It didn't help matters that none of them could afford to go home for the holidays either. Not only this, but something else was bothering them also. Food was disappearing left and right, and nobody could figure out who or what was taking it.
Peter had mentioned also that he had heard noises outside like something was rustling in the garbage. One day, Mike, Micky, and Peter had a discussion about it.
"Hey Micky, did you eat all of that butter rum cake that Mrs. Weefers brought over?" Mike asked, looking in the nearly bare refrigerator.
"No, I hadn't even had any yet, I swear," Micky answered.
"Peter, did you have to eat all of the cake?" Mike asked.]
"I didn't have any. Besides, I went to the library right after she came over," Peter said, providing an alibi.
"Well, if you didn't eat it, I didn't eat it, and Micky didn't eat it, that means we've got a thief," Mike concluded.
"Maybe it was a mouse," Peter suggested.
"Oh Peter, a mouse can't eat a whole cake," Mike said.
"Maybe a dog or cat then. I have been hearing noises outside for the past two nights," Peter said.
"Well, that would make sense, except for the fact that dogs and cats can't open refrigerator doors. There also would have been garbage scattered everywhere," Mike told him.
"So you're saying it's a person?" Micky asked.
"Yup, and I hope we can catch him or her pretty soon. We're not running a concession stand you know," Mike said.
That night when the Monkees went to bed, Peter had a hard time getting to sleep. He was scared now that he knew a stranger was lurking around the pad. It was much more comforting to think a cat or dog was out there. Suddenly, Peter heard the noises, the rattle of the trash can, the crumple of paper. Peter's heart leaped into his throat. He instictively pulled the covers up over his head.
Suddenly, Peter decided that he could be the one to catch this thief, if he could build up his courage that was. So he took a deep breath, threw off the covers, and reached for his robe and slippers. He quietly tiptoed over to the balcony and there he seen "it's" shadow. His heart pounded wildly again.
He grabbed an iron skillet out of the cabinet and a flashlight out of the utility drawer and made his way outdoors. Once outside, he flipped on the flashlight and screamed at the sight before him.
" 'ello mate. I didn' mean to stah'le ya," the young man said in a British accent. The poor boy was filthy from head to toe. he had on raggedy old clothes that looked like they hadn't been changed in weeks. His coat was thin and his gloves were very worn. The sight of him made Peter sad.
"Me name's David Jones," the boy said, sticking out his hand.
In the meantime, Mike and Micky had been sleeping upstairs when Peter's scream had waken them.
"What in the world was that?" Micky asked.
"I dunno, but it sounds like Peter may be in trouble," Mike said. "Stick close to me. I'll grab the bat, and you grab the vase."
"Gotcha," Micky said as he grabbed the flower vase off the night stand and followed Mike. Once they had gotten downstairs, Mike flipped on the lights. There he saw the stranger sitting at their kitchen table, munching on a jelly sandwich and drinking a glass of milk. Peter had come out of his room with a blanket and wrapped it around the young visitor's shoulders. As they neared, the stench of Davy was almost overwelming. Mike had to sit down so he wouldn't pass out, and Micky became sick to his stomach.
"Peter, what on Earth are you doing?" Mike asked in disbelief.
"Hey Mike, this is David Jones. He's new to California. Well, actually he's new to the United States. He's from England," Peter said with a grin.
"Pleased ta mee' ya," Davy said with a mouthful of sandwich and a hand stuck out.
"What were ya doin' on our balcony?" Mike asked.
"I'm sorry for causing ya any trouble sir. I 'ad now where to go. I come 'ere to California to become a singing stah. I though' if The Bea'les can do i', so can I. I was robbed of everything excep' the clothed on me back the day I arrived 'ere," Davy said timidly, almost as if he were afraid of Mike.
"Aw, that's ok. You just scared us," Mike said.
"Hey David, this is Mike Nesmith and that guy over there is Mikcy Dolenz," Peter said, pointing to his friends.
"Pleased ta mee'ya," Davy said, going over to Micky. the smell was more than Micky could handle. He quickly shook Davy's hand then said, "excuse me". Micky bolted into the bathroom, slammed the door, and all that could be heard was "blaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Is 'e ok?" Davy asked, pointing to the door.
"He's fine," Mike said, "look, David-"
"Oh please call me Davy," Davy said.
"Look Davy, I've got a grand idea. Why don't we let you take a shower. You can borrow some of Micky's clothes and then you can spend the night. We've got a cot that you can set up in Peter's room," Mike suggested.
"Ok," Davy said.
"Hey, why is he wearing my clothes?" Micky asked.
"Well because me and Peter's clothes would be way too big for him," Mike said, "now be nice." So reluctantly, Micky went upstairs and came back down with a pair of pajamas, socks, and even a pair of underwear. Davy thanked him and headed for the bathroom. As he showered, the other guys began to have a discussion.
"Poor fella. I kinda know how he feels. I hardly had any money at all when I first moved to California," Mike said.
"Yeah me either," Peter said.
"Can he stay here?" Micky asked.
"I suppose. At least until after Christmas," Mike said.
"Hey Mike, remember that movie we saw last night?" Peter asked.
"Yeah, what about it?" Mike asked back.
"Well, when Jacob Marley told Ebenezer Scrooge that mankind was their business, do you suppose that could be true?" Peter asked.
"Yeah, what are you driving at?" Mike questioned.
"Well maybe Davy could stay indefinitely. I mean, you know we're not working out too good as a trio. It's like something is missing. Listen to that singing Mike," Peter said, pointing toward the bathroom.
"Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far away," came floating from beyond the bathroom door.
"Hey, he sounds really good," Micky said, shaking his head in approval.
"Not only that, he's a dancer too. Plus, he plays tambourine, maracas, and a little guitar," Peter added.
"Well, maybe we can audition him after the holidays," Mike stated.
"Yes!" Micky and Peter proclaimed in their victory. Soon Davy came out of the bathroom, looking much different than he did before. Of course, Micky's clothes were way too big on him also.
"Whoowee! You cleaned up nice! If he sticks around here too long he's going to steal your girlfriends Mick," Mike said.
"You sing well too," Micky commented.
"Thanks. I didn' mean for ya to 'ear tha'," Davy said shyly.
"Maybe you could jam with us sometime," Peter said.
"Tha' would be grea'! I've 'eard ya guys playing while i was ou' there beside the window. You're good, but i' sounds like something's missing."
"Yes, we know," Mike said dryly.