Instead of the smell of cooking ham and turkey, they had greasy, fast-food hamburgers. Instead of music and parties, two of them sat engrossed in a card game while the third paced the room.
"Mike, would you please sit down. I'm sure he's fine." Davy assured the taller man.
"Yeah, he didn't seem too bad off when we brought him in." Peter said.
"Yeah, well this isn't exactly how I had planned to spend Christmas." Mike said, waving his hand around the hospital waiting room.
"I'm sure Micky could agree with you there." Davy said.
"Why on earth would he go skiing on Christmas Eve anyway? He was supposed to helping us get ready for tomorrow." Mike said.
"You know how impulsive Micky is." Peter said.
Before Mike could respond, the doctor came into the room. The Monkees were relieved when they saw a comforting smile on the old face.
"Well?" Mike asked.
"Aside from a broken leg, he's just fine." the doctor replied. "Of course, he is insisting the tree jumped out in front of him."
"If he's making lame excuses like that, then I know he's fine." Davy chuckled. "Can we go see him?"
"Go ahead!" the doctor smiled and stepped aside as the three boys rushed past him.
Mike, Davy and Peter slid to a halt and barreled into each other as they entered Micky's room. Such an entrance startled the old man in the bed across from Micky. However Micky looked as if he had been expecting it.
"How do you feel?" "Does it hurt?" and "Are you ok?" all came out at the same time. Mike held up his hand to quiet the other two, and was about to ask again when Micky interrupted.
"I'm fine, guys!" he replied without even a hint of a smile. "The doc drugged me up so that I don't even feel any pain."
"That's good!" Peter smiled.
"Yeah, we were kind of worried." Davy added.
Micky's head hung down.
"I'm sorry I ruined Christmas, guys." he said. "I just wanted to try out the ski's that Uncle Martin sent me...."
"And a tree jumped out in front of you!" Davy said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, it could have happened!" Micky frowned.
"Look, we're just glad you're all right and that it wasn't something more serious." Mike said.
"Yeah, you didn't ruin Christmas, Micky." Peter smiled. "Christmas will still come whether you're here or back at the Pad."
A deep, depressed sigh was the answer to their attempt to comfort their friend.
"Well, uh, you just get some sleep, and we'll see you in the morning, OK?" Mike said.
"Yeah, sure!" Micky half-heartedly replied.
"Good night, Mick!" Davy said.
After they left the room, Mike stopped the other two in the hall.
"Micky seems pretty depressed." he said.
"Yeah, I wish there was something we could do." Davy sighed.
"We need to do something to bring the spirit of Christmas back in his life." Peter said. "But what?"