It was late morning before the Monkees woke up and surprisingly, despite the wild night, they weren't too hung over. The thought that they had missed Sunday services hardly entered their minds.
After they had a late breakfast, Micky and Mike went off to separate areas of the pad and began to write songs. The morning turned into the afternoon as Micky and Mike came over to the others to show them the songs they had started. Quickly, they began to rehearse the songs. They were so caught up in their music, they jumped in fright to see Elizabeth standing next to Micky on the bandstand. The Monkees quickly stopped playing.
"Peace be with you." Elizabeth said.
"And also with you." They replied.
"I thought you weren't going to sneak up on us like that, honey." Micky said, giving her a kiss.
"I called out to you guys, but you were making so much noise, you didn't hear me." The angel replied.
"This isn't noise." Mike said in mock indignation, "This is going to be our first hit single."
Elizabeth and the Monkees climbed down off the bandstand. The angel took Micky's hand.
"I missed the four of you at church this morning."
The Monkees were embarrassed and couldn't look Elizabeth in the eye.
"Um?we partied a little...too much last night..." Davy ventured.
"Yeah, we had a groovy time, Elizabeth." Micky said quickly, "I wish you could've come."
The angel didn't need her heavenly powers to see the guilt on Micky's face. In fact, all of the Monkees had done things last night that they should not have done. She sighed.
"Well, I think what the four of you should do is pray and ask the Father for his forgiveness and to help you resist temptation the next time."
"No time for that, Elizabeth." Mike said, "We gotta keep rehearsing our new songs."
"Yeah, we're gonna present Jynger with some new songs that we can record."
Micky took Elizabeth's arm and led her over to the couch.
"Sit here and listen, sweetheart." He said, "I think you're going to like them."
He climbed back up onto the bandstand and took his place behind the drums. The others quickly got into place too.
"The songs are almost complete." Mike said, "But you'll get a good idea of what they're all about." He nodded to Micky and the drummer counted off. After a few bars Mike began to sing:
Salesman, where you gonna go to sell all your of your goods today? Salesman, gonna walk along the street, see friends along the way. Well salesman, with your wooden cart that you push along while you walk. Hey, salesman, got a little dog whose tail wags when you talk. You always wear a smile, even though you've gotta walk ten miles. Short lifespan, goodtime salesman. Yep, yep salesman got it on the street, whether it's hot or cold. It's salesman, well, you work real hard, Until every pot is sold. Salesman, as the years go by, People changing every day. Hey, salesman 'til the end of time you'll be livin' in the same way. You always wear a smile, you love 'em fast and you live wild. Short life span...but ain't life grand?
The group came to a halt after Mike sang the last line. They looked at the angel.
"Like I said, Elizabeth..." Mike said, his voice drifting off when he saw the disturbed look on her face. "What's wrong?" He asked.
"The music itself is wonderful, but the lyrics...do you know what you're singing about?" Elizabeth asked.
Mike looked at the other Monkees, then at the angel.
"I'm singing about a traveling salesman going door to door." Mike replied, puzzled.
Elizabeth shook her head. "That's not what I'm hearing, Mike." She said. "Your `salesman' is...well, selling drugs."
"What?" Mike exclaimed.
"I can hear the subliminal message in the song, Mike." The angel replied. "You don't hear it, but I do."
"Oh no, not that sublimini...sublimina...hidden message stuff again." Peter said with disgust.
Elizabeth said, "I heard the message to do drugs. Think of what could happen if you sang that song to thousands of young kids."
"There's nothing wrong with my song." Mike said, hurt.
"Let me do my song next." Micky told his band mates. He looked at Elizabeth. "She'll like that one."
Peter took off his guitar, walked over to the small organ on the side and sat down. He began to play a few eerie chords. Micky began to sing:
Darkened, rolling figures move thru' prisms of no color. Hand in hand, they walk the night, but never know each other. Passioned pastel neon lights light up the jeweled trav'ler. Who, lost in scenes of smoke filled dreams, Find questions, but no answers. Startled eyes that sometimes see phantasmagoric splendor. Pirouette down palsied paths with pennies for the vendor. Salvation's yours for just the time it takes to pay the dancer. And once again such anxious men find questions, but no answers.
When the group was done, Micky gave Elizabeth a big smile.
"Now how about that one, darlin'?"
Elizabeth leaned forward and looked at the floor.
"Elizabeth?" Micky asked. "Tell me what you think."
"What I hear is that it's all about what you see when you take drugs." She said quietly, not looking up. "You may not realize it, but your song is trying to convince people how fun it is to take drugs. But when people look for answers in drugs but find they only more questions."
"No, it's about a dream I had last night!" Micky said, getting angry along with the other Monkees, "How I was walking in a smoky haze looking for something."
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at him.
Micky looked at her for several seconds before answering. "No...just lots of lights." He said.
Mike glared at the angel. What was the matter with Elizabeth? Why was she finding fault with their songs? He looked at his band mates. They too were getting upset with the angel.
"Perhaps our angel from God will like this song." Mike said in a slow, drawling mocking voice. "I wrote it about a girl named Julia I met a the party last night. She thinks the world of me."
Peter grabbed his guitar again and Mike counted off and began to sing:
She owns and operates her own sunshine factory. Of painting smiles on dolls and then on me. She's my sunny girlfriend...and personality. Micky joined in with Mike: Well, she's got a book that tells about ev'rybody's past. And she can make you slow while making your mind move fast. She's my sunny girlfriend And she is never last.
Elizabeth stood up and waved her hand. Instantly, the Monkees' instruments went silent.
Mike looked up from his guitar and then to the angel.
"What's wrong now?" Mike asked angrily. "Didn't the song meet your high standards?"
The angel looked in anguish at her four friends.
"You're singing about a witch who makes drugs!" Elizabeth cried, "Don't you understand? `Painting smiles on dolls'. Dolls is a slang term for pills! `She's got a book that tells about everybody's past.' She has a spell book which she uses on people!" Elizabeth threw her hands up.
A newspaper appeared in one hand. The headline told of another teen suicide-the same boy Elizabeth had waited on just last week-who had bought a Warmonger album.
"Look at this!" She said, pointing at the headline. "I waited him last week! He bought a Warmonger album! He was a normal fifteen year old boy and yesterday he killed himself!"
"What does that have to do with us?" Peter asked.
"Wait. You think that subliminal stuff made him want to kill himself?" Micky asked.
"Yes." She replied. "It's more than just album covers. Something else is being used to make these kids commit suicide," Then she went thoughtful, "But now hearing all this makes me wonder..."
Mike pulled off his guitar, stepped off the bandstand and stood in front of Elizabeth. He was several inches taller than the angel and glared down at her. But over the centuries, Elizabeth had dealt with people like Mike who sometimes used their height to intimidate others, so she looked up at Mike totally unafraid.
"This is ridiculous. You just don't want us to be famous." Mike growled, "You want us to stay the way we are, so you can force-feed us your Christian values."
"I'm not forcing anything on you, Mike." Elizabeth replied. "I'm trying to make you see that you've become blinded by the promise of fame and fortune, letting yourself be used by Satan`s minions."
"Be used by Satan?" Mike shot back, "Me? Do you know who you're talking to?"
Elizabeth gave him a big smile. "Yes, I'm talking to Mike Nesmith."
But Mike wasn't in the mood for levity. It was time to put this angel in her place.
"I am Michael Nesmith, a DIRECT descendant of Saint Thomas, one of Jesus' twelve apostles!" He shouted, pointing his finger at her. "Before you became an angel, you were nothing but a madam in a whorehouse!"
Elizabeth's face grew dark and the temperature in the pad dropped about twenty degrees. Suddenly, the angel grew in height, and now SHE was several inches taller than Mike! He took a step back. Despite the anger in her face, Elizabeth's voice was calm and clear.
"The fool's mouth is his ruin; his lips are a snare to his life." She said calmly, quoting proverbs, "So you're a descendant of St. Thomas?" She asked, "Good for you! Does that make you any better than I, that you can pass judgment on my past life?"
Mike was silent. His band mates stood frozen where they stood, watching the scene unfold. The angel continued.
"Judge not, that you may not be judged." She said, her voice quiet, but like steel. "I am trying to help you. Do not make your heart obstinate." She gave him a little smile. "So you think perhaps The Lord needs help in doing his works, oh descendant of St. Thomas, in deciding what to do with wayward angels?"
"I didn't mean..." Mike began, but Elizabeth cut him off.
"Perhaps I should pay a fine or fill out paperwork for you, My Lord?" Elizabeth teased, then became serious again. "Being a descendant of St. Thomas has given you the grace to fight evil a little better than others, but only if you choose to use that grace." She said, "But it doesn't seem like you're using it now. It doesn't make you better than anyone, Mike, or should I call you Angel Master?" The angel waved her hand.
Suddenly, Mike was wearing a brilliant white robe with gold trim around the edges. In his hand he held a silver sword with crosses etched on the blade. Behind him, Micky stifled a giggle, but Mike was unrepentant. He threw the sword down and pulled off his robe and tried to throw it at Elizabeth, but both sword and robe vanished. Mike looked down to find himself only wearing his underwear. With an angry glare at Elizabeth, he stormed away up to his bedroom, the door slamming so hard it knocked a few pictures off the walls. The angel shrank down to her usual height and looked sadly at the other three Monkees.
"I'm very sorry my friends, but I'm trying to show you..."
"Show us your powers?" Davy snapped, "That you can do what you want to us?"
"No, I was just trying to show Mike the folly of pride." The angel replied, "Now let me..."
"I think you better leave, Elizabeth." Micky said, turning away from her.
"But..."
"Goodbye, Elizabeth." Peter said, pointing at the front door.
Elizabeth looked in shock at Micky, Peter and Davy. They were not going to listen to anything she said. "Goodbye, my friends." The angel whispered, a tear coming down her cheek. She slowly vanished from their sight.