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Oh God, I'm more drunk than I wanna be right now Mike thought as the latest shot he'd partaken in slowly invaded his brain. He looked around and was all too aware of how quickly the room seemed to be moving. A melody seemed to be swimming around his head but he couldn’t quite catch it. He tried to hum it for a moment but quickly gave up on that endeavor. He sat on the soft plush couch unable to imagine moving. His limbs seemed to be an entirely separate entity from his body. It wasn't his fault really. This party was a total groove, within walking distance from the pad, and nobody was charging for the drinks. He couldn't possibly waste such a golden opportunity, so he had a few more drinks than he had planned, which quickly led to more shots than he had planned, which led to smoking a bit of grass that he hadn’t planned for and now he wasn't sure if he would ever move from this couch again.
He began to wonder about the last time he had drank this much. It had been an awful long time since he had gotten properly drunk. Of course, he’d had a beer or two when offered during gigs but other than that he hadn’t had any hard liquor since moving into the pad. He felt much happier knowing he could go out with his bandmates and he could be a reliable designated driver. He reveled in the fact that his friends trusted him so much and if he was being truly honest with himself, he didn’t really trust any of the other guys to be the designated driver. Micky was far too likely to get caught up in the party and simply forget that he wasn’t supposed to drink. Mike trusted Peter a bit more, he usually didn’t drink much anyway. Unfortunately, Peter could rarely resist the allure of good grass at any party. Once Peter caught a whiff of the stuff, Mike had seen how easily he could be swayed into partaking so he was definitely off the table. Davy was the last possibility. He was actually a pretty good driver, if a little aggressive at times, but he didn’t have an American license.
He blinked and attempted to refocus on his surroundings. A girl he had been chatting (and drinking) with earlier had sat down next to him on the couch and might have been saying something about clothing or fashion or something and Mike would have been listening if he could. The problem he was facing was that Micky had moved right into his field of view and he couldn’t bear to look away. There was something in the way he moved that seemed almost hypnotic, like when his arms flailed in exaggeration of whatever story he was telling or when his face scrunched up as he tried to remember all the details as he regaled the small crowd surrounding him. Mike was absolutely transfixed. He also couldn’t help but notice that Micky appeared to be holding two drinks. In one hand he held a bottle of beer and in the other, he was holding a dark pink beverage with an orange slice stuck to the rim of the glass. Is that some chicks drink? Ugh, if he’s planning on bringing a girl back to the pad that means I’m stuck on the couch. Maybe I could just stay here? Yeah, this couch is so comfy, I could just rest my eyes for a moment and…
His eyes snapped open as a pair of hands suddenly appeared on his shoulders. He blinked several times before realizing that the hands belonged to Davy who was now standing behind the couch. Looking up to see his friend, a sloppy smile began to stretch across Mike’s face.
“Hey, Mike. Oh. Oh no. Umm, You having a fun time? Had a couple of drinks? Did you smoke too? How much have you had?” Davy’s thinly veiled concern flew right over the highly impaired Texan. His grin only grew as he shook his head ‘Yes’. He didn’t realize Davy had asked a question that required more than a yes or no.
“Ok then, …” Davy said as he began looking around for his fellow bandmates. He had come over to tell Mike that he was probably gonna walk home soon but he quickly realized that Mike was a much bigger concern. Davy had never seen him in this state before and frankly, it made him pretty uncomfortable. His eyes locked on to Micky and he tried to wave him over. As he lifted his hand from Mike’s shoulder Mike frowned.
“...Don’ go…Yuh jus’ got ‘ere…thisss couch iss soo soft mannnn, staaayyy…” He whined.
“Oh, no. I’m not leaving. Trust me, there is no way I’m leaving you right now” replied Davy, pretty sure Mike wasn’t understanding a word he was saying. He continued to try to get Micky's attention. After a few moments, Micky’s eyes flitted up and he smiled and waved back to Davy. He said a few more parting words and broke away from the group he had been chatting with. As he approached Davy noticed the two drinks in his hands and quirked his eyebrow up at Micky.
“Met a friend?” he asked, nodding towards the drinks.
“Two actually! Their names are Vodka and Cranberry.” Micky replied. He gulped the contents of the dark pink glass, plucked the orange slice from the rim, and set the empty glass down on a nearby table. He stuck the orange slice in his mouth and gave Davy a big orangy grin.
“Ha ha, real funny. I would be rolling on the floor right now if I didn’t have other concerns.” Davy gestured to Mike.
“Woah man! No way! Mike is drunk? Like really drunk? I didn’t know he could do that!”
“Yeah, well now we know. He definitely can get drunk. He’s pretty fucked right now. We gotta get him home. How bad are you?”
“Not too bad. I’m definitely tipsy but nothing crazy. You seem pretty fine.”
“Yeah, I had like 3 beers. I’ll be fine. You have any idea where Peter is?”
Davy couldn’t help but notice that Mike was now gently stroking the back of his hand and humming happily. Ok, let’s just ignore that I guess? Focus. Gotta. Find. Peter. If I were Peter, where would I be…
“Ooo I know! I bet he’s hanging out in the backyard! I saw some people smoking back there earlier.” Micky said. “I’ll go look. In the meantime, you gotta get him up. I’ll meet you at the front door with Peter.” Micky quickly turned and dashed away, still nursing his half-drunk beer.
…shit. Fucking shit. God dammit, how the hell am I supposed to get him up?
“Hey buddy…uh, I was just chatting with Micky, yeah that's right, you like Micky, I know. Anyway, we think it's probably about time to get goin’. Mmm, yeah I thought you might not like that. Ok, now don’ get too upset…We can just do fun stuff at the pad! Yeah, that's right! We can go and have fun with just the four of us! What do you wanna do?”
“...guitar?”
“Ok, Yeah, Totally! Plenty of guitars back home, why don’t we head back there and you can play them!”
Mike nodded happily then slowly began to rise. He splayed his arms out in front of him in a half-baked attempt at balancing himself. He was just about to flop backwards back onto the couch when he felt Davy grab both of his hands and pull him the rest of the way up with a grunt. Once he was on his feet Mike stood still for a moment with his hands still in Davy’s. He swayed back and forth as he attempted to take a step and very nearly toppled over. Davy released his hands and quickly grabbed him before he fell. Davy sighed and wrapped Mike’s arm over his shoulder, placing his other hand around Mike’s waist. Mike leaned on Davy as he continued to attempt to walk. Slowly but surely Davy was able to guide Mike through the party towards the front door.
Once the pair had arrived at the front door, Davy loosened his grip on Mike. He leaned him up against a wall and took a small step back. Mike only smiled at him and raised a small glass of brown liquid in Davy’s direction.
“Where did you get that? Is that even yours? Did you grab that while we were walking?!? Get rid of it!”
Mike looked at Davy, then looked at the drink in his hand. He wasn't totally sure where it had come from either. He shrugged and downed the beverage in one gulp. He proudly showed Davy the empty glass, having completed his task of getting rid of the drink. Davy looked at Mike with a mix of confusion and disbelief. He snatched the glass out of Mike's hand and set it down on the nearest available surface. As he looked back towards Mike he spotted Micky and Peter making their way towards him. Thank God! Ok, there is no way I’m dragging Mike all the way home. He's so skinny, but he feels much heavier as complete dead weight! Jesus, Peter looks high as a kite right now, I can see his red eyes from here. Well, at least he’s walking on his own…
“Ok, are we all here? Yeah? Great. Let’s go!” Micky said reaching for the door handle.
“Woah! Not quite! Mike ‘ere isn’t exactly a ballerina right now. He’s gonna need a hand…or two.”
Peter began to giggle at the idea of Mike as a ballerina. He didn’t catch much after that, but when he saw Micky wrapping his hand around Mike’s waist he quickly jumped in to help. Peter liked being helpful.
As the group stepped through the front door the cool night air surrounded them. Of course, given that they lived in Malibu ‘cool night air’ meant about 65 degrees. If Mike were more coherent he may have scolded them for their lack of long sleeves.
Four blocks. That's all it is. Four blocks to the pad. No big deal!
Micky tried his best to reassure himself, but as soon as he attempted to move Mike forward he realized that Peter was pulling in the wrong direction. He tried to tell him to pay attention, but Peter clearly wasn’t listening, seemingly distracted by the moon and literally every other thing around him.
Great, now I gotta steer both of them. Alright, this just became a group project.
“Davy, I need a hand. Could you steer Peter?”
Davy frowned and grumbled a bit, but grabbed and slung Peter’s arm over his shoulder anyway. Peter grinned widely and began giggling once again.
First Micky walked a bit fast, pulling Mike ahead and causing the group to turn. Next Davy tried taking bigger steps to catch up, but Peter tripped over his feet for a moment when he was pulled. As Peter’s weight suddenly shifted, Mike began to lean quite heavily towards him, causing Micky to stumble. They were only able to move a few steps before a chain reaction of tripping would begin again.
“Ok, Jesus Christ, we need a better plan!” Micky cried in frustration after a particularly egregious tripping chain reaction. “I declare myself in charge! Everyone follow my lead! Left foot up!”
The other Monkees followed the instruction and lifted their feet in unison. Micky continued to bark directions as the men fell into a sort of rhythmic step. Mike in his current state was having a bit of trouble remembering to lift his feet high enough to take a proper step. His boots scuffed across the street and he stumbled for a few steps. Micky began to dramatically kick his legs side-to-side as he stepped, which he hoped would remind Mike to pay attention to his feet. Instead, Mike simply copied what he saw and also began sweeping his legs side-to-side as he walked. It felt awfully silly, but then again so did everything. It wasn’t long before Peter began copying the motion as well, leaving only Davy walking normally. Peter was now giggling nearly hysterically seeing the usually stoic Mike smiling and walking so strangely. Mike joined in the giggling, only interrupted every few seconds by a sudden bout of hiccups. Micky and Davy found that the giggling fit was simply too infectious to resist.
“Well, ok then! This is the longest we’ve gone without tripping! Join in Davy!” laughed Micky
Davy shrugged for a moment and then joined in the unusual kick-line.
The four Monkees continued in their march toward the pad. It wasn't long before they approached the familiar front door. Micky told the rest of the group to wait a moment while he dug around in his pockets for a key. Davy took over the responsibility of keeping Mike upright and ensuring Peter didn’t wander away.
Mike was gasping air, trying to catch his breath by the time his giggles subsided. He was pretty sure he had never laughed so hard in his entire life. The lights of the street spun around him like a Van Goph painting. He wasn’t sure if they had walked for minutes or hours, and he wasn’t sure if he cared. He wasn’t even sure if they had stopped moving yet, his body still felt like it was in motion. His stomach was doing cartwheels. When did that start? Am I spinning? His mouth started salivating and he blinked hard as he tried to understand what was happening.
Micky unlocked and opened the entrance to the pad. He then turned back to help Davy maneuver Mike through the door. As he turned he saw Mike’s look of intense focus. Oh god, I know that look.
Micky dashed forward and grabbed Mike out of Davy’s arms, turning his face towards the bushes next to their front door without a moment to spare as Mike doubled over and up-chucked. Davy jumped back in horror as he realized how close he had come to wearing Mike’s spaghetti dinner.
Peter simply stared at the scene unfolding in front of him in silent awe. Before he knew what was happening Davy had grabbed his arm and was leading him through the open front door and into their bedroom. Peter found himself feeling grateful that he had a bed on the first floor. He couldn't imagine trying to climb a spiral staircase while being high. It was not the first time he had thought this, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. Davy sat him down on his bed and told him not to move before rushing out of the room and back towards the front door. Peter happily flopped back across his bed, reveling in the feeling of the soft comforter against his body. He stretched his arms up above his head and loved the feeling. He smiled at the jumbled memories of the night floating through his mind. He couldn’t believe how much fun he had just walking home. He loved the strange kick-walk that Micky had created. God, what a total groove! That was so much amazing, we were all so in sync. It was so perfect! I’ve never seen Mike like that, he’s so fun when he’s drunk! We gotta add that walk to our set!
After a few unpleasant minutes spent bent over the bushes outside the front door, Mike stopped his gagging. With the help of Davy and Micky, he stood and was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. He leaned his head into the crook of Micky’s neck so that his eyes were shielded from the streetlights.
“...I wanna…sleep…now please.”
“Ok, let's just get him over to the couch. I’ll grab some blankets and stuff from upstairs, but there is no way we are getting him up the stairs like this”
Mike groaned at the mention of the twisting staircase and buried his head deeper into Micky’s neck, breathing in the warm air there.
Micky and Davy worked together to get Mike to the couch. Almost as soon as they set him down he had began softly snoring. Micky ran up the stairs and grabbed armfuls of pillows and blankets. As he tried to make a sufficient bed for Mike out of the worn-out couch, Davy headed into the kitchen. He grabbed a cup out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water. He walked back towards the couch and grabbed a small trash can on the way. He gently set down the water on a coaster on the coffee table next to the couch and placed the trash can in front of the couch within arms reach of Mike. Just in case he needs it…
Once Micky was satisfied that Mike would be comfortable on the couch for the night he sighed and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Davy followed suit and headed for his bedroom. He found Peter fast asleep laying on his back sideways across his bed. Davy groaned, but went to work turning Peter and tucking him tightly under the covers. Once he had finished he flopped onto his own bed and was sleeping in no time.