The Perfect Gift

"OK guys, don?t wander too far. We've got some last minute items and we need to get out there by, say 11:00?" Mike asked clearing the table of breakfast dishes.

"Yeah, sure. We'll be ready Mike." And so all, but Mike left the Pad to kill some time before they joined the last-minute shoppers.

Micky stood watching the children play on the swings. "Ha! Not a care in the world!" he thought. Then he felt a tug on his jacket. Micky looked down into the face of a curly haired little girl with bright steel-blue eyes.

"Hi! Are you lost?" Micky asked.

"Nope!" she smiled.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Micky asked puzzled.

"Nope!" she smiled again.

Micky sighed and rolled his eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"Made you look!" the little girl said, laughing. This made Micky smile "What's your name? I'm Micky."

"My name's Angie," She said.

"So you're a little prankster?" Micky asked.

"Like you!" the girl laughed.

Micky though the little girl's words strange, but shook them off. As they both sat in the sand, Micky looked at those bright steel-blue eyes and began to talk about Christmas and his trouble finding the perfect gift got his band mates.

"Hey, I don't know why I'm telling you this. You don't understand!" Micky sighed.

"Yes I do!" Angie said brightly. "You've already for the 'prefect gift.' You make your friends laugh. My grampa told me if you can make people laugh, it's a gift. The perfect gift is your gift of laughter!"

"Who made you so smart?" Micky asked tussling her hair.

The little girl didn't answer, she just laughed and Micky soon joined her. After a little while, Angie stood up.

"Well, I gotta go, Micky. Merry Christmas!" With that she ran toward the park. Micky looked out upon the ocean and turned to look after the little girl, but she had vanished.

"Talk about out of the mouth of babes!" Micky thought as he turned again toward the ocean.




Since there was a little time to kill, Mike decided he would go to his not so secret place on the beach. When he got there, he found someone sitting and drinking from a canteen. As he got closer, he discovered it was a young girl. She had a knap sack indicating that she was traveling. Mike walked over to her.

"Mind if I join ya" I'm Mike."

"Free beach, man. I'm Angel." Mike smiled, Christmas Eve and he meets a girl named Angel.

"I get that a lot. Especially at this time of year," Angel said as if reading his mind.

Mike looked at her and saw a young girl with straight raven hair. It was so dark it almost cast blue highlights and she had the brightest steel-blue eyes he had ever seen.

"Passin' through?" Mike asked

"Something like that," Angel answered. As Mike sat, he suddenly found himself talking about not being able to find the 'perfect gift' for his band mates.

"Uh, sorry, if I bored ya. I just felt I had ta, ya know, git it off my chest," Mike finished. Angel took another swallow from her canteen. Then, she looked at Mike.

"Man you are giving those friends of yours the 'perfect gift.' It's you! You guide them! You keep them in line. It may be hard sometimes, the decisions you make, man, but it's for the best. And you know what's even better? I bet they listen!" She then stood up, adjusting her bags, preparing to leave.

"What about you?" Mike asked standing also.

"Well, see man, I didn't listen. Anyway, Merry Christmas!" Angel then started to walk toward the street. Mike closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, thinking of what Angel said. When he opened his eyes and looked in the direction Angel went, she had vanished. Mike again thought of her words as he walked back to the Pad.




Davy wandered along the food court by the beach. His thoughts preoccupied, he bumped into a middle-aged woman enjoying a soda.

"Oh, sorry ma'am! I wasn't lookin?!" he apologized.

"No problem, really!" the lady laughed. "Can I buy you a soda?"

"Tha's awfully nice, but I should buy you another one, since I spilled most of yours," Davy said.

"Nonsense! I get so much joy from little things. Oh, I'm Mrs. Angelos. You could repay me by sitting with me for a while."

"David Jones, my friends call me Davy." Davy looked at Mrs. Angelos and saw a well-kept, proper middle-aged woman with black hair pulled in a bun and glasses that sat on her nose revealing bright steel-gray eyes.

"You're a school teacher, aren't you?" Davy asked.

"And you're English. I've always loved the accent as well as the literary classics," Mrs. Angelos smiled.

Davy began to talk and he expressed his concern about not finding the perfect gift for his band mates.

"Now, now David. Don't be so hard on yourself. You have a great gift to give your friends! Oh, they may tease you about falling in love, but they do know, you have true love for them. It?s a part of being happy. You see this simple soda? Ah, to me it is much more than that. I remember when my father would treat us to one every Sunday. That's memory. That's being happy that's love. It is the simple, but true love that you share with your band mates that is the 'perfect gift.'"

Not long after, Mrs. Angelos started gathering her purse and began to stand. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I really must be going now. Happy Christmas David!" Mrs. Angelos got up and walked back toward the food court. When Davy looked after her, she had vanished. Thinking more about what she had said Davy began to walk back to the Pad.




Peter sat at the bus stop watching the people and cars rush by doing last minute shopping. Suddenly he was joined on the bench by a little old lady loaded with bags.

"Waiting long?" she asked as she sat adjusting her bags.

"Oh I'm just people-watching. I'm not waiting for a bus. My name is Peter," he said smiling an adorable dimpled smile.

"Hello, Peter. I'm Angeline," she said as she finally adjusted her bags on the bench. Peter looked into her face and saw gray hair, pulled into a bun that sat at the top of her head. She wore granny glasses that revealed bright steel-blue eyes. The two began a conversation and Peter eventually told here of his efforts to find the 'perfect gift' for his band mates. He said he just could not think of one, because, after all he wasn?t the brightest of the group.

"Young man! You are not dim-witted!!" Angeline scolded him.

"But- everybody?," Peter started but Angeline cut him off. "Everybody doesn't know the sweet and gentle soul you possess. You are kind, loving, sincere and a very talented musician, I'll bet. I may not understand the new music, but I can tell talent."

"But--how do you---," Peter started again, but was cut off once more.

"My boy, you have such a kind face. You are very sensitive. I just wish more people in this world could have the goodness you possess. You are giving your band mates the 'perfect gift.' It is the gift of your kindness and loyalty. Peter, my boy, you are no dummy! Remember that." Angeline then began to collect her bags. "Merry Christmas, Peter," she said as she walked toward the street.

"Pete! Hey Peter!" Micky called from a distance. Peter stood and waved to Micky to join them. "That's Micky. I want you to meet-," but when Peter turned around, Angeline was nowhere to be seen. He looked but she was gone. He and Micky then walked back to the Pad.




The Monkees soon joined the last-minute shoppers and successfully completed their lists. Even with Micky complaining about buying Mr. Babbitt a gift!!

They returned home and went to separate parts of the Pad to complete their wrappings. In all the excitement, they noticed but did not comment on the large golden box addressed simply to "The Monkees." Each though a neighbor brought it over and each thought the other knew who brought it.

That night, the Monkees retired to their bedrooms to prepare for the big day.

"I can't wait to see what's in the golden box!" Micky said excitedly. "Do you know who sent it?"

"No, I thought you knew," Mike answered. Downstairs in Peter and Davy's room, the same conversation was taking place. After a moment of stunned silence, all four Monkees met in the living room. All eyes were fixed on the golden box. Together, they moved closer to the tree.

"'Ow'd it get here?" Davy nervously asked.

"I don't know. I thought one of you guys knew who brought it," Mike answered. The other two shook their heads.

"Well, it's almost midnight. I say we open the mystery box at midnight and the rest in the morning," Micky suggested.

"At least we'll sleep better knowing," Peter timidly said.

"If it's OK with everybody, then that's what we'll do," Mike decided. The other Monkees nodded in agreement and with ten minutes to go until midnight, they sat in the living room and stared at the box. At the stroke of twelve, all four Monkees jumped. Mike slowly stood and went to the tree to pick up the box. He brought it back and sat it on the coffee table. For a while they all just looked at it.

"Oh, this is silly! It's Christmas man! Ya know a time of good cheer. There's really nothin' ta be afraid of," Mike said, trying to sound confident.

"Oh good! Then open it!" Peter said excitedly.

"Yeah, open it! We wanna see!" the others joined in.

Mike lifted the top off the box and a beam of light shot upward causing the Monkees to fall backward. As they looked at the bright light, they began to see what appeared to be figures inside of it. First, there was a curly haired little girl, then a raven haired hippie, a school teacher, and finally the old lady, all with bright steel-blue eyes. Each of the guys gasped as they recognized the figures. Suddenly, there stood one figure. Angel. She was dressed in a very white robe with a bright blue sash draped around her shoulders and tied at the waist with a golden cord. Behind her back appeared white feathered wings. She lifted her head upward toward the light and in a blinding flash, she and the beam of light disappeared. Peter moved toward the box and read the note that was left at the bottom. ?May you each enjoy the perfect gift of each other. Merry Christmas!"

Each Monkee looked at each other and remembered the words of the ladies they had met the previous day and gathered together in a group hug. A strong feeling of warmth, brotherhood,. and love filled the room. They had realized the "perfect gift" gift they had wanted to share was their love and loyalty to each other. They may not have been rich, they certainly had their share of trying times, but they had their health, each other and the greatest, most perfect gift of all "Love!"

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