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Peter:
"Micky...? Do you see vines growing on Bob's face?
Because I thought it was just me, because I see vines growing on his face,
but I thought, well, no,
maybe Micky sees it too, but maybe it's just me, and..."
Micky:
"Peter, get that damn thing away from my head,
you're going to kill me!!!!!!!!!"
Michael:
"I know my geetar is hot. You're jealous of the geetar.
I know. Yeah, I know, my clothes are hot too. You're jealous
of both my clothes and my geetar? Well, you can't *be* me..."
Peter:
"I just found out that the local convent *is* going to let
us stay with them, as long as we're willing to convert."
Michael:
"Oh, WOW, are these pants tight."
Davy:
"Mike, whoa, I didn't need to hear about that."
Micky:
"Uh... how tight are they? Cowboy."
Davy:
"This way, Micky, she'll at least think
*something* of yours is big."
Peter:
"Yeah, 'cause you know I still beat you in *that*
department..."
Michael:
"Davy, is that your... *hand* on my ass...?"
Davy:
"Oh, Mike, I thought, that..."
Peter:
"Oh, aren't they cute?"
Micky:
"Now, how am I going to explain to therapists years from now
that I lived with three other men, and we called ourselves 'Monkees'?"
Michael:
"Now, do you solomnly swear to worship my every move,
bow dow to eagles when they wink at you, accept that the First National Band is god,
and tell everyone you know that 'Michael Nesmith' is the most respectable man
and musician alive...?"
Micky:
"It's not really fair if he's *stoned* Mike..."
Michael:
"Keep out of this. Give me a minute, and I'll get him
to worship you too."
Davy:
"I must obey, I must obey... Do you have a pacifier?
I want my security blanket... [to Micky] Mommy? *grin*"
Peter:
"No, Mike, I don't think anyone thinks we're
gay. We just like being on this bed together. Mike, why won't you come on the bed...?"
Micky:
"What's wrong with being gay?"
Davy:
"Nothing... if you are. But we want women."
Micky:
"Speak for yourself... Cowboy."
Davy:
"Yes, to many of you I'm just Davy Jones:
cute, cuddly, attractive, sauve, intelligent, musical genius... But to many,
yes, to too many, I am nothing more than a peice of flesh, their playtoy,
treated like an object... And I love it."
Michael's cult was increasing in membership at rates
he never dreamed. Even now as he plays the guitar he is channeling his members
through mental telepathy and the acid he poored on their cereal this morning.
That's right, today 40 million viewers are watching the Monkees in ways they
never thought imaginable. And they would come to worship this tall,
dark-haired Texan because of it.
Michael:
"I thought I would like this nude protest more...
Geeez."
Micky:
"Oh, it's not that bad Michael, but... Oh, God, is that
a man, or a woman...?"
Davy:
"Yeah, this is definately more interesting than the paper."
Peter:
"Do you think *she's* taken...?"
Micky:
"Bob keeps us here. And doesn't pay us.
He calls us 'Monkees'. I don't know what that means. He makes me play with them.
They bite. One wears this hat. The hat scares me."
Peter:
"So. Stoned."
Peter:
"So, uh, while eating my strawberry yogurt this
morning, I started thinking about... us."
Davy:
"Peter, I told you, I'm already dating three women
at once that I'm stringing along, and you're always in it for the love.
I can't give you love."
Davy:
"He wants me to... play a woman. BOB!"
Stranger:
"So, I was telling her, 'I can buy you a ring
after I pay
my down payment on our mobile home,
and then we can have kids together', but she didn't think I would
be a stable father..."
Michael:
"Have any of you guys seen my windex?"
Peter:
"Oh. My. God."
Peter:
"Well, this is definately the last time I go along
with you when you want to 'play' something."
Micky:
"Like how was *I* supposed to know???"
Davy:
"Peter, Peter, I lost my contacts...!"
Peter:
"Why, is no one writing to you anymore...?"
Davy:
"Peter, the ones in my eyes!"
Peter:
"That sounds painful..."
Girl:
"You're my hero..."
Peter:
"You're my only fan..."
Davy:
"Oh, Peter, you didn't think we would
*really* leave you locked in that closet, all alone, now did you? ... Micky,
*ahem*, where's the key?"
Michael:
"Ah am so cool, de da da, oh yes, Ah am, Ah am,
Ah am playing mah air geetar, la de da, da da... I'm so glad no one can see me now...
All alone... la de da... no one here, but... ah... guys?"
Micky:
"Heh heh, no, I haven't done Circus Boy in years... Heh heh,
no, years, years,
when I was a kid. What? You liked to see my ride the elephant? Heh heh, what?
You want to see me ride it
again? Now? You like to see me riding *things*...? Can you be a little more specific?"
Michael:
(thinking) "So, THIS is the man who destroyed my life
a hundred years ago... a hundred years ago... Mmmmmmmmm hmmmmmmmmmmm... A hundred
years ago.
You better know I be damn sure that won't happen again.
And you better be damn sure I remember things for a long time. A long, long time... Yes,
Peter, now as I stare into that head of yours..."
Mozzarella Pizza Brothers!!!
Pizza in under one hour! Gauranteed!
Davy:
"I don't know Peter, I'm not feeling
the effect of those pills... Peter. Peter?"
Peter:
"Oh. My. God."
Peter:
"Move over, Mr. Nesmith...
You and the 'First National Band'... and your cowboy look... your
Texan walk, and that strange hat...
taking my girl... you're not so sexy! You're not sexy at all!
*I'm* sexy! *I'm* sexy! I AM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Mmmmmmmmmmm... giving Peter head is good..
The MOVIE, the Monkees MOVIE... What were YOUUUUUU thinking?????
And it's my website, so....
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