"Guys! Guys!" the fuzzy one ranted in hysterics as he ran into the Pad, the pot shifting from side to side on his head. His three companions, standing at the bandstand preparing to practice, looked up with no particular curiosity or annoyance. Micky stopped just in front of the step. "Fings thloated in the garage! I mean our fuff was stoaing! I mean..."

"Micky!" Mike called stopping the boy in mid drivel. "Slow down, take a deep breath, and try again."

"Our mid in floating stuff air in I garage saw the," Micky attempted again remaining in hysterics. The three others looked at each other in confusion then back to Micky.

"What?!" the all spoke in unison.

"I saw our stuff floating in mid air in the garage," Micky amended more slowly. "I was about to walk out and I saw my toolbox and the surf board just float right in front of my eyes. You missed it."

"Can I ask a question?" Mike asked.

"You don't believe me," Micky deduced.

"Well, was the window open that is right by that wall where the tools and the surfboard and the beach stuff is?" Mike asked simply, folding his arms in the process.

"I don't know," Micky answered annoyed. Mike stepped forward approaching his friend. Micky removed the pot from his head as Mike began directing him back toward the garage.

"Here, let's you and me see the garage," Mike began, "then when I'm done humoring you, we can practice."

"Thanks Mike," Micky replied sarcastically.

Davy turned to Peter who was busy tweaking his bass. " 'Ey Peter," Davy spoke, "you don't suppose Micky's going mad, do you?"

"My boy, who knows why the birds stop swimming or the snakes climb down the mountains," Peter answered in a voice of ultimate wisdom.

"Wow," Davy commended. "How profound in a confusing way. What's it mean?"

"It means, my son," Peter continued, "I don't have a clue." Davy nodded in acceptance making a silent "oh" to him.

Just then, the two friends returned from the garage. Micky ranted and argued as Mike pulled him back into the living room. Mike seemed annoyed where Micky seemed confused.

"I swear, they were floating right beside me," Micky pleaded. "I saw them with my own eyes."

"Yes, the same eyes that just now saw the window open," Mike retorted. "And they're apart of the same body that felt that big gust of wind that came through that knocked over the shovel right next to where the surfboard was. Mick, it was the wind that blew everything down."

"So it was just wind?" Davy asked.

"All over our garage is a bunch of loose easy-to-blow-over type stuff that was blown over in a gust of wind right next to where Micky was standing," Mike explained. "And because of Micky's growing paranoia and his I-don't-get-scared-by-anythin' fuse went out, he thinks the stuff just floated next to him. So now, our drummer friend here is going to have to clean up said garage of all the..." He turned his head to holler in Micky's ear and continued, "light, loose, easy to blow over..." He turned back to the other band members, "stuff." Micky, after squinting his eyes several times at the volume increase in his left ear, rubbed his lob as if to fix the damage done.

"You shall rue this day, you know that?" Micky announced bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike asked. Micky stopped and thought in silence fore a second. What *did* that mean? "Alright. Alright. You speak old English, we'll practice. C'mon guys, lets go."