Lenora's Fiction Archive

The Dream part 11

"Great. Weíre stuck here!" Davy moaned.

"Why donít you grow above those trees and look for a boat, shrimp?" Mike teased. Davy grew to 6'2" and cocked his fist.

"Yeah and let someone discover our powers? Are you nuts?" Micky cried.

"Heís got a point. We have to figure out some way to get home without revealing our powers," Peter added quietly.

"Which means flying is out," I added. "Maybe we can build a boat and sail back to the mainland?"

"There are large trees . . . " Peter started eyeing a large, thick tree that was right near us.

"And no tools to hollow them out!" Mike burst out. "Face it gang, we gotta send out an SOS somehow."

"Something that can be seen from the air . . . a plane is bound to come this way sooner or later!"

Three hours later we had used bright green leaves to draw an SOS in the sand. We settled down and built a fire -- Peter had been a boy scout and some skills you never forgot. There were some orange and coconut trees on the island and Micky and I managed to squeeze plenty of orange juice for everyone to drink. I pulled out the swiss army knife that Iíd bought in the hotel -- another item I was having trouble living without, and carved coconut meat that we roasted for dinner. We sent Davy to search for more food and he brought back a few armfuls of bananas -- having grown to ten feet to be able to carry so much. Isa had gone for a walk alone and when she returned she was carrying a huge palm frond filled with clams. We sat down to eat just as the sun was setting.

"Well I think we managed to put together a mighty nice dinner . . . I just hope we donít have to repeat the experience," Mike drawled. "These clams are delicious -- howíd you manage to find such great clams Isa?"

"Thatís for me to know and you to find out!" she giggled.

"Well Iím happy with the orange juice and bananas, thank you very much," I said.

"Whyís that . . . oh never mind." Micky blushed a little as he realized he did know -- through the link.

"What is it Mick?" Peter asked gently.

"He read my mind through our link," I said, and I too blushed as I realized we hadnít mentioned the link to the others yet.

"READ YOUR MIND?" Mike gasped.

"Yeah. When we were searching the plane we discovered we can read each otherís minds. Itís actually kinda neat, if you get past the fact that we donít have any privacy anymore," Micky explained.

"Can you read any of our minds?" Isa asked.

I concentrated, trying to read her mind. I sensed Micky trying the same thing with Mike. We simultaneously opened our eyes and shook our heads. "No."

Peter laughed. "You know, you two spoke in unison. You were like twins before but now . . . " He broke off, shaking his head and laughing even harder.

"Ah shaddup," we said . . . then broke down into giggles as we realized weíd spoken in unison again.

I heard Mike whisper to Isabel, "And you thought they were hard to live with before!" She giggled softly.

"Yeah, Ďey, youíre even starting to look alike!" Davy said.

"Nonsense. It just seems like that cause theyíre actiní more like each other," Mike drawled. "And if everyone is done eating, letís turn in."

"Shouldnít we post watches? What if someone comes to rescue us during the night? Or the pilot shows up?" Peter asked.

"Youíve got a point olí buddy. Youíve got first watch. Wake me in three hours. Iíll take second watch. Micky has third, Davyís got fourth."

"What about us?" Isa asked.

"Yeah, what about us?" I echoed.

"YOU sleep! We men will stand watch." I growled and bopped Mike in the head with an invisible forcefield. "Hey! Donít do that!"

"Okay, bed time everyone!" Peter interrupted.

We pulled out blankets and borrowed hotel towels for our bedding. I was the only one with actual pillows, as I preferred my pillows to the hotelís. I awoke four hours later . . . when Mike prodded Micky into wakefulness.

"Come on man, get up, itís your turn."

"I donít wanna . . . "

"Stop whininí or youíll wake somebody up."

"Too late," I groaned and sat up. "You woke me as soon as you woke Micky."

Mike turned and glared at me. "Naw, I pinched him in the foot to wake him up. How could that have woken you?"

"Whaddaya mean? You pinched me too!" I said . . . "Man, I felt you pinchiní his foot!"

"The link?" Micky asked.

"Must be. Man, just how deep is this link?" I wondered.

Mike yawned. "You can figure that out in the morning. Iím gettiní some sleep." He went and curled up next to Isabel, sliding up next to her until they were like nestled spoons. I chuckled.

Gee, no wonder why she never sleeps over! I thought to Micky.

Yeah man, cause they donít wanna hear my teasing . . . but itís too late now! he replied and I sensed him thinking up wicked plans to drive the pair up the wall as he stoked the fire.

Donít even think about it shotgun! They donít need it right now, what with adjustiní to powers and all. Give it a rest . . . at least for a little while. I yawned but I was wide awake now and I suspected I wasnít going to sleep until Micky did. There had to be a physical component to the link for this to be happening. I walked over to the fire and snuggled into his lap. I think Iíll keep you company for your watch.

You mean you think youíll curl up in my lap and keep me company cause you canít fall asleep while Iím wide awake? I just smiled and snuggled closer, enjoying how wonderful he smelled.

Sheís a wonderful lady and sheís mine, all mine . . . he sang mentally.

You think so shotgun? He giggled and tossed another stick on the fire.

When the two hours were up, Micky grinned at me and, from our spot, smacked Davy with an invisible field. The little man flew up in the air, startled. When he landed he glared at us.

"Okay, which one of ye did it?" We pointed toward each other, grinning. Davy shook his head and tossed a few more twigs on the fire. "Fine. Go to sleep and leave me alone. Iím in no mood for your antics."

Micky and I moved to where our blankets were and rearranged them so that we were now curled up much like Mike and Isa. We fell asleep in seconds, and didnít wake up until long after the others.

"Wake up twins!" Mike barked.

"Whaí? Leave us be . . . itís too early!" Micky groaned.

"Itís nearly noon!" Peter cried.

"And our ride home is here so unless you two wanna live here, youíd better get up," Mike drawled.

"Home?" we cried simultaneously. We were ready to go in minutes. Within half an hour we were sailing towards the mainland on the SS Venture. We docked three hours later, and a taxi took us to the airport where weíd left the Monkeemobile.

"Home sweet home!" Mike cried as he walked in the front door of the Pad.

"It wonít be if you donít give me the rent, Nesmith!" Babbit cried from behind us.

"Oh hold your horses! Geez, we just spent the night on a deserted island after our plane crashed, weíve had nothing but clams and fruit since yesterday morning, and we all need showers. I think the rent can wait until weíve showered and unpacked!" I snapped.

"Plane crashed?" Babbit asked.

"Yes. Our plane crashed. So you can just go home and wait until weíve settled in to get your rent!" Babbitís eyes widened at my tone and he scurried off.

"Good job Len. Didnít know you had it in you!" Mike said as we dragged the rest of our luggage inside.

"Me neither. I guess I do have a little of my grandfatherís Napolitano temper."

"Oh, my goodness! Look at the time! Your gig starts in two hours!" Isa suddenly cried.

The next hour was chaos. Mike announced that we were wearing the black velvet 8-button shirts and pinstriped cobalt blue flares -- one of the few matching sets we hadnít brought to Hawaii and thus clean, and I grabbed mine and headed next door to shower in Isaís extra bathroom. By the time Isa and I were both ready, Mike and Micky were ready while Davy and Peter still showered. I pounced on the instruments and started polishing the bass. An hour before the gig was due to start, all the instruments were in the trunk of the Monkeemobile and we were off.

Because of our late arrival home, we went with the same set list as our first gig there. Mr. MacTavish walked up to us when we arrived.

"Ready to wow them again boys?"

"I hope!" Mike said, and yawned.

"Didnít get much sleep last night, Nesmith?"

"None of us did. Our plane crashed on the way back from Hawaii and we spent the night on a deserted island."

"My goodness. Do you want to cancel tonight? Give you time to recover. I donít mind!"

"Naw, weíre fine. Just a little tired. Oh and by the way -- we won." Mike scooted backstage to tune his 12-string.

"You won? Thatís wonderful!" MacTavish cried. "Oh, and youíre on in ten minutes. Any of you need something to drink?"

"Sprite with cherry juice for Lenora and me," Micky said.

"Iced tea please," Peter added.

"Nothin for me, thanks," Davy added. "Mike?" His question was answered with a grunt. "I donít think he wants anything."

"Very good. Iíll send a waitress over with your drinks in just a moment." MacTavish scurried off towards the bar. Within minutes, a shapely waitress walked over with three glasses.

"Well, Ďello luv. What are you doing after work tonight?"

"DAVY!" Micky and I cried in unison.

The gig started on time. Even though we were doing all tried and true tunes, we still got a resounding response from the audience and two encores. We played "(Iím Not Your) Steppiní Stone" for the first and "Iím A Believer" for the second. After the second encore, MacTavish handed us twice the pay we were supposed to get.

"Since you won the contest, Iím keeping my promise and doubling your pay! Congratulations!"

We all thanked him and decided to have a fancy dinner to celebrate our win and our pay raise. At Mickyís insistence, we went to the Marquis, the restaurant his father had owned and was now owned and run by his mother. The matreíd recognized Micky right away and sat us at one of the best tables in the restaurant.

"May I order for all of us?" Micky asked. "I know whatís best on the menu. Comes from taste-testing the entire menu . . . at every stage of preparation!"

As Micky said that, memories of hanging around in the kitchen on his days off of work on the set of Circus Boy and sneaking bites and spoonfuls of everything came to his mind . . . and mine too. I giggled as he recalled one particular instance when he got accidentally locked in the meat locker and managed to "taste-test" most of the meats stored in there before he was let out.

"Whatís so funny?" Isa asked. I looked up, noticing that she was draped all over Mike for the first time, and smiled.

"Oh Mickyís just remembering some fun experiences here and Iím seeing it all through the link."

"Aw, man. You saw that? Donít you dare share it!" Micky glared at me.

Why would I . . . Corky! I grinned as he blushed five shades of red.

Donít say that in front of the guys - they donít know I was in Circus Boy, Len. I never told them! I used the fact that the studio made me use a stage name to hide that from them. I put that behind me, Len. Donít bring it up again.

I gaped. There were definitely some differences between dimensions. Micky afraid to admit he had been the star of Circus Boy!

I wonít. Itís our little secret. Any others you wanna spill while weíre at it?

Not now. Theyíll come out sooner or later, now that we canít help but read each others minds!

"What are you two stariní into space for? You better snap to it quick cause the waiterís on his way over!" Mike said.

"Just setting some limits. Weíll talk later, back at the Pad," I replied as the waiter arrived.

"Ah, senor. Weíll have six servings of the capelini con gamberetti. To drink, virgin Shirley Temples for the lady and myself, two iced teas, and two Colas."

"Yes sir. I will be back with your drinks in a moment." The waiter hurried off.

"Capelini con gamberetti? Whatís that?" Mike gasped.

"Angel hair pasta with shrimp," I said.

"You speak Italian?" Peter gasped.

"Poco. I only took two years of it and that was ages ago."

"Wonders never cease!" Isa giggled.

The waiter brought our drinks then, and we were quiet for a few minutes, just sipping our drinks. Mike finally broke the silence.

"You sure you werenít usiní that new link oí yers to know what that . . . gobbledygook meant?"

"Nope. Not for that. I knew that on my own!" I said.

"Yeah right!"

Any further rebuke was cut off by the arrival of our food and the discussion ended for the time being.

Horizontal rule

Next Previous

Horizontal rule

Hosted by Tripod

Created by Lenora McCoy

Last updated 13 OCT 98

[Home] [Guest Book] [Back to Lenora's Fiction Archive] [Take my Survey] [What's New]
[Music]
[Science Fiction] [Story Archive] [Scotland]
[The 60s] [Figure Skating] [Concert & Convention Diary] [Beadwork]
[Links] [Reviews] [Webring] [Search Engines]