"Wtf, didn't I leave after 33 1/3???

Why am I here and why am I young and beauti

ful? Wait, no, I'm supposed to be beautiful. Why am I young?"
"We're all young and beautiful, Peter, don't be ridiculous."
"Peter?! What about you, man, you're saying we're all young and beautiful, and t
hat just ain't right?"
"How do you figure that one, Mike?"
"Ooh, I know I know let me!"
"Oh, alright Davy, you can answer him."
"Well, Micky, the three of us are always beautiful, but you <em>never</em> were!
" <em>doo do dodoot doo! </em>
<!--cut=Baladadum--><strong>HERE WE COME WALKIN DOWN THE STREET</strong>
Davy Jones is the main character, because he never gets to be the main character
. So right now he's all up in the mix, sitting at the kitchen table, while Mick
y bounces behind him and Mike fixes lunch. "Hey, where's Peter," Davy asked.
"I dunno but I think I need new shoes because I can't seem to keep my feet on th
e floor," Micky said.
"On the bandstand," Mike said.
"No he's not, if he were I'd know where he was!" Davy cried.
"He's sick."
"Ohhhh." Davy made the Wait WHUT face. "How would that make him invisible."
Mike turned around and sighed exasperatedly. "Have you ever been invisible when
you felt well?"
"Uh... no..."
"Well okay, then!" Mike shook his head and went back to skinning the giant poss
um he'd caught hanging around their balcony.
"Gee, Davy, you don't have to make things so hard. Mike already has to think fo
r all three of us," Micky chastised.
"Give me a break, Micky, PETER has to think for you."
"Well, it's a time and energy saver, man, because I have to think for him, too.
But you should think for yourself. OW!" Micky landed on his ass and rubbed his
head where he'd bonked it on the ceiling.
Davy decided that this conversation was getting too silly even for The Monkees,
so he got up and went to the bandstand. He still couldn't see Peter, but Mike w
as usually right. "Uh, Peter?"
"And I thought I was the dummy," Peter's disembodied voice replied.
"O!"
"Don't believe everything you hear, David. Come out here and take this back to M

ichael, and dump it on his head, okay?" A bucket levitated outside the bay wind
ow. Davy tiptoed nervously toward the door, until he saw Peter lying on the har
dwood deck holding a bucket over his head.
"Right, what are you doing out here? And what's in the bucket?"
"Don't worry about that. And don't spill it on yourself, or you'll be very upse
t. And hurry back with that bucket, or everyone will be very upset." Peter sta
red at the sky and put his hands over his ears.
Davy shrugged and went back into the house. "Hey, Mike, Peter wanted me to give
you this," he said, and poured the contents of the bucket over Mike's head.
"OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!" Mike ran screaming out of
the kitchen and into the bathroom and proceeded to make lots of vulgar and medic
ally unsound noises. Davy shrugged and took the bucket back to Peter.
"Did he like it?"
"Nah, I don't think so, man. Right now he's offering a sacrifice to Ralph, the
porcelean god. So what the heck was in the bucket?"
Peter smiled sweetly and got to his feet. "Sea water."
Davy blinked and looked at the camera. Then he looked at me, because he realize
d that this episode is never going to be on film. I guess that's supposed to be
my cue to convey his utter confusion to you, but I'll just take a moment to ref
lect on his beautifully shaped mouth.
<p align="center">* * *</p>
<p align="center">* *</p>
<p align="center">*</p>
Wow, apparently Mike was so upset by the bucket of water that he'd run out of th
e bathroom stark naked and is currently trying to set Davy's tunic on fire by c
hasing him with the possum skin. Because we all know that sets tunics on fire.
Possum skins, that is. This apparently is a real turn on for Peter who proceed
ed to sing "The Kind of Girl I Could Love" at the top of his lungs while paintin
g little hearts and flowers on Micky's face with lipstick. No one knows where P
eter got the lipstick, but no one knows where Peter got Micky either. We just a
ccept that he sometimes makes odd mistakes, and pat him on the head because we l
ove him anyway.
Davy ran out of the house screaming for help, barely keeping ahead of his crazed
roommate. He ran all the way to Compton, which is REALLY not close to Malibu o
r whereever the hell it is they supposedly live. It's also not close to Santa M
onica, which is where <strong>I</strong> say they live, and since this is my sto
ry, that is where they now live. Either way, it's not close. And Davy had no id
ea where the hell he was. There were all these... well, <em>black</em> people.
He slowed down and stopped yelling so much, despite the lunatic behind him. Mik
e ran into him at full speed, toppling them both to the ground in an undignified
spectacle of public buttsex. They orgasmed instantly and got back to their fee
t. The possum skin brushed Davy's tunic, setting the whole thing ablaze. He ri
pped off the shirt and waggled his finger at Mike, who was busy tying his hat to
the possum skin to use as a makeshift jockstrap/g-string thing. When Mike was
finished, Davy realized he suddenly felt at ease among all these neeeeegros who
hadn't even batted an eye at them.
"Man, I feel like I'm back at home," Mike said breezily.

"You comfortable too?!" Davy squealed with delight.

"Yeah, you know, Ghetto is Country's little bastard sister, and Trashy is Countr
y's big secular brother. I'm as trashy and country as they come."
"DAMN YOU SHO IS" some random fatass woman with pink lipstick, yellow biking sho
rts and a purple sports bra with no damn elastic left screamed in Mike's ear.
"Oh Jesus I think I just died of brain cancer," Mike cried.
"It's okay, Mike, I think I speak her language," Davy said. He licked his hands
until they were good and wet, and ran them through his recently cut hair until
his bangs stuck straight up and out like insane cat ears, unzipped his fly, and
put one of his loafers in his back pocket. "EH WHERE THE PHONE AT?"
"LOOK IST UP THE STREET YOU CAN AX AT THE CONER AN THEY GOTS SOME GOOD SHIT UP I
N THERE"
"NAW BITCH THE PHONE"
"DAMN WHY AINTCHU JUS SAY THAT IN THE FIRS PLACE DAMN YOU FINE THO BUT LOOK IST
ON THE SAM CONER BUT JUS YOU CAN GO TO THE CHICKEN STO AND THEY GOT ONE UP IN TH
ERE"
"AIGHT BABY"
"AIGHT"
Davy turned back to Mike with a satisfied smile. "Come on, we can call the othe
rs and they'll come pick us up."
Mike burst into tears. "But... we just had the most amazing sex ever! How coul
d you do this to me?? I... I thought I was different!!! There's always a new g
irl every week, but I've always been here!!!!!! We even have the same birthday!
!!!!!!! OH MY GOD DAVID I'M PREGNANT HOW COULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME LIKE THIS???!"
Davy rolled his eyes. "Damn, Mike, stop being so Eastside and come on."
"Oh, okay. So we're cool?"
<strong>Commercial break.</strong>
Micky waved his arms around. "Waitaminit waitaminit I don't wanna be a canvas f
or your little girly escapades, Peter. I gotta get this crap off my face."
"But Micky, didn't you see Michael running around here all wet and naked and car
rying a dead animal skin from some rodent I most certainly will not be eating?
He's SOOOOOO CUTE OMG. I like to pretend like he's jerking me off while I'm in
the shower. Plus he's taller and stronger than Davy and can snap him in two. M
mm, violence."
"Wait, what? I thought you were into peace and stuff," Micky said.
"Oh, I don't like the war in Iraq Vietnam, but I absolutely love to see a strong
man rip another one in two with his bare hands, especially if the strong man is
really skinny, because that just proves that he must really be strong to do tha
t with out any muscle or braun or anything. So hot. Hey, I bet you're pretty g
ood looking with a paper bag over your head..." Peter jumped up to find a paper
bag.

Micky ran up to the room he shared with Mike and Davy but not Peter because he's
not allowed to share a room with Peter for some unknown reason unless Mike and
Davy are in the room already and hid under the bed that Mike usually slept in by
himself even though technically three Monkees could fit in any of their beds to
gether at any given time since all they ever got to eat was the crazy shit Mike
convinced them was edible with his trashy ass. He watch Peter's feet creep into
the bedroom, turn around in circles, then pad out of the room quietly. He wait
ed a little longer until he thought it was safe, then shimmied out from under th
e bed.
The phone rang and Micky forgot all about being scared of Peter's wtfery. He ra
n out the room and slid down the banister, right into a paper bag Peter was hold
ing out for him. "OMG!"
"SHHHHHHH! I'm sorry, David, I couldn't hear you over my new dominatrix. Uh, I
'll explain it later. Okay... wait what?" Peter loled for a long time. "LOLOL
OLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL wait what?" Micky wished he could hear the other end of t
he conversation. He also wished he knew wtf Peter meant by 'new dominatrix'. H
e also wished Mike hadn't run out of the house like a fucking freak before finis
hing... whatever it was he was doing to the lump of dead animal in the sink. E
ven though the six inch thick skin of the industrial strength paper bag he could
smell the distinct stench of decomp. Either that, or he needed to switch tooth
pastes.
"Well, it looks like we'll have to postpone our game. Davy and Mike ran their r
etarded asses all the way to The Ghetto. They want us to get them. I'll need y
ou to protect me, because I have yellow hair and they hate yellow hair, because
they erroneously associate it with The Man. But your face is squished up and ug
ly enough that if you wash that shit out of your hair and go with the fro, they
might ignore the lilywhiteness of your skin and focus on trying to determine if
you're an alien or one of them."
"Fuck you, Peter."
The paper bag came off Micky's face. "Goddammit, I just fucking said we have to
wait!" Peter backhanded him with such force that he flew in the air and landed
on top of Mr. Schneider. "Damn, bitch, why don't you listen?"
Micky shook the cobwebs out of his head and ran to the car. "SHOTGUN!!"
Peter followed him calmly. "Of course you are, you retard. I mean, I'm the one
who absorbs Michael's personality when it is most convenient. You can only dri
ve when he's beating me in the backseat, or if we're not around. Got it?"
"WHUT?"
"Great." Peter started the engine even though he didn't have a key and they got
on the Santa Monica Freeway which was only a second from their house because th
ey live in Santa Monica which is a helluva lot closer to Hollywood and not as cr
owded as Venice and more convenient to the I-10 and the I-110 which is how you g
et from Santa Monica to Compton. At least it is if you're not a retard or insan
e or running away from the insane.
When they got off the freeway, Peter was instantly lost, because only the truly
ghetto can navigate The Ghetto, and, alas, Peter was not truly ghetto. Oh, he h
as his ghetto ways about him to be sure, but he's just not trashy or country or
British enough to pull it off. And Micky was far too much the preppy Valley Boy
to be any help. So they just tooled around Rancho Dominguez and Victoria Park
and wasted gas.

Finally, Peter got annoyed with trying to play it cool and decided to stop at a
library to ask directions. Miraculously enough, I was there because I used to w
ork at the library and I just happened to be in there cleaning out the desk beca
use for some reason I am the only person who knows how to do any fucking thing e
ven though I haven't been there in a million years.
"Oh, hey Rosie. I don't know where the fuck I'm supposed to be."
"That's because I made you not understand how to navigate the ghetto. Don't wor
ry, I'll help you. Come back here. You can come too, Micky, but don't think yo
u're getting any. I love you, but not that way. Ew." They followed me past Cyn
thia The Talkative Librarian Who Doesn't Actually Do Any Work But At Least She D
oesn't Expect You To Either, into the breakroom. Peter took off all his clothes
and laid down on the table, while Micky sat down to watch The Mary Sue Sexcapad
es.
<strong><em>Due to the graphic nature of our intense and real love making, this
section has been sanitized for your enjoyment. Thank you for your understanding
.</em></strong>
"FUCK YEAH BITCH!"
<strong><em>We apologize for the incredibly disgusting scene you were forced to
endure. Sometimes our censors are not on the fucking goddamn job because the ce
nsors are inside of the FUCKING AUTHOR WHO IS SCREWING PETER TORK WTF instead of
telling the pertinent part of the story. We will resume cleansing this section
and return you to your regularly scheduled perfectly crafted fan fiction of glo
ry and light in just a moment. Thank you for your cooperation and support.</em>
</strong>
"That's a big help, thanks so much, Rosie," Peter said with a slow, satisfied sm
ile.
"No sweat, babe. Tell Mike and Davy that if they need anything, they know where
to find me, if you know what I mean."
"I read ya loud and clear, babe.
Micky bounced on his heels, annoyed. "Hey, what about me?? Don't I get some lo
ve?"
Rosie smiled and shook her head. "No, baby. You get all the fuckwitted hilario
us lines of amusement and laffs. But if you want sex, you'd better go find one
of those blind ass fangirls on Donatella's who think that kissing a cat's anus i
s hot. Run along now, your friends need you! :D" Yes, Rosie did say ":D," for
I am Rosie and I am the author and I can do what I want. Plus I'm black, so you
know I got it like that. RECOGNIZE BITCHES.
<strong>Commercial break.</strong>
Peter pulled up to
h of loudass punks
osed to the world.
the unholy sleaze
n get the hell out

the corner where Mike and Davy were talking trash with a bunc
watching some sleazy looking chick sashay by with her ass exp
Peter covered his eyes quickly, lest he be forever burned by
of Cheap Prostitute Ass. "Mick, go get those idiots so we ca
of Sodom."

"You do realize the irony in that statement, right Peter?"

"GET OUT!"

A few moments later, the car bounced and Peter was shoved roughly aside. Micky
whined from somewhere above and behind his head, "AWWWW I CALLED SHOTGUN!"
"You can kiss my white ass, motherfucker. Get your ass in the fucking car or yo
u're gettin left," Mike said.
"Yay, Michael!" Peter scootched up to Mike and put his arms around his neck.
"The fuck? Um, in case you haven't noticed, we're still in The Ghetto! Get the
fuck up offa me!" Mike shrugged him off and shoved him back to the passenger's
side. "Damn, fool, you wanna get shot up in here?"
"wtf, why are you talking like that," Micky asked. Peter heard a distinct pop.
"OW!"
"Shut up, bitch," Davy said. "Menfolks is talking."
Peter blinked a million gazillion fufillion times. "Uh, do I have to be quiet,
too?"
Mike turned the corner and they were instantly in the carpool lane on the Harbor
Freeway, which is still The Ghetto, but it's enroute to Downtown Los Angeles, w
here Whitey is allowed and therefore acceptable to engage in such ridiculously P
reppy White Ass Behavior as smiling at men while being male. "Nah, not anymore
good buddy. You can tell us all about your day with Fugly back there."
"Okay, this is just getting- OW GODDAMMIT!"
"Was he talking to you?"
Peter turned around in his seat and smiled sweetly. "Aw, don't worry Micky, I'l
l still fuck you with the paper bag. I'm not very particular about the body I'm
ripping into."
"Uh... OW WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP THAT DAVID??"
"Bitch, did I say the menfolk were done talking yet?"
"But-"
"DID I SAY THEY WERE DONE??"
"Mike, I think Davy needs to go on a date, he's getting a little wound up," Pete
r said woefully.
"Nah, he's just frustrated because he knows you got to do Rosie this time around
but I'm carrying our love child."
"WAT."
"Oh would you get off that, Mike? Damn, next thing I know you're gonna have you
r hand all in my wallet - wait, nevermind."
Mike pulled over in the shoulder and started to bawl. "How can you be so cruel?
?! Davy you know you mean the world to me!! Do you want our child to grow up i
n a loveless marriage?"
Peter threw his arms around Mike's neck. "Do not despair, Michael! For I shall
love you enough for Davy and Fugmo back there too! Remember, we are a <em>fami
ly</em>, all <em>four of us, and you can <strong>not keep us out of your life!

Let us <span style="text-decoration: underline;">in, Robert Michael Nesmith!!!1!

!1!!!!one!!!!wtf is this dickery</span></strong></em>"
"Oh okay. So we cool, Davy? Davy? Davy?"
Mike and Peter turned around to see Davy beating Micky over the head with one of
the cushions from the backseat.
<strong>Commercial break.</strong>
When they walked into the house, Mike looked like he'd swallowed a beachball, wh
ich was kinda skary, seeing as how he was only wearing an untanned possum skin t
ied around his waist to hold his old green hat over his harble, and he hadn't ea
ten a decent meal since, oh, The Monkees were formed. Davy had the words <stron
g>Maracas 4 Lyfe </strong>tattooed in an arch over his belly button, and about 2
98347928374 pounds of bling on his fingers, around his neck, embedded in his tee
th, and stuck in random places on his face. Peter had to help Micky into the ho
use after the vicious beating he'd received at the hands of Michael's baby daddy
.
Mike lowered himself into one of the chairs and wondered how he would get himsel
f out of this mess. SUDDENLY HE WAS HAVING A BABY!!!11!!!!1!!!ELEVEN!!!!OH MY G
OD EXCLAIMATION POINT He tried to remember some bullshit about breathing, but t
hen the contractions started and he realized the kid didn't really have an exit
point. "Well, I need my spectacular manhood for screwing the hell out of random
ass emoSues who think I'm married with a child already, so that route is out.
And I don't really want a shit covered baby, so we can't go that way either. Ma
ybe I'll just chalk it up to morning sickness and be done with it." And so he s
tuck his hand all the way down to where his uterus would be but instead there wa
s a random box he bought online from John Cleese and opened it up to pull out hi
s very first child and a bag of eaten Fritos he'd stolen from the chicken sto.
Before they were eaten, though. He stole. Okay.
"EW WTF MIKE IS PURGING RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVING ROOM OH GOD GET THERAP
Y PLEASE YOUR EATING DISORDER IS MAKING MY LIFE HARD," Micky said dramatically.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP THATS MY SON MOTHERFUCKER" Davy said all hard and ghetto, for
he'd realized that there are plenty of ghetto mofos in Santa Monica which is whe
re The Monkees live goddammit.
"THE CEILING. IT'S GOING DOWN THE TOILET. ACID. DON'T GIVE IT TO ME." Peter m
acroed.
"BLEARGH," Mike... did.
"lol omg like im married to peter but mike is soooooooooooo sexy i will get preg
gers and then dump peter because he doesnt no how to sex me as good as mike beca
use he only knows how to do things like mike when he remembers to talk with the
accent and to use his dimple on dumb bitches in restaurants lolololololololololo
lolololololololololol omg even old mike is sexy and not just because hes mike we
ll actually yeah only because hes mike not because he still IS mike because he i
snt we all no that omg lolol plus fillis is like my bestest friend because she d
oesnt no hispanic h0rs so she dosnt no that im just a stupid cuntrag hi daddy le
ts have a bb now!!!" said the thing Mike pulled out of his... uh... gestational
box.
"I need a refund. Monty Python just isn't as funny as it used to be," Mike comp
lained.
<strong>Interview ftw.</strong>

Rosie: So, Monkees. You're back for a third season.

Mike: Well, technically, no. There's no filming, and we're not even really here.
Peter: See, that's why I got laid and you got to be all emo wtf, that's not how
you talk to a lady, man.
Mike: Shut the fuck up before I kick your little yellow ass, PacMan.
Peter: As you can see, there's still a lot of UST here.
Rosie: What's that, Peter? What's UST?
Davy: Bitch, plz, you're a fucking fangirl, don't act like you don't know what t
he fuck he means. Goddammit. Are you gonna pass the goddamn blunt or what, Mic
ky?
Micky: :: dumbass stoner smile ::
Rosie: wtf, where'd you get the indo from, I don't smoke!
Mike: Listen, if you're gonna make us go through this shit, we need our own shit
to go... through. Whatever. But I don't want any, I'm the designated driver.
Peter: Bullshit, you're just terrified of the munchies, with your whinerexic ass
. Hey, I think your ass is spreading...
Mike: NO I'M THE DESIGNATED DRIVER FUCK THIS INTERVIEW AND FUCK YOU OH GOD I'M S
O FAT! :: runs off crying ::
Rosie: uh...
<strong>Roll credits to Ditty Diego</strong>