Chapter Text
Do you have Bad Luck? Are you cursed? Then come to the Cursed Ones support group!
Peter looked down at the piece of paper and looked up at the door. This was the place. Peter took a deep breath and knocked on the door once. The door opened with a crash and a smash sound. Peter stared at the black-haired man wearing a green woolen hat with some surprise.
“Are you cursed?” The teen asked in a heavy Texan drawl. He dusted off some black feathers from his blue shirt and eyed Peter up and down once more. Peter nodded while he stepped aside from the man and tripped over his untied shoelaces, bringing the teen down with him.
“Sorry!” Peter said. He looked around the flat. It had two levels, with a metal spiral staircase leading to the second floor. The whole house was decorated with many strange knickknacks and items. Peter could feel something feathery brush against his hand. However, another voice called out before he could look for the source.
“Oh, hi there! Welcome to the Cursed Ones support group. I’m Micky Dolenz! Hope Mike didn’t scare you.” The kid said he was on the second floor. He leaped over the railings and hung on it upside down on a monkey’s tail. He then smiled once more before landing on the ground face first.
“I meant to do that!” Micky groaned.
“You okay?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, just a couple of bruises. Nothing a little rest can’t fix. Mike! Where are you?” Micky smiled in a sing-song voice.
“Down here!”
Peter looked down to see a black chicken with a yellow throat sac. Peter couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight of the chicken. Micky picked up the woolen hat and placed it over the chicken. In a blink of an eye, Mike was back and looking a little bit frazzled.
“Ummm…h-hi? I’m Peter Tork. I hope I haven’t made a bad first impression on you,” Peter said. He felt his voice waver momentarily while Mike picked up Peter’s bags. “And my curse is bad luck! What’s yours?” Peter quickly added.
“I turn into a chicken if I’m not wearing a beanie,” Mike said. “I know, family curse.”
“And I’ve got a monkey tail!” Micky beamed.
“That’s not quite the curse part,” Mike threw in.
“Yeah, I know but- wait a moment. Where’s Davy? Davy!” Micky called out. Peter raised an eyebrow. Was there another one here?
There was no response. Mike groaned to himself and walked into the side room, grabbing a blanket off the couch. Peter followed him with some curiosity.
The side room was much like the main room. It was organized chaos that seemed to be falling apart at the foundations. Peter could see a shorter teen petrified, much like the legend of Medusa, complete with the teen’s face twisted in shock.
“Thought today would be the day huh?”Mike sighed. He covered the mirror with the blanket. Before Peter could even say a word, there was a loud cracking noise as stone crumbled off the teen. The shorter one shook himself off, picking flecks of stone from his hair.
“Always worth a shot.” The kid said in a distinct British accent.
“What? Just in case your curse magically disappears? What if we weren't here when you pulled that off? You'd have been stuck like that all day.”
“I know-oh! Hello there, my name's Davy.” Davy sprung to his feet, shaking Peter’s hand before leaving the room as if he hadn’t just emerged from stone.
“I'm Peter!” Peter chipperly said.
Mike shook his head. “He's still refusing to accept that he's cursed. Poor kid. Come, you came just in time for lunch.” Mike smiled, watching Peter’s eyes light up at the mention of lunch.
“You mean you’re taking me in?”
Mike nodded. “Welcome to the club. Hope you can bring in the bread.”
—
The group Peter found himself with turned out to be a lively bunch. Mike placed down the bowls of spaghetti and Micky dove straight in. Davy on the other hand drank from his glass, catching his reflection in the glass before looking away, shaking a few flecks of stone from his fingers as he did so.
“So any reflection turns you to stone?” Peter asked.
“Yeah,” Davy responded. “Disproportionate retribution if you ask me. How was I supposed to know a literal witch was asking me out?”
“Here we go again…” Mike muttered.
“Can’t even go to the beach anymore, that's just grand I say.”
“Why not?” Peter asked
“Water reflects. So I have to be careful.” Davy said.
Peter nodded. He couldn’t think of a life where he had to be careful to not be encased in stone. Then again, curses were just that. Debilitating.
“Are you… conscious while you’re in that state?”
“It’s complicated…”
As Davy trailed off, Peter noticed a drum set near the balcony.
“So who's the musician of the group?” Peter asked, he leaned back a little before tumbling to the ground with a crash.
“Oh that’s mine. Gotta pass the time while we wait for clients you know!” Micky laughed.
Peter went slack-jawed. “Oh! I play the bass too, wanna play after lunch?” Peter happily said. The other three men looked at Peter and smiled.