The Monkees jumped as the door slammed behind their landlord. Waiting a few seconds to make sure Mr. Babbit didn't come back, the group breathed a sigh of relief.
"Even when he gets his money, he's mad." Micky said.
Mike turned to Peter. "Now that the rent is paid, how much is left in the common fund?"
Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out several coins. He quickly counted it up.
"Sixty-seven cents, Mike." Peter replied.
"How are we going to make sixty-seven cents last until our next gig?" Davy asked.
"Sixty-seven cents will buy a couple of hot dogs." Peter said hopefully.
Mike sighed, "At least we'll have a place to sleep while we starve to death. Our next gig isn't for several weeks yet."
"We'll have to look for jobs." Micky told the others.
His band mates agreed and they started to look through the want ads in the paper. No jobs looked promising, they all wanted experience. Finally, Davy spotted a job they could do.
"Here's one, mates." He said, "Wanted: Counter help at Burger Barn. Free uniforms, food allowance. No experience necessary. Apply in person."
"Work at a fast food joint?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, it's better than nothing." Davy replied.
"With a food allowance, we'll be able to eat." Micky said happily.
The others looked at each other. Micky did have a point.
"Ok, let's go apply." Mike said.
The guys drove down to Burger Barn. Just as the name implied, the restaurant was in the shape of a large barn with a hamburger on top. There were a lot of cars in the lot so Mike had to park some distance away. Walking into the restaurant, they were beset by a large number of people jostling in line. The Monkees tried to walk up to the counter, but were pushed back by the crowd who thought they were trying to cut in line.
"Wait yer turn!" An angry man told them.
"We just want to get an application." Micky replied.
"Sure, sure." A woman answered, "You teenagers are so impatient."
Not wanting to start a fight (admittedly, it wouldn't look good to their potential boss) the four musicians waited until it was their turn at the counter.
"Looks like they need a lot of help." Peter whispered to the others.
"Yeah, we're a cinch to get the jobs." Davy answered.
Finally, it was their turn up at the counter. A haggard, middle- aged man turned to them.
"May I help you?" He asked.
"Yeah, we'd like to apply for the counter help job you had in the paper." Mike told him.
The man looked so happy, for a moment Mike thought he was going to kiss him.
"Here's your applications!" He said, almost crying with joy as he gave each of them a piece of paper. "Fill them out and come back to the counter."
"Back up here?" Micky asked, glancing behind him and noticing the line had gotten even longer.
"Yeah, I'm the manager. I might be able to spare a few minutes before the lunch crowd gets here." The man replied. "Now go ahead, I'll see you in a little while."
The Monkees walked away and tried to find a place to fill out their applications. There were no empty booths in the place, so Davy suggested they fill them out in the Monkeemobile.
They went back to their car and filled out them out, trying not to jostle each other while doing so.
Finally, they were done, and they went back inside the restaurant.
The lines were not as long this time so they didn't have to wait as long to see the manager. He greeted them with a big smile and motioned for them to join him in the back.
Following the manager, the Monkees made their way into a back office. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, the manager sat down behind his desk.
"Glad you came back, boys." He said sincerely, "Lots of people see the crowds and don't want to work here."
"Is it always crowded like this, Mr….um…Mr.." Davy hedged.
"Quackenbush. George Quackenbush." He said, "And yes, it usually is pretty busy here. But the lines are so long because I don't have all my workers with me."
"Where did they go, Mr. Quackers, er..Quackenbush?" Peter asked.
"Most of my workers are teenagers and college kids." Quackenbush replied, "They usually go back to school around this time. Other years I hired workers to take their place before they leave, but this year I forgot, so now you see the mess I'm in."
"Well, here's our applications." Micky said, handing his over to the manager. The other Monkees did the same. Quackenbush quickly looked them over.
"You boys have had a lot of jobs." He remarked, "Working for a telephone answering service, a Laundromat, a hotel and even a sailing ship."
"That last one turned out to be a real pirate ship." Peter remarked.
Quackenbush chuckled, then turned serious once again. "Any of you ever been exposed to hepatitis or anything like that?"
The Monkees all shook their heads.
Quackenbush nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. I'll hire you boys, but the only problem is that I only need three new workers. There's just no room in the budget for a fourth right now." He shrugged, "I'm sorry boys."
The Monkees looked at each other, wondering which one of them would be left out. Mike finally spoke.
"Could you excuse us a moment, Mr. Quackenbush?" He asked, "We'll have to discuss this amongst ourselves."
"Sure, sure." Quackenbush said, getting up off his chair. "Take your time. I gotta go help out again. Come back out to the front where you've decided on which three."
"Thanks, Mr. Quackenbush." Micky said.
When Quackenbush was gone, Davy turned to the others.
"Well, what do we do fellas?" He asked.
"I was hoping all four of us would work together." Mike said, "But I guess one of us could stay home and take care of the pad."
"Which one?" Peter asked. "How can we decide fairly?"
"Let's shoot fingers for it." Micky said quickly.
"I got it!" Mike said, "Let's draw straws!"
The others agreed. Mike grabbed some paper and pens off of Quackenbush's desk and handed them out.
"The one with the shortest straw will stay home." He said, "Now let's begin."
Quickly, the four men drew straws on their pieces of paper. When they were done, they placed the papers next to each other on the desk. Looking them over, it became obvious Micky had drawn the shortest straw.
"I learned from last time." Davy said with a smile, referring to the time they had to draw straws to see which one of them would wear a dress for a mixed-group contest.
"Well, Mick, it seems you won't be working at Burger Barn." Mike said.
Micky shrugged, not too disappointed.