“The Wild Monkees” Script
Teaser Permalink
“Goin’ Down”
“(Theme From) The Monkees”
Act One Permalink
EXT. HENRY CABOT LODGE
MICKY:
Well, the map says that the turn-off to the Henry Cabot Lodge should be right here.
MIKE:
Yeah, well, that’s groovy. I’ve always wanted to play a gig in a prairie dog hole.
MICKY:
I’d like to see somebody try something like that again!
DAVY:
Micky, why did you have to go and say that?
MICKY:
I didn’t think they’d hear me!
MIKE:
Hey! I need some water!
MICKY:
Peter, go get some water from the car.
PETER:
Oh, but I have—
MICKY:
Don’t worry about it, just go get some water. Uh, hold your, hold your arms up. Your hands up in the air, way up high!
MIKE:
Uh, what?
MICKY:
Hold you hands up in the air. That better?
MIKE:
Not much, no.
MICKY:
Wait a minute, keep coughing. Stick ’em up!
DAVY:
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in me life.
MICKY:
You’re right, man. Stupid.
PETER:
What is this, a stick-up?
MICKY:
No, just give him some water.
MIKE:
[noises] Where did you, where did, [coughs] where did you, [coughs] where did you get that water?
PETER:
From the car, like Micky said.
MIKE:
Where in the car?
PETER:
From the radiator?
DAVY:
Oh, Micky. Don’t worry. Listen, it’s a good job he didn’t get it from the petrol tank—
PETER:
That’s what I meant, the petrol tank.
MICKY:
Hey, a sign!
PETER:
What? Oh.
MICKY:
Well, look at that: “Henry Cabot Lodge and Cemetery. If you’re dying to have a good time, see us.”
MIKE:
Well, folks, looks like we’ve done it again, another rung up the never-ending ladder of success.
EXT. HENRY CABOT LODGE
MICKY:
Oh, a virtual Disneyland for shut-ins.
MIKE:
No, it’s not, man; they won’t let people with long hair in Disneyland.
MICKY:
Right.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - LOBBY
BLAUNER:
Hold it! What’s all the noise about? Hold it!—Oh, of course! You must be the boys in the band! Wonderful, wonderful!
MIKE:
Wonderful? It is?
BLAUNER:
It’s amazing how quickly you got up here.
MIKE:
Thank you. Uh, we, uh, we pack sort of fast. And we unpack sort of fast too.
MICKY:
Isn’t that dumb?
PETER:
What kind of people have you got coming up here? Senior citizens visiting their grandparents? Ha ha ha!
BLAUNER:
We get a nice selection of elderly folks up here, but don’t worry; this afternoon we have some young people coming.
DAVY:
Oh, really? Where they coming from?
BLAUNER:
All over. They’re like a, what can I tell ya, like a travel club. Lovely folks. Lovely.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - LOBBY
MIKE:
Okay, okay? We’re unpacked now.
MICKY:
Where can we eat?
MIKE:
Yeah, we’d like to eat.
BLAUNER:
Eat? How can you eat when I have no waiter?
PETER:
Where’s your waiter?
BLAUNER:
Oh, I have a waiter, and I have a bellhop, and I have a gardener, but they’re not working.
MIKE:
You should go out there to wherever they’re at, and as an employer, demand that they go to work.
BLAUNER:
Right. Go to work!
MIKE:
What do you mean “go to work”? We’re a band.
BLAUNER:
Oh, I hire no bands at this hotel. I hire waiters, and I hire gardeners, and I hire bellhops, and if they happen to play a few musical instruments, wonderful, wonderful!
MICKY:
I get it, the old badger game. If you think for one minute you’re gonna get us ’cause we’re broke, and browbeat us into working like slaves in this slum, you’re dead…
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Right.
BLAUNER:
Wonderful, wonderful! And you, troublemaker, you can be a what, a strolling musician.
MIKE:
Wonderful.
MICKY:
Well, Mr. Blauner, now that we’re your hired help, uh, can we have something to eat?
BLAUNER:
How dare you. My head bell captain to say a thing like that. Eat on your own time! Now is the time to take care of the guests.
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Guests?
MICKY:
Guests?
BLAUNER:
Now get out there and show them a good time.
PETER:
A good time?
MICKY:
Can I help you with your luggage? Ah heh heh. Oh, heh heh. Ahh!
DAVY:
Wh-wh-wh-wh-what are we gonna do?
PETER:
I dunno. Your guest is as good as mine.
MICKY:
Could you… get it off… my… neck?
DAVY:
Oh, hello, good afternoon, uh. Could I get you something to eat? You must be very hungry after the long ride. You’ve been riding, ain’t ya, and all that kind of stuff? Ha ha ha, ahh!
PETER:
You must be, uh, dusty after your long, hard ride.
MIKE:
You’re a thing of beauty to behold, sitting like a manifold.
MICKY:
I’ll carry your motorcycle… up for you.
PETER:
Here, this is just to catch the dirt from that dirty old vacuum.
MIKE:
Where’re you going?
DAVY:
I’m go—going to the kitchen to get something to eat.
MIKE:
Yeah, but the kitchen’s that way.
DAVY:
Yeah, but the one back at the pad isn’t; it’s that way, heh heh. Ohh, please don’t kill me! Please… Kill me, kill me, ah ha ha, kill me some more… ha ha! And again, and again.
QUEENIE:
You’re cute, tiny.
DAVY:
Heh heh, heh, thank heavens, so are you.
ANN:
Hello.
PETER:
Hello.
NAN:
You’re cute, fuzzy.
JAN:
Why do you make all those funny faces?
MIKE:
With my paranoia, I need this abuse.
BLAUNER:
Alright you guys, stop goofing off! You’re here to make the guests happy. Make them relax! Go to work, please. Do me a little favor. That’s it, everybody, up the stairs.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - ROOM
DAVY:
Queenie, I had always dreamed that someday, a woman in black would ride by me, and then, I would know. When I saw you in your dirty black leather boots, I didn’t realize that you were the one. But now, but now I’ve seen through your externals…
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - ROOM
JAN:
Michael.
MIKE:
Yes?
JAN:
You remind me of someone very close to me.
MIKE:
I knew it. I knew it. Go ahead.
JAN:
Someone I could cuddle with and go to whenever I felt sad.
MIKE:
Oh, go ahead, dear. Pour out all your sadness to me. I’ll understand. I will, I will.
JAN:
I have his picture here. Would you like to see it?
MIKE:
Oh! A picture of the male I most remind you of? Of course, of course I’d like to see it! Let me see it! Ah ha ha! It’s a cocker spaniel!
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - LOBBY
PETER:
A jug of bread, a loaf of wine, and thou beside me in the wilderness.
ANN:
Oh, Peter, you’ve quoted the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever heard.
PETER:
Does that mean we can go out together tonight?
ANN:
No.
PETER:
Why not?
ANN:
Let’s face it, man. You’re a sissy.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - ROOM
MICKY:
What would you say if I gave you a little kiss?
NAN:
I’d say, “Gee, I’m sorry, Fuzzy”.
MICKY:
Why would you say that?
NAN:
Because after you gave me that kiss, I’d give you a rap in the mouth.
MICKY:
A-ha, don’t be silly, my pet.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - BASEMENT
PETER:
I think we’re not treating those girls rough enough.
DAVY:
What makes you say that?
PETER:
She called me a sissy.
MICKY:
Peter’s right. Pe-Peter’s right. You know, we’ve got to find a way to get really, really rough.
INT. SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS AND BRUISES
MICKY:
Gentlemen, gentlemen, the meeting will come to order.
MIKE:
Mick, will you shut off your engine? We can’t hear a word you’re saying.
MICKY:
Wh—what, Mike?
MIKE:
Mick, I said will you shut off your engine, we can’t hear you!
MICKY:
I can’t hear you, Mike; my engine’s running!
MIKE:
WILL YOU SHUT OFF YOUR ENGINE WE CANNOT HEAR Y—!
MICKY:
I can’t stop! The engine’s been on for three days, and I get the bends. Get me off this ??? Put me down. Alright, now, let’s take the pledge. It says here in the script—
MIKE:
Handbook!
MICKY:
—handbook. We pledge to obey the laws of dirt and violence
MIKE:
I do that. I do that.
DAVY:
Right, right.
MICKY:
To curb our desire for a bath.
DAVY:
Right.
MICKY:
And to offend all living things.
PETER:
Right.
MIKE:
YEH!
MICKY:
Okay. This afternoon—that was naughty—this afternoon, we’re having a special course in obscene tattooing, ear piercing, and for those of you who want it, rings in your nose.
MIKE:
Oh, I like that.
DAVY:
Ooh, I’d like one of those.
MICKY:
Now, inspection. Hold out your hands. Ah ha, dirty, dirty, ah yuck, dirty. What? Clean hands?
DAVY:
Clean hands?
MIKE:
Ha ha ha.
MICKY:
No, no, no! Dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt! You’re a renegade, not a dentist. Clean hands and crying? Oh, never, never do.
DAVY:
Never make it.
MICKY:
Five seconds, or you’re out of the club. Take care of that. And—what is this? Now here’s a brilliant student. Why, it’s you!
PETER:
Yes!
MICKY:
It’s the same one that I just kicked out a few moments again.
MIKE:
Peter, yeah, Peter!
MICKY:
It says here in the handbook—
MIKE:
Script.
MICKY:
That I have never seen such a turnabout. In a matter of moments, you’ve changed from a clean, sensitive boy to a dirty dropout. You’ve made it, son! You’re tough!
DAVY:
Right!
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - LOBBY
NAN:
Something about those stairs.
QUEENIE:
What are you dressed like that for?
DAVY:
What are you dressed like that for?
MIKE:
Way to fire, tell ’em.
QUEENIE:
We’re tired of the open road. What about you?
MICKY:
Well, you see, we, uh, man, it’s like, uh, we had to…
MIKE:
Do not explain it to them like that. They are nothing but ordinary chicks.
MICKY:
Yeah, right, just a chick.
PETER:
Yeah.
NAN:
Are you guys really tough?
MICKY:
Watch this, baby. Ay-ya. Ee-ya. Ee-yaa. Ya-ya-ya! Ohh. Ohh.
NAN:
You didn’t even break it, honey!
MICKY:
Why should I break it for you? You’re just a chick.
PETER:
Yeah, just a chick.
ANN:
You guys got a rough club?
DAVY:
A rough, a rough, we have a rough club?
QUEENIE:
How rough?
DAVY:
How rough? For initiation, we kill our new members.
MICKY:
What?
PETER:
Huh?
QUEENIE:
Oh, forget it, girls; these guys are too tough.
DAVY:
What ya mean, too tough?
QUEENIE:
Well, that’s why we left our boyfriends.
MICKY, PETER:
B-b-b-b-b-boyfriends?
DAVY:
Boy, boyfriends?
NAN:
Big Frank.
ANN:
Big Neil.
JAN:
Big Bruce.
QUEENIE:
Big Butch, leader of the Black Angels.
MICKY:
Not the Big Butch?
MIKE:
You remember the massacre at Pismo Beach?
DAVY:
P-p-p same people?
MIKE:
Same people. Not Butch.
QUEENIE:
Don’t tell me you’re afraid.
MICKY:
Okay, we won’t tell you. It will be a well-kept secret between just the four of us.
PETER:
Yes.
MIKE:
Yes, yes.
DAVY:
No, no, no—he’s joking.
MIKE:
No, no, no. I’m joking. It’s a joke.
DAVY:
We have to leave. Ah hah hah. Hm hm. Little bit of humor. Ha ha. Joking. Ho.
MICKY:
Never afraid.
[The Black Angels laugh.]
Act Two Permalink
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - LOBBY
MIKE:
Now, now Butch. Now, look here, Butch. You can’t… you can’t keep pushing me like this, Butch. You’re gonna get, uh, too far with it here in a minute… and I’m not going any farther.
BUTCH:
How come?
MIKE:
Well, because I can’t get over this desk.
PETER:
No more room!
BUTCH:
Alright, punk. What’s the name of your club, punk?
MICKY:
Uh, we’re… the Chickens!
MIKE:
Yeah, the Chickens!
MICKY:
Chickens!
MIKE:
We used to be called like, the Fearful Four, and we also used to be called like, The Cowards.
DAVY:
Ye-ye-ye-ye-yellow Bellies.
MIKE:
The Yellow Bellies.
BUTCH:
Okay, which of you wants to fight me?
MIKE:
Well, we all wanna fight you…
BUTCH:
I’ll take you all on!
MIKE:
No! Uh, because…
MICKY:
Because whenever…
MIKE:
We can’t, we can’t, it’s against, uh, what is it, it’s against club rules!
DAVY:
The rules!
MICKY:
You see, whenever a member of the club gets in a tense situation that demands courage, valor, honor, and everything, it’s his loyal duty as a member of this club to chicken out.
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Chicken out! Bwack-bwack-bwack-bwack-bwack!
DAVY:
Hold it! I’ve had enough!
PETER:
What?
DAVY:
Man, I’ve had enough. I’m gonna tear you apart.
PETER:
No, Davy, remember your pledge: you’re a Chicken!
DAVY:
You’re right. Peter, I wanna thank you for saving me before, ’cause I nearly lost my temper, and I didn’t, I bwack-bwack-bwacked out!
BUTCH:
I think we oughta pluck ’em, right, boys?
QUEENIE:
Now listen, Butch. Leave these guys alone.
BUTCH:
Ah, so you turned my woman against me, huh?
MIKE:
No, we didn’t.
MICKY:
No, no.
BUTCH:
Alright, which one of you punks is after Queenie?
MICKY:
None of us—we don’t even like her!
MIKE:
Why did you say that?
QUEENIE:
Well!
BUTCH:
My woman ain’t good enough for you, huh, punk?
MIKE:
You know, somehow, I really think we’re in a bind.
QUEENIE:
Now, listen, Butch—
BUTCH:
You shut up!
QUEENIE:
Oh, I missed you, babe.
BUTCH:
Alright! Tomorrow we’re holding our annual best riders’ contest.
PETER:
Oh, good! What’s first prize?
BUTCH:
Winner gets to destroy everything in sight.
DAVY:
Um, ah heh heh, does that include u-u-us here?
BUTCH:
That includes you.
BUTCH:
Includes you.
PETER:
Just checking.
DAVY:
Just checking it out.
MIKE:
Wanna make sure.
INT. HENRY CABOT LODGE - BASEMENT
MIKE:
Order, order, can I have some order, please?
DAVY:
Uh, bagel with cream cheese and a cream soda.
MIKE:
Not that.
PETER:
Don’t do that.
DAVY:
Oh, excuse me.
MIKE:
We, the order of the Chickens—
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Bwack-bwack-bwack.
MIKE:
Have been challenged. I will now throw the meeting over to the floor for any suggestions. Mr. Tork?
PETER:
I move we fight. Our honor has been smirched.
MIKE:
What?
PETER:
Uh, smurched.
MIKE:
What?
PETER:
Bedirtied.
MIKE:
What?
PETER:
Well, they hurt my feelings.
MICKY:
Fight? No. Fight? Gentlemen, may I remind you as fellow Chickens—
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Bwack-bwack-bwack.
MICKY:
—that fighting is number one, unconstitutional, number two, it is very fruitless in solving a problem, and number three, you can really, really get hurt.
MIKE:
As duly elected president of the Chickens.
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Bwack-bwack-bwack.
MIKE:
I move that we take some course of action immediately.
DAVY, MICKY, PETER:
Right.
MIKE:
We leave. Right, babe?
BUTCH:
[rooster noises]
EXT. HENRY CABOT LODGE
BLAUNER:
Frankfurters, cocktailed hot dogs. Get your hot dogs with mustard, without mustard, with sauerkraut, without sauerkraut, popcorn, peeeanuts!
BUTCH:
Are you ready, Chickens?
MICKY:
We’ve been ready since dawn. We just had to rinse out a few things.
BUTCH:
Okay, Angels, let’s hear our war cry!
[The Black Angels do their war cry.]
MIKE:
Let’s give ’em our war cry!
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Bwack-bwack-bwack…
BUTCH:
That’s the worst war cry I ever heard.
MIKE:
But, how many of your gang can, in fact, lay eggs?
QUEENIE:
Ladies and gentlemen. The fourth annual Black Angels Olympics is about to begin. — What do I say next?
NAN:
Start your engines.
QUEENIE:
Start your engines!
MICKY:
Let’s go, start the engines…
MIKE:
Peter? Micky?
DAVY:
Mike!
MICKY:
Over here!
“Star Collector”
Tag Permalink
EXT. HENRY CABOT LODGE
BUTCH:
Alright, I won. Which one wants to be destroyed first?
PETER:
He is. He is.
DAVY:
No, no.
MIKE:
Micky?
MICKY:
Draw straws.
BUTCH:
Should I tear you apart with my hands, or run you over with my bike?
MICKY:
Well, it’s kind of six of one and half a dozen of the other.
QUEENIE:
You touch one hair on his head, and I’ll never… I’ll never let you write to me.
BUTCH:
Look, I don’t care who I destroy, I just want to destroy somebody!
MIKE:
I got a friend who lives in Pismo Beach.
PETER:
Pismo Beach.
QUEENIE:
I’m tired of the open road. I’m tired of the dust and the grime and the bugs in my teeth. I want to settle down!
BUTCH:
What?
BLAUNER:
Wonderful.
BUTCH:
Well, that tears it.
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
I guess that tears it.
QUEENIE:
We could settle down. We could build illegal motorcycles and raise little scooters.
DAVY:
Yeah, maybe you could have a white picket fence around your garage. A white picket fence!
MIKE:
Way to tell ’em, Davy.
BLAUNER:
Listen, if you promise you won’t destroy anything, you can stay here. Maybe I’ll even give you a job.
PETER:
What do you say, Butch?
BUTCH:
What do I say?
QUEENIE:
Say yes.
BUTCH:
Alright. My woman speaks for me.
DAVY, MICKY, MIKE, PETER:
Yay!