I then remembered why I’d dragged Sam in here in the first place -- and I grabbed my script.
"Here -- read fast. We gotta go back and do that scene!" I turned to Al, "Now that our ‘other leaper’ has showed, does Ziggy have any answers?"
He tapped the handlink and shook his head. "Nada . . . but I’ll go and get somethin’ . . . and make sure our guests are comfortable in the Waiting Room." He opened the Imaging Chamber door and winked at me, "See ya later beautiful!" The door closed.
Moments later, there was a knock on the door, "Come on you two! We gotta get goin again!" Jim called.
"Think you can do the scene?" I asked Sam quietly enough that Jim couldn’t hear. He nodded and we headed back to the set.
Al stepped into the Waiting Room to see Micky and Peter discussing their predicament -- as they saw each others’ auras.
"Hey man -- I’m Micky! This happened to me once before -- trust me Pete man, it’s me!!"
"You’re a chick!"
Al grinned and cleared his throat, "I’m afraid he’s right Peter. That is Micky and you’ve both switched places with two of our scientists -- Sam Beckett and Agnes Garreffa."
"See!?" Micky gloated.
Peter sighed. "At least it’s a break from filming." He sat on the clear table/bed in the center of the room.
"Well, I have to get back to Aggie and Sam. Do either of you need anything?" Al asked.
"Food . . . I’m starving. Chili perhaps?"
"Just some blank sheet music and a guitar . . . oh and a veggie sandwich too please."
Al smiled. Micky and his appetite certainly hadn’t changed a bit since Sam had lept into him. "No problem. I’ll send someone in with those right away." Al left the Waiting Room and headed into the Control Room.
"Gooshie, send Verbena to get chili and a veggie sandwich -- and Aggie’s guitar and blank sheet music from her room, and bring them to our visitors," he ordered, then looked up at the glowing ball above his head that held most of Ziggy’s parts. "Anything new Ziggy?"
"Tina has taken the day off to go shopping in Santa Fe," the neurocomputer responded.
"I mean, so far as the leap goes? Why are they there?" Al snapped.
"Nothing so far. Might I suggest you take a break and go get something to eat. Perhaps I will have some answers for you by the time you return."
Al grumbled, "Fine. But you better have something by the time I’m done eating."
Meanwhile, back on the set, Sam was having major troubles with the script. Unlike me, a huge Monkees fan who loves to imitate Micky’s antics, Sam was not able to let loose and improvise like I can.
We were now working on the opening scene, where Peter gets the fortune cookie. Sam, with all his degrees and IQ points, was having a tough time playing "dumb."
"Yes you can -- you brought me here!"
"Cut!! Peter -- what is it with you today? You’re not acting like yourself," Jim cried. Sam just shrugged. "Well, then, we’ll call it a day. Get a good night’s sleep -- maybe you’ll be yourself in the morning."
"I’ll drive you home big Peter," I told him, "Go change."
Al, feeling much better after a hearty meal, returned to the Control Room in a much better mood an hour later. "Anything now?" he asked Ziggy.
"Nothing concrete but there seems to be something wrong wtih David’s history. Too bad Agnes is there and not here -- she could pinpoint the problem much more quickly than I can," Ziggy replied.
"Thanks a lot. Get started working -- you won’t be getting any help from Agnes," he snorted and headed for the Imaging Chamber, handlink in hand. He stepped inside and called, "Gooshie! Center me on Aggie and Sam!" Images swirled around him and he found himself in Micky’s house and Sam was being given lessons in improvisation by Agnes.
"Okay Sam," I said, "Now, let’s try something very simple." I held up my hand, and pretended I was clutching a ball. "Look, I’ve got a bright blue ball here. It’s got pretty powder blue swirls on it. Now, catch!" I motioned as if tossing the ball to him, and Sam just stood there.
"There is no ball."
"I know that Sam! But the whole point of this exercise is to exercise your imagination. Let’s try it again -- you must pretend like you’re catching and throwing an invisible ball." I held up my hand, ‘tossed’ the ball a few times, and then tossed it to Sam. This time, he caught it and threw it back to me.
"So how is this going to help me with the show?" he asked.
"Jim played this game with the guys months ago, when the show first started filming. You’re starting from the ground up, just like they did."
"Okay. Do we have time for me to learn all of this, though?"
"Crash course. I’ll just take you through a few games, and then we’ll pull out an old script and play around with it a bit."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Why did I leap in here, if you know this stuff so well?"
I shrugged. "God, Time, Fate, whatever -- decided it wanted you here. Who am I to argue with that?"
We played the ball game a little longer, then tried a game called "Freeze," and making up characters on the spot. Then I pulled out an early version of the script for "Monkee See, Monkee Die" that I had accidentally run across when getting ready for bed the other night and fooled around with that. After that I pronounced him ready for filming and shooed him off to bed. Al left the Imaging Chamber and headed to bed.
The next morning, Al walked down to the Control Room after breakfast to find Tina and Gooshie both inside control panels, mumbling and grunting.
"Hey, what’s up gorgeous?" he asked Tina, and leaned down to tickle her ankle.
She slid out, feet first, and regarded Al with a look, "Ziggy blew a few circuits and we’re trying to fix it. Go have a cigar or something -- the Imaging Chamber is inoperable until we get this fixed."
Al groaned and did as she said, walking outside to smoke a couple cigars.
I woke up early -- very rare, and got dressed quickly, then woke Sam up. I drilled him on lines as we drove to the set. When we reached the set I headed straight for the commisary table and made sure Micky’s reputation was not smearched -- I gobbled down a bowl of cereal and orange juice plus three muffins and a bagel. Sam just had some fruit.
We headed into makeup and got into our costumes for the first scenes of the day -- when we’re in the CIS office because of Peter’s grabbing of the top secret fortune cookie. I was extremely nervous that Sam would mess up . . . but I didn’t let that hinder my own performance. First we filmed Mike, Davy, and I, er, Micky in the CIS office panicking. Then came Peter’s entrance and the two nearly completely improvised bits -- the jumping up and down together and the bit after the head CIS man says "they’re clean."
Sam walked in and joined the three of us . . . and he did a good job of jumping up and down with excitement. Then came the bit I was really worried about . . . and I got so involved in my own improvisation I never noticed how well Sam did! But apparently it was good enough that Jim didn’t yell "Cut!"
After Al had his cigars he went back inside just to find out that they still needed another hour to fix Ziggy. He decided to check up on the pair in the Waiting Room while he waited. He stepped in to hear a song in progress.
"We were born to love one another,
This is something we all need,
We were born to love one another,
We must be what we’re going to be,
And what we have to be is free."
As they finished singing, Al clapped. "That was terrific!" he cried. Peter beamed.
"Thank you. We’re planning on putting that on the next album -- "
"If he ever chooses a title! For pete’s sake, he’s given me fifteen titles he likes already!" Micky interrupted.
"Hey -- ‘For Pete’s Sake’ -- that’s a groovey one. What do you think Al?" Peter asked.
"Sounds good to me. So, how are both of you doing?"
"Fine. I’m getting a lot of work done," Peter replied.
"Peace, quiet, and sleep -- I’m getting just what I need!" Micky added.
"Yeah, I guess you could use a break from that relentless schedule, huh?" Al grinned.
"You better believe it!" Micky cried, bouncing up and down on the table/bed where he sat.
Just then the handlink beeped in Al’s pocket, and he excused himself, returning to the Control Room and Ziggy. "What’s up Ziggy?"
"I have discovered why Dr Beckett and Miss Garreffa are in 1967."
We got through the next scene, when Dragonman gives Peter and Micky the opportunity to try and find the "door to freedom," with no problems, but as the crew gave us a short break so they could fix the lighting and prepare for the next scene, I heard Davy’s distinctive yell coming from offstage.
" 'Elp!!"
Al popped in just then, handlink clutched tightly in one hand. "Aggie -- we just found out why you’re here -- Davy’s gonna be kidnapped!"
I glared at him. "Davy just was," and I ran off in the direction of the yell.
Sam noticed and followed me. Al popped out and reappeared in front of me.
"He’s gone! The chick who kidnapped him is off in her mobil home with Davy in tow -- and Nesmith’s unconscious -- the chick punched him out!"
Sure enough, as I jogged back towards the set to grab the keys to Micky’s car, there was Mike, being revived by Jim Frawley and various crew.
"Be right back Jim. Peter and I think we saw where Davy was being taken," I said and gave him no chance to reply as I headed back to Micky’s car where Sam was waiting for me and started after Davy and his kidnapper, following Al’s directions.
"There it is!" Al cried as he spotted a mobile home ahead, "Boy, she’s gonna make Kathy Bates in Misery look like little orphan Annie!"
I gunned the accelerator, attempting to catch up. "Why? What’s she gonna do?"
"Well, she’s gonna try and force Davy into marrying her," he read off of the handlink.
"Is she heading for the Justice of the Peace?" Sam asked.
"Sure is. How’d you know?" Al asked,
"Hunch . . . and I just spotted a sign for the turnoff to the courthouse on the road.
"Was it exit 46A? Cause it looks like she’s gettin off there!" I read off the exit ramp sign as I flew by it at 65 mph, following the mobil home.
"Sure was. How’re we gonna stop them?" Sam asked.
"By being witnesses," I said as I flew onto a side street to try and take a shortcut to reach the courthouse first.
"WHAT?!?" Sam and Al yelled together.
"Trust me!" I cried as I swung Micky’s Mercedes into the parking lot of the parking lot of the courthouse and shifted into park almost before the car was stopped. "Come on!" I led the way into the courthouse. Sam followed close behind as I chose a back entrance and snuck into the lobby. Peering around a potted plant, I listened carefully and heard the crazed woman who had Davy in tow assigned to courtroom number two. I led Sam into that room and we sat down, pretending to be regular people pulled off the street to sit in on court cases.
A few minutes later, the woman stepped in, unobtrusively dragging Davy along beside her. I poked Sam and pointed them out.
After a few cases were heard, the clerk announced the "marriage of Mr. David Thomas Jones and Miss Janis Diana Montgomery." A few gasps were heard -- obviously from those who had heard of the Monkees.
I winked at Sam -- I had a plan. I figured my plan was foolproof -- and I briefly wondered why Sam was here too.
I fidgeted through most of the ceremony, until the judge asked, "If there is anyone here who feels that these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
I jumped up. "I do! She dragged David off the set today, five minutes before he was scheduled to be in a scene."
The woman whirled and pulled a gun on me. The courtroom quickly cleared, except for Sam, myself and a few court personnel. I slowly put up my arms. Sam had ducked down on the floor when I stood and out of the corner of my eye I saw that he was now crawling around on the floor to sneak up behind the crazed woman.
"Look . . . let’s just talk huh? I mean, guns don’t solve anything. They’re just a coward’s way out. Now, why don’t you put down the gun and we’ll talk this over peaceably . . . make love not war . . . " I held one hand up in a peace sign.
"No! Davy’s mine! He’s never going to get stars in his eyes for another woman!" she cried. Beside her, Davy’s eyes widened and he gave her a shocked look which she luckily didn’t notice.
"Um, Janis -- may I call you Janis? Janis, those stars are fake!"
"No they’re not! I saw those stars when he greeted me on the set!"
"Man, this chick is psycho!" Al whistled, "She’s been in the psychiatric ward five times already!"
I kept my face as neutral as possible while Sam and two cops snuck up behind her. I never looked away from her, and she never suspected a thing until her hands were being handcuffed behind her back.
"No! He’s mine!" she screamed as she was being dragged away. Sam led Davy over to me.
"You okay Dave?" I asked.
"Thanks to you mate! And I thought all you knew how to do was be funny! And thanks to you too Petah," he said, and patted both of us on the back.
Sam just grinned. I leaned my elbow on Davy’s shoulder. He elbowed me in the side and said, "Come on. I ‘ave to get my clothes out of her trailer." He led the way out of the court, and Sam and I shielded him from prying eyes and cameras as we headed out to get Davy’s clothes, then drove back to the studio in Micky’s Mercedes. Filming was suspended for the rest of the day, and Sam and I drove back to Micky’s house for a drink.
"So, I guess we’ll be leaping soon," Sam mused over his Pepsi.
"Yeah. Thanks for helping me out," I replied, sipping at my orange juice.
Just then the blue light of leaping overtook him and he lept, leaving a very confused Peter in his place.
"Hey Mick . . . gee, for some reason I don’t remember comin back here for a drink," Peter said, then had a sip of his Pepsi, "and why am I drinking Coke?"
"Not Coke, Pepsi. Never say the C word around me," I said and shuddered, "And you got so stone drunk after we finished up for the day on the set, I brought you back here to sober up."
"Okay . . . thanks, man. What time is it anyway?"
"Time for bed. You’re bunking here, and don’t try and convince me otherwise. Tomorrow we’re finishing up filming this episode and then goin’ back in the studio to work on Mike’s song."
The next morning Peter woke me up nice and early, cheerfully singing "Your Auntie Grizelda" until I woke up and smacked him with my pillow. He was in good spirits, having brushed off his loss of memory as the result of getting drunk. He insisted on driving to the set, claiming he felt stone sober and he wanted to thank me for pulling him out of his predicament.
After filming was completed, we drove to the recording studio where I was ordered into the recording booth by Mike. "Okay Dolenz. They seem to think my voice isn’t commercial enough so you are going into that booth and recording the vocals for ‘The Girl I Knew Somewhere’ -- and I want it done in one take!" Mike ordered.
"Sure man, no problem!" I replied and headed in, grabbing the headphones and looking over the lyrics, recementing the sound of the song in my mind.
"You tell me that you've never been this way before,
You tell me things I know that I've heard somewhere,
You're standing in the places,
And you're staring down through faces
That bring to mind traces of a girl,
A girl that I knew somewhere.
I just can't put my finger on what it is,
That says to me watch out don't believe her,
I can't give any reasons, girl,
My thoughts are bound down in a whirl,
I just can't think who in the world
Was that girl, I know I met her somewhere.
Someway, somehow,
The same thing was done,
Someone, somewhere,
Did me the same wrong.
Well, goodbye, dear, I just can't take this chance again,
My fingers are still burning from the last time,
And if your love was not a game,
I only have myself to blame,
That's as may be, I can't explain,
Just ask the girl that I knew somewhere.
And if your love was not a game,
I only have myself to blame,
That's as may be, I can't explain,
Just ask the girl that I knew somewhere."
As the music faded away in the headphones I looked up to the control booth to see Mike’s smiling face and I knew I’d completed the take to his satisfaction. He walked into the recording booth and as I took off the headphones he patted me on the shoulder.
"Good job Dolenz!" he cried, and I felt a tingling sensation as I lept.
Last updated 11 AUG 98
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