AN: Well hello and welcome to the dangerous thing that is our first joint fanfiction. Though technically Cat wrote this part. My part is soon to come! So you still have time to run screaming, don't worry. EHEM... Just go read... it's amazing... OH Right... disclaimer. What was I supposed to say for that part again? Um... How about the fact that we don't actually own the Monkees? (If we did, oh my goodness, Mike would never have put his fist through that wall, I swear...) Oh, and also none of this actually happened except for the occasional reference and whatnot. So go have fun and try not to die okay? Okay. Bye for now!

Micky is a human.

Now that this has been established, don't be fooled. The other Monkees are also humans. Last time we checked.

Of course, the thing about Micky is that he is apparently really stubborn and refuses to communicate with our muses.

Micky was bored and in a restaurant. Micky being Micky, he began to hit things around him rhythmically for no apparent reason.

This stopped when he realized that the "drum" he had used was, in fact, someone's shoulder.

This would come back to haunt him, especially a few seconds later when he was forced to leave the place without actually having had food. Micky, feeling insulted, threatened never to come back. The man with the shoulder was the manager and therefore really couldn't care less.

Micky muttered about how this never would have happened back in Sandusky, Ohio, conveniently forgetting that he had spent all of one summer there, and that was for a family reunion. (During which he had informed everyone that he lived there, mostly because he liked the name.)

"Well," he told himself, "you're going to be late for that audition anyway." Micky stopped, blinked, and realized he was absolutely right and not merely consoling himself.

George Michael Dolenz ran as fast as he could. It wasn't very fast at all, but that doesn't really matter because this is only a back-story (and not much of one at that) and nobody cares whether or not he made it to the audition on time.

He might have bumped into a short young man, or someone with a green wool hat, or a blond boy, but Micky didn't notice. He was late, after all, and living on his own as an actor, late was merely another in a long list of things he couldn't afford.

REVIEW. NOW. But you only need to criticize Cat because she wrote this one. ...WHAT was that? Loving, sisterly friendship. Okay, ignore us, just type in the little box below!