Tippy sighed and rolled over to look out the window, careful not to wake the sleeping Nancy on the other side of the bed.
She couldn’t sleep.
All her life she had trouble sleeping where she wasn’t at home.
“I could go get some water or something,” Tippy thought, quietly getting out of bed.
The thought of wandering around the famous Monkees’ Pad at night did have intriguing possibilities.
Stepping over her friends on the floor, Tippy made her way to the door and after adjusting the oversized T-shirt she borrowed from Mike, she stepped out the door and into the living room.
After getting herself a glass of water, she walked over to where the instruments were set up on the bandstand and looked on in awe.
Never in her life would she have believed that she would be here.
As she walked backwards to get a better view, she bumped into the couch, falling backwards on top of a figure that had been seated there, unbeknownst to her.
“Um, hi,” a voice came from beneath her, stopping a scream that probably would have woke up the entire house.
Tippy would know that voice anywhere.
“Uh, sorry, Peter,” she said, quickly getting up to retrieve the glass, which had fallen on the floor.
“Good thing it was empty,” Tippy nervously laughed, her face reddening.
Tippy stood there for a moment, holding the cup in one hand, self consciously running her other hand through her medium length, layered blonde hair.
She had not been a loss for words earlier that evening. What was wrong now?
Well, earlier she did not just fall on her dream guy’s lap, she hadn’t been in her pajamas, and all her friends were with her.
That was then, this is now.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was here,” Tippy said quickly.
“That’s okay,” Peter said, “I couldn’t sleep, Micky was telling ghost stories again.”
“Have a seat,” Peter continued, patting a place on the couch, beside him.
Even in the dark she could see that famous dimpled smile.
With just a tad of apprehension, Tippy made herself comfortable, all the while thinking, "I can’t believe I’m setting on the Monkees’ couch!!”
“So,” Peter said, breaking her out of her fan freakout, “tell me more about the writing you do. We only talked about it a little bit earlier. What do you write about?”
“Ugh, it’s almost one ‘o clock in the morning,” Linds sighed, plopping down on the couch. “Maybe we should get some rest and start fresh in the morning.”
“I second that motion,” Connie agreed, joining Linds on the couch.
“Or maybe we should just call the police, report them as missing persons and go home where it’s safe,” Tiff suggested, sitting on the blue air chair near the window.
“We can’t do that guys,” Metty said, finally sitting in the armchair. “I mean, like we said before, something really weird is going on here. I’m glad I at least saw that episode once, so I know a little about those aliens.”
“Yea,” Linds agreed, “you’re not as big a fan as us.”
“But,” Metty said, “thanks to Tippy making me watch the videos and reading the stories, it’s helped a lot.”
“I know,” Tiff said, “we gotta keep trying. I shouldn’t have said that. I guess I’m just tired. Cleaning up that mess and putting that robot in the hall closet until we figure out what to do with it took a lot out of me.”
“I think it took a lot out of all of us,” Connie agreed with a yawn.
“Maybe we should try and get some rest,” Metty said. “Then we’ll start again in the morning. Hopefully some sleep will clear our heads.”
“Good idea,” Linds said as the group headed to get ready for bed, “but I think we just might miss the concert.”
“But I knew,” Peter quietly sang, carefully strumming his acoustic guitar.
“I knew, I knew, I knew, I knew,” Tippy joined in quietly, trying not to laugh.
“She had made me happy,” Peter continued.
“Happy, happy, happy,” Tippy sang with a laugh.
“Flowers in her hair.”
“Flowers everywhere.”
“Everywhere.”
“I love the flower girl,” the two finished together, breaking up in laughter as Peter played the final chord.
“So,” Peter asked, clearing his throat, that’s the song that inspired your story about me?”
“Mmm hmm,” Tippy said, wiping her eyes from laughing so much.
“You know,” she continued to say, “you’re a lot better at this than what I thought you’d be.”
“A lot better at what?” Peter asked innocently.
“Talking to girls,” Tippy said shyly.
“Oh,” Peter said, perking up, “Davy’s been giving me lessons. Ever since Valerie, things have been a lot easier.”
Tippy looked down at her feet and kicked the table softly, “So, are you still seeing her?”
“No,” Peter answered, strumming the guitar, “she moved to New York City a few months ago. I get a letter here and there, but that’s about it.”
“Oh,” Tippy said, looking over at him, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said with a smile.
Instantly Tippy knew that she wasn’t.
“Well, I’d better be getting back to bed,” Tippy said, moving to get up.
“Wait,” Peter said, getting up as well, setting his guitar down on the couch.
“What,” Tippy asked, standing up and heading for the bedroom.
Grabbing her hand before she could get away, Peter faced her and looked into her eyes.
Tippy felt as though she was dreaming as he said, “Davy said the most important thing to do is take your chances.”
Before she knew it, Peter had kissed her.
“Goodnight,” he said, releasing her and heading back to his room, leaving Tippy standing there, frozen.
Finally getting back her composure, she walked back into the bedroom, and shut the door behind her, leaning back on it to calm her racing heart.
“That’s what it is,” she thought excitedly. “This is the television dimension. Anything can happen here. Even the impossible. If that wasn’t impossible, or downright unbelievable, I don’t know what is.”
Making her way over to the bed, she was about to lay down and try to sleep when she heard a voice from the floor.
“Just what were you doing young lady,” Desy asked.
“Oh, man,” Tippy whispered, “you would not believe what just happened!”
“What happened, what happened,” Jean asked.
“You’re awake too,” Tippy asked, chiding herself for asking such a dumb question.
“I am now too,” Rose said, throwing a pillow at Jean, “Thanks buddy.”
“What’s going on,” Nancy asked sleepily.
“Well, I got up to get a glass of water,” Tippy began.
“Wow,” Desy exclaimed sarcastically, “now that is unbelievable!”
“Ha ha,” Tippy said before she finished telling the whole story.
“Oh wow,” Jean said. “That is so cool!”
“Incredible,” Rose said, “It’s just like your stories, accept you’re actually living it.”
“No, wait,” Tippy said, “that’s not the exciting part.”
“What could be more exciting than that,” Nancy asked.
“I figured out this is the television dimension,” Tippy said.
“So,” Desy asked.
“Well, what happens on TV,” she asked. “The impossible. The things that happen on TV could never happen in real life. Things that work in this dimension could never work anywhere else. It’s like a fantasy world.”
“Cool,” Jean said, “this means I really can get Davy to fall in love with me!”
“Yep,” Tippy said, “but more importantly, we can find a way to get home too.”
“I was expecting it to be a lot of work,” Rose said thoughtfully. “Chemistry can be really complicated.”
“It’s not here,” Tippy said. “Micky was just fooling around with that stuff. I think if you fooled around with it some more, we’d get be able to get back. There’s really no rhyme or reason to anything that happens here. Anything that happens is telling a story that people will want to see. Mixing complex chemicals all day isn’t too interesting to most television watchers, so I think it will be easier than you think.”
“Cool,” Desy said, “this is the greatest place, but I miss home. I miss my boyfriend.”
“I miss home too,” Rose agreed.
All around the room the same sentiment echoed.
All accept from Tippy.
Go On to Part Four
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