"I thought Davy had a date." Mike frowned.
"He canceled." Peter explained.
"And there's a James Cagney movie on tonight." Mike said sounding confused.
"Micky knows."
"So Casanova Jones, and Micky "Wanna see my James Cagney impression" Dolenz are putting aside their night for me. Tell them not to worry about it." Mike said.
Peter put his hand on Mike's shoulder. "Mike they're trying to do something nice for you. Don't spoil it for them."
Mike chuckled. "Guess the only thing to do is keep my mouth shut and enjoy it huh."
"Yep."
"Hey Mike. What can I get you?" Davy asked as Mike walked downstairs.
"Davy, it's okay. I'm feeling a little better and I thought I'd fix me some toast."
"But-"
"I forgive you guys. I know you were sick and didn't mean to act the way you did. Anyway you should be taking it easy. You just got over the flu." Mike patted Davy's shoulder.
Davy slumped in a chair resting his head in his hands.
Mike frowned. "You feel okay?"
"No. My head hurts, and I feel really rundown."
"Why don't you go back to bed." Mike suggested.
Davy headed for the downstairs bedroom when they heard a knock on the door.
"Rent...ya what happened to you two? You're both really pale!" Mr.Babbit asked.
"We just got over the flu." Mike explained.
"I'll go get the rent money." Davy said.
"No, it's okay! I'll come back next week!"
With that Mr.Babbit quickly left.
"Guess we're not the only ones scared of the flu." Mike laughed.
"Guess not." Davy laughed. Then winced.
Mike placed a hand over Davy's forehead. "You're warm. Go take a nap shotgun."
Davy nodded. He entered the downstairs bedroom.
Peter and Micky came back from the store.
"Hey Davy?! Get out here and help us!" Micky yelled.
"Leave him alone. He ain't feeling good." Mike said.
"What's wrong with him?" Peter asked.
"He has a fever and feels rundown. He seemed sluggish this morning." Mike explained.
They heard the phone ring.
"I'll get it." Mike said.
"Hello? Aw that's too bad. No I didn't have them. I don't know. I'll ask the others. Thanks for letting us know." Mike hung up the phone.
"What's wrong Mike?" Peter asked.
"Heather and Jesse have the chickenpox." Mike said.
"Oh boy. They were here right before we got the flu." Micky said.
"I know. I never had them as a kid. Have you guys?"
"No." Micky and Peter groaned.
"Let's not panick. Maybe we won't get them."
Davy came out of the bedroom stratching his ribcage.
"Man do I itch!" he groaned.
The other three Monkees looked at each other.
"Uh Davy. Take your shirt off." Peter said.
"Why?" Davy asked.
"Trust us." Mike said.
"I don't know what's wrong with me today. I feel so rundown. That flu must have really wiped me out." Davy said as he pulled his pajama shirt over his head.
The others winced. Davy had spots around his rib cage and stomach.
"Um Dave. Did you have chickenpox has a kid?" Mike asked.
"No."
"Well you have them now."
"You must be joking!" Davy cried.
"Sorry babe. He's not." Micky frowned.
"I don't feel so good." Peter groaned.
Micky sighed. "Here we go again."
"You two get back in bed." Mike said.
The two did.
"If Davy starts getting whiny again you're taking care of him." Mike said.
"I don't think you have to worry about him or me getting like that again." Micky grinned.
"I better not. Or else..." Mike also grinned.
Micky grinned again. "Gotcha!"