PSYCHEDELIC
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Propinquity(I've just begun to care)
This story was made by Vallerie and Ben for this SITE ONLY. Please do not steal this story.
    Mike hung up the phone and sat staring at the wall for a moment.  Then he sighed, and picked up his guitar, strumming thoughtfully.  Micky came down, combing his curly brown hair, though it did no good, and saw Mike’s face.  "Hey man, has love struck again?"  He said in a silly voice, pounding a fist into his chest, then coughing.
    Mike just laughed, "Well, naw, me and Vallerie are just friends, you know."  Micky just nodded, "Sure Mike, whatever you say babe."  And walked over to the mirror, grimacing into it.  He threw the comb in Mike’s direction, and it hit it's mark, bouncing neatly off of his hat.

    Mike turned and set his guitar down, vaulting the couch and going after Micky.  They chased around the house until Micky tripped on his own drumstick and went sprawling.  Mike jumped on him, sitting on his back.
    He proceeded to mess up what little good the comb did, then climbed off of Micky, dusting his hands off.  "Good always triumphs over evil Mick, remember that."  Mike said, returning to his guitar nonchalantly.
    Micky was walking toward the closet when out popped Davy, with about three jackets strewn over his head.  Micky jolted back, not expecting Davy to be in there, "What in the…."cried Micky. Davy coughed, dust flying everywhere, and said, "Has anyone seen my new tambourine?  I coulda  sworn I left it down here somewhere…."  His voice trails off as he begins to search around the room, jackets falling as he does.
    Micky scratched his head, then remembered, "Oh, I used it as a drink tray last night, it’s over in the kitchen."  Davy ran over to it, and clutched it to his chest.  "I’ve been looking for this for hours!  It cost me nearly $10.  Hey, who was on the phone before, I was trying to call Linda for almost an hour, but, I couldn’t get through."
    Micky just laughed and pointed at Mike, who was not paying attention. "It was Vallerie, her and Mike can talk for hours about nothing."  Mike looked up at the mention of Vallerie’s name, and gave Micky an annoyed look, "Gees, we’re just friends, give it a rest Mick."  He said, tuning his guitar.
    Micky and Davy just exchanged knowing glances and walked off to separate rooms.  Then Peter came bursting in through the door.  "Guys, the house next door’s on fire, they need help!"  Everyone came running and rushed over to the next house along the beach.
    Sure enough, a bright blaze was coming through the windows, and a thick line of smoke through the chimney.  They all stood stunned for a moment, then they heard a faint voice from the second floor yelling out a window.  "Help, the stairs are blocked, I can’t get out!"
    They looked up to see a small child flailing her arms out the window, flames flashing from behind.  They saw about 6 other people milling about the outside of the house, tending to those who had gotten out.  A woman, obviously the mother, began to scream that her baby was still in the house.
    The Monkees looked at each other and all rushed inside.  They coughed inside the thick blanket of smoke that lay in the air.  Micky shielded his eyes with his arm and started for the stairs.  Mike pulled him back.
    "Mick, it’s to hard to see, you’ll be blind up there, not to mention, the smoke’ll choke you.  You can’t!!"  Then they both turned to face the steps, the cries of the child filtering down.  They looked back at each other, blinking the tears from the smoke out of their eyes and nodded.  They both rushed upthe stairs.
     Peter and Davy went about on the bottom floors, and found a cat laying under a coffee table,mewing piteously.  They rushed out with it, and it sooncalmed down.  They looked up at the second story with worried eyes, they heard nothing. They both stroked the cat nervously.
    Micky stumbled through the darkness, the smoke taking overhis lungs.   He gasped, lungs burning, and staggered to his knees.  Mike tripped over him, and saw he wasn’t doing good.  He rushed to the top of the stairs, and saw that the fire hadn’t taken over the passage way out, but, almost.
    He vaulted over a table in the hall, and narrowly escaped getting burned.  He rounded a corner, and saw a small girl huddled on the floor, her nightshirt seemingly sticking to her trembling body.  He scooped her up and ran down the stairs.  There he lifted Micky to his feet and led him out.  They had reached the entranceway when a large clock fell over the door.
    Mike felt Micky lean hard against him, and noticed Micky’s eyes weren’t open at all.  He looked down and saw that the little girl was also not awake.  He began to get frantic.  He set her down and tried to push away the clock, it wouldn’t budge.
     A ceiling timber fell and slammed on top of the clock.  Mike’s hand was caught underneath it, and he screamed out.  He felt like it had been cut off, and he pulled and pulled to release it.  He began to feel dizzy, and his vision worsened.
     He coughed, and felt dizzy.  He looked down, though, and saw the two on the floor.  He suddenly felt more alert, he had to get them all out.  He pulled hard again at his hand, and it came out, bloodied and burned.  He kicked savagely at the clock, and broke a hole through the center of it.  He continued to kick away at the hole until it was quite large.
    Then he picked up the girl, and pushed her through it.  He could hear her mother on the other side shrieking with joy.  Then he dragged Micky over and pushed him through.  He began to gasp as soon as he was hit with fresh air.  Then he tried to get himself through.
     He squirmed his way out and landed on the sand with a thud.  Already, he was losing consciousness, and blinked drowsily.  All he could think of as he began to close his eyes was, *I didn’t tell Vallerie I loved her*  Then he saw all three of his friends standing over him, along with some firefighters.
     He continued to gaspfor air, though it hurt tremendously to do so.  Micky took hold of his good hand, and Davy stood back a bit, frightened.  Peter sat next to him, crying.  The firefighter placed a mask over Mike’s face.
    He struggled for a second, he didn’t like this at all, then he started feeling better, pure oxygen pumping into his burned lungs.  They took off the mask and checked his pulse.  He was slipping fast.   He looked up at Micky, who was gazing worriedly down at him.  "Micky, tell Vallerie I love her, I didn’t--"  Then he passed out.
    Mike woke much later, dressed in a hospital gown, and laying on a clean white bed.  He shifted and gasped, his back stung.  He lay still, and the pain stopped, then Micky looked up.  He had been reading a book next to Mike’s bed, and hadn’t noticed him wakeup.
     He smiled and slid closer to him, "Hey, finally awake."  Micky said, closing his book and laying it on the bedside table.  Mike nodded, and made to answer, but his voice was cut off.  Micky pointed to a tube that led from Mike’s mouth to a machine. "Your lungs are burned, this things helping you breath, you can’t talk."
    Mike gulped, and stared nervously at the numerous machines that lined the wall by his bed.  There was a heart machine, an IV, and the one that helped him breath.  Micky caught sight of Mike’s sudden fear and patted his good hand, "Hey, you’ll be fine, you just have to be on this air thing for another hour or so, your lungs just neededa break."
     Mike nodded, and tried to lift his hurt hand.  He gasped out again.  Micky cringed at the look on Mike’s face, "Hey, be careful.  You smashed that one up good when the beam fell on it.  How many times have I told you not to let your hand get smashed by beams?  This is just an act of carelessness…."   Micky went on, shaking his finger at Mike like an annoyed mother.  Mike just laughed.
     Soon after, a nurse came in and took out the tube in Mike’s mouth.  He breathed in air, and coughed, his lungs still stinging.  Micky poured a glass of water and Mike drunk it thirstily.  Then he lay back down, staring at the ceiling.  "Mick, is that girl gonna be OK?"  He asked quietly.
    Micky beamed, "Ya, she’s fine, thanks to you."  Mike smiled then, and Micky couldn’t help but wonder why Mike didn’t smile more, he did it so well.  Then he looked seriously at Micky, "How bout you?"  Micky shrugged, putting his hand within Mike’s view.  On it were about 5 stitches, and a few bruises.  "I just got nicked up, got a little to much smoke, and they made me lay down.  I feel fine now."
     Mike looked at his watch, it was 4 in the morning.  "How long do I have to stay here?"  He asked.  Micky shrugged again, "They said about 2 days.  They just want to make sure everything’s OK.  Your hand should be in that cast for another 6 weeks though."  Mike sighed, he knew what that meant, no guitar.  Then he looked up sheepishly at Micky.
    "Did...did you tell Vallerie what I told you to?"  Micky smiled and got up, "No, you can tell her yourself."  He went outside the door and returned with a very worried looking Vallerie.  Her brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her eyes were wide in fear.  She rushed over to Mike’s side and took his hand.
   "I was so scared!!!  I heard everything, that was amazing, I’m so glad your OK……"  She went on for some time before she looked up to see Mike’s face.  He was smiling affectionately down at her, and his hand was squeezing hers.  She looked him in the eyes, and he took his hand from hers.  He brushed his fingers across her soft cheek, and she leaned forward.  
&nbsHe kissed her deeply, feeling it touch his very soul.  She pulled back, almost stunned, and he sighed.  He looked down, almost ashamed, and whispered, "I should have done that a long time ago.  I just don’t like getting hurt, so I don’t get to close until I’m sure……….Well, what I’m trying to say is, Vallerie, I love you.  I meant to tell you a long time ago.  And when I was laying there outside that house, I thought I’d missed my chance.  I’m sorry I waited so long…."tears were running down his cheeks.
She just silenced him with another passionate kiss.  Then she whispered, "Michael Nesmith doesn’t rush into anything. I was willing to wait, I’m glad I did. I've known for a long time, the kind of guy you are.Of a smile that covers tear drops, the way your head yilelds to your heart"  He smiled, and closed his eyes, sleep taking over, and Mike whispered, "I've known you for a long time, but I've just begun to care..."known for a long time, the kind of guy you are.Of a smile that covers tear drops, the way your head yilelds to your heart"  He smiled, and closed his eyes, sleep taking over, and Mike whipered, "I've known you for a long time, but I've just begun to care..."
If I Ever Get To Saginaw Again
Written bySaginaw26
Mike turned on his side to look at the calendar that hung on his wall. He pulled the covers over his head and sighed deeply. 3 years. He moaned, not wanting to leave his bed. Micky came in when he heard Mike moan. "Good dream or something?" Micky always seemed to crack a joke at the worst time.
    "No, I didn’t, I just feel AWFUL today, are you ok with that?" He pulled himself out from the covers to look Micky in the eyes, a glare on his calm face. Micky backed off, oh no, another Mike mood. He just walked off, and went to his room.
    Mike got out of bed, and grabbed the sheets to cover himself. He closed the door, and pulled on some clothes. He grabbed his hat, and made his bed. He then trudged down the stairs, only to be met with Peter at the bottom.
    "Mike, I think I broke the toaster." Mike moaned again, and this time Davy spoke up, "Good dream or something Mike?" Mike growled at Davy, and he went silent.
    Mike walked over to the toaster, it was smoking, and the smell made him dizzy. He wiggled the handle, and a piece of extremely over burnt toast popped up. Mike pulled out a plate and placed the toast on it. "Here you are Peter, enjoy." Peter stuck his tongue out, :Þ and Mike could feel it with his back turned.
    He wheeled around, and grabbed Peter by the shirt. "Don’t mess with me Tork, not today." He let go and stalked off to Black Beauty. He heard Peter drop the toast, and curse to himself. Mike had a way of making everyone’s day bad when he wanted to.
    Mike didn’t catch any further glances from the guys, he was immersed in his music. Today, the cords seemed to flow from his overly calloused fingers, and the words as well. Then, he realized this song had been circling his head for a long time.
    He got up, packed away Black Beauty, and walked to the door. He grabbed the keys that hung on the wall, and opened the door. Micky came down then, "Mike, I’m gonna need the car today, your gonna have to walk to where ever your going, k?" He backed off a bit, subconsciously, for, he knew what he was saying was not the thing to do, when Mike was like this.
    Mike sighed, and looked up at Micky, his eyes glazed over in sadness. Micky stared hard at him, was this the same Mike who had just sworn at him? He sighed again, and said, "Micky, do you want me to walk to Michigan? I’m gonna be gone a coupla days, your in charge." With that, he closed the door behind him.
    They all ran out to him as he was leaving the driveway. "Where in the hell are you going?" Davy asked rather bewildered. He turned and looked them all in the eyes, "I have to clear up some things I’ve put off for 3 years." With that, he was gone.
    He drove all day, and most of the night, before he pulled over at the Michigan state lines sign to rest. He closed his eyes, and visions filled his head. Being here looking for work, stopping at the road side bar, the girl. He fell in love all over again, seeing her face. The soft way her long brown hair fell down her back, the curve of her neck, her pale eyes.
    He took her to his room that night, and made love to her. He had never felt so in love in his life. Nor had she. They were inseparable from then on. Always hand in hand, smiling in the glow of love.
They were impossible to reach, for, they were living in a world all they’re own. They lived off love, so to speak; that’s all that kept them going. Mike had not, nor since been that happy. Then it happened. She was pregnant.
    He knew he couldn’t support a child, not on what he made. She was thinking about an abortion, but, Mike would have none of that. What was inside of her was his too, and killing it would in turn, also kill a small part of him. He felt her stomach, and even though it was too soon, could have sworn he felt a heart beat. He kissed her then, and it was settled, the baby would come.
    He knew what had to be done, they had to talk to her parents. They were rich, and she had run away, only now returning for help. They had been ecstatic to see they’re little girl, not so much at the scruffy boy who held on tight to her hand.
    They were invited in, and blurted out the cause of they’re visit immediately. Her mother was in tears, her father backing Mike against a wall. He had his fist raised, when Jessica had intervened. "Daddy, it’s not his fault, I’m in love with him, we want your help, not your anger!" She had broken down then, and Mike had gone to comfort her. Her father roughly pushed him away, and hugged her.
Mike had been so mad then, he was ready to tear that man’s neck out. But, he managed to restrain himself, explaining his case instead. "We didn’t want it to happen, but, we want to have the child and raise it. We just need a little help." He looked down, he hated more than anything to use that word.
Her mother came back in, drying her tears, and said in a whisper, "How could you do this to my baby, she’s only 17." She broke down again then, and Mike backed away. She had told him she was 20. She looked up at him, her father draped around her, and started to cry again.
    Mike just stared, a dull spot searing itself into his eyes, a dull glow, that was to follow him for the rest of his days. She was to stay home, and he was to leave,never to come back. This had led to an intense fight, resulting in Mikespending a night in jail.
    He had been nursing a black eye when he heard her voice. He looked up and saw her pale eyes burning into his, and he stood. She was allowed 5 minutes, then, out. She ran in and to his arms.
"I’m so sorry." She wept, "I never meant for any of this to happen, I just wanted to be with you" He held her rocking her in his arms. Then he pulled her away a bit, so he could see her tear stained face. "Why." He asked, more in a statement, than a question.
    Would you have loved me if I had told you the truth?" She looked down. He touched her face, and kissed her cheek. She looked at him with those pale eyes and stated, "His name will be Robert Michael." "How do you know it’s a boy?"
    "Well, let’s just say it’s mother’s intuition." He smiled, his eyes showing pain, and he sighed. He pulled her in close, and kissed her passionately. Then, the guard came and led her out. The sound of the jail cell closing jolted him awake.
    He lay on the front seat, shivering, though it was warm, and drowning in sweat. He sat up, and wiped his face. It had been so real. Then the song hit him again. Soft, and slow, but, the words stung. He pushed it out of his mind, and started the car.
    He drove until he reached a gas station. He picked up a phone book and looked under the name, Jessica Marcus. He found it, jumped for joy, then ripped the page out of the book.
He only rode about a mile or so before coming upon a small white house, in the middle of a small field. He parked the car, and sat there, staring at the house. What now? He had gone dumbstruck. Then the door opened. Mike gasped.
   ;  The girl who looked out was just the same as he had left her. Not a single feature out of place. He continued to sit there, unable to believe what he saw, when she rushed out to him.
     She pulled him from the car, and saw his eyes. She backed off, unable to decide what they meant, then, he pulled her deep in his arms. She smelled so sweet, he thought he’d gone back in time.
They didn’t utter a single word to one another, just stared. She took his hand and led him to the house. It smelled of good food, and love. Then, he heard a voice, small, but clear. "Mommy, who’s there?" Mike gulped.
    "Just an old friend dear, come and see!" She called up the stairs. Mike’s hand began to tremble, and she held onto it firmly. On the landing appeared a small boy, about 3, with the features of the two at the bottom of the stairs. Mike gasped, "Mike?"
    "Hello, who are you?" His voice was sure, and he seemed very glad to meet him. He rushed down the stairs, on his bottom, he seemed a bit off balance at his age yet, and hugged Mike’s leg. Mike looked down and touched the dark hair of the boy, his hair. He looked up with his mother’s eyes. "Mike, this is Mr. Nesmith, he’s going to be staying for a visit." Little Mike rushed back up the stairs, and brought down a picture.
    "Mommy, I was going to give this to you, but, Mr. Nesmith looks like he needs it more." He handed Mike a picture of a sun with a bright smile on his face. Mike took it in trembling hands, and started to cry. "Mike, go upstairs and pick up your mess, Mommy has to talk to Mr. Nesmith alone for a minute, OK?" Little Mike’s eyes stared solemnly at the two, and he nodded, heading back up.
She led him to a couch, and sat him down. He sobbed, the picture laying on his lap. She held him, and they rocked. After a moment, he cleared his throat and looked up. She smiled and touched his cheek. He leaned in and was about to kiss her when Little Mike came sliding back down the stairs. "I’mdone."
     They both jolted back, and started to laugh. Little Mike walked over, and climbed up onto Mike’s lap. He was so real. Mike hugged him, holding the small body close to his. Little Mike hugged back, and smiled. "Your just as good at hugging as Mommy!" He laughed again, and they talked for hours.
That night, Mike put Little Mike to bed. As he laid the sleeping form down, he felt a large bolder lifting from his shoulders. He sighed, and kissed Little Mike’s cheek, then left.
    Jessica was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She got up and hugged him again, closer than before, if that was possible. He lifted her up and over to the couch. He laid her down there, and knelt next to her. She smiled back up at him, that same look in her eye as the night he had taken her to his room. "Nothing’s changed, nothing at all. How is that possible?" Mike’s voice was quiet, and he chose his words carefully. She shrugged, "Why change was isn’t broken?" She grabbed his shirt, and pulled him down to her. Her lips pressed softly against his, and he felt himself falling into her pale eyes. There was no turning back.
    He carried her to her room, a wave of pleasure streaked through her, and she smiled. He lost his hands in her dark hair, and he couldn’t help but feel 3 years younger. They continued on like this for a while more, then, he positioned himself. He turned to look at her, her face buried in his neck, and kissed her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her and slept, warmed by the heat of her body.
    They woke the next morning to Little Mike bouncing up and down on the bed, laughing and giggling. Mike sat up and grabbed him, tickling him gently. Everyone laughed then, and Mike never felt like leaving.
    They spent the day in the field, playing and laughing and singing. Mike brought Black Beauty out, and did a whole concert in the quiet meadow. The day came to a close, and Mike put Little Mike to bed again, this time, he wasn’t asleep with he laid him down though. Mike kissed his cheek, and whispered, "I love you Mike, don’t ever forget that."
    Little Mike had been drifting off, and mumbled the sweetest words Mike would ever hear, "I love you too, Daddy." Mike stumbled out of the room, awestruck, and leaned against the wall. Jessica came up to him, and touched his hand.
    "He said, ‘I love you, Daddy’, can you believe it?" He breathed deeply, not seeming to get enough air. She just kissed him again, and held him close. Mike suddenly knew what he had to do.
He ran to the living room, and picked up Black Beauty. He tuned it up, and sat down. Jessica sat down at his feet, enjoying every minute of his soft melodic playing. He started the song that had cursed him for 3 years.
     By the end, they were both crying, and he stood up. He helped her to her feet, and repeated some lines from the song, "And perhaps I’ll quietly withdraw again, when I see the little man that he became."
    He wiped a tear that streaked it’s way down her dark skin, and kissed her one more time, with all the love and passion ever shared. Then he walked to the door, and looked back once more. She was silent, he smiled, and said, "If I ever get to Saginaw again, I’ll look you up." And closed the door.
The End Contrary to popular belief, I Propinquity, Did not write this. This was written by a talented girl. If you would like to express yourself and your feelings to her (ABOUT THE STORY)click here -> saginaw26@aol.com

This picture was provided by the talented Kokani, A Monkee Friend of mine. She has several items in the Monkee Art gallery, that shows her true talents. Please check it out. Kokani



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