hotel room and made arrangements for their wedding.
The next day, Cindy and Peter made arrangements for their wedding as well, Micky and Heather went down to the beach, and Mike and Jenny went out to see a movie.
And poor Davy was stuck all alone at home with Mr. Schneider.
“’Ey, man, why doesn’t Alison like me?” he asked the wooden dummy and pulled the string on his back.
“It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,” the dummy said.
“Ah, you’re a great ’elp,” Davy said, sarcastically.
Just then, Alison burst through the front door.
“Oh, Davy! It was all wrong with Mark. I should have stayed with you!” she told him.
“Really?” Davy asked, “Why the sudden change of ’art?”
“Well, I don’t want to be left out of the story!” Alison said matter-of-factly. “Please!” she begged, “will you go out with me?”
“Why, o’ course luv!” Davy told her. And with that, they skipped down to the beach and announced their newfound love for each other to Heather and Micky.
“Hey, that’s great, man!” said Micky. “Now everyone is happy!”
Soon, everyone had returned to the pad. But once again, there was a knock at the door. Micky answered.
Now it was Heather’s turn to faint; the visitor was Mr. Skinner, who had come to tell everyone about their secret marriage last summer… no, no, just kidding. No, really, it was Joe from Train 48! He ran over to Heather and kissed her.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Micky asked Joe. “She’s MY girlfriend!”
“Oh yeah?” Joe sneered.
“Are you challenging me?” Micky cried.
“Well, she’s MY girlfriend!”
“Oh, okay, that’s cool,” Joe said, shrugging.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Micky said.
Then Joe left. Now wasn’t that a nice little cameo? Yes.
“Hey! I’ve got an idea!” said Jenny. “Why don’t we all go down to the beach, and then you guys can play a song, and we can all dance around and be happy!”
“A romp, you mean?” asked Mike.
“Exactly!” said Jenny.
[ cut to the beach; “Papa Gene’s Blues” plays; the group dances and romps around like suggested ]
“Wow, that was fun!” said Cindy. “Let’s do it again!”
[ cut back to the beach;“I’m a Believer” plays; the group dances and romps around like suggested ]
Then, suddenly, they all see pretty colours and the whole group (including The Monkees) are back in the store.
Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! cries the chicken.
Then the chicken comes alive and eats everyone. And they all party and romp around in the chicken’s stomach for the rest of their lives.
How did Alison arrive in the sixties? Was Cindy telling the truth about her feelings about Mark? Why is there a quote from A Hard Day’s Night in a Monkees story? Did Heather really marry Mr. Skinner? How could one little magical rubber chicken eat eight big people? And what does cheese have to do with anything? The answer to all of these questions is… who cares? But hey, you may figure it out by reading the sequel to Laugh, Laugh 2. But, most likely, you won’t.