Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Moonfire(* scurries out of the poolhouse, her toga wrinkled and her laurel wreath slightly askew.

"Um…hi, everybody! Whoa…I didn't expect there to be so many…One, two, four, eight, fifteen, elevendy-nine…What? No! *ahem* I'm not unprepared! No…not in the least. It's just that things are still a little well, uh, you know…

Suddenly, through the extravagantly beaded front door of the cyber-poolhouse bounds Mikey the Wonderpup.

"Whoa, Mikey! Down boy! I'm sorry, sir…I guess he's still waiting for Davy. You see, he was a gift…and, uh, well, the clones don't have the same smell, apparently. He's really a very good dog…we try to keep him under control. Total control. But, sometimes it seems just a little…futile. *more throat clearing*

"Now, I'm sure you're all wondering about the toga. These are special ceremonial Monkees togas that are made out of special ceremonial bedsheets. Everyone who wants a toga will be issued one, color-coded according to their relative state of Monkees virginity. Theresa…I mean, Jeweled Trav'ler, would be able to explain better…

"What's the laurel wreath for? It's for effect. What do you think?

"Now how many of you are newbies? Raise your hands high! Okay, great, we have something special for you guys to do…and those of you who want to meet the newbies, we hold newbie forums regularly to meet and greet and eat twinkies...lots and lots of twinkies!"

Very Evil Grin.

"I guess we're all ready to go in…please form an orderly line going through the front door…we wouldn't want to tangle up our collection of blue and white Davy beads! Oh, and please note the life size cardboard cutouts of the guys, I painted them myself.

"For those of who who are not satisfied with cardboard cutouts, my sis Lyric has been known to crank out a clone or two-hundred in her laboratory, but beware! As my cousin Autumn has noted, Monkeess clones are known to be kind of…unpredictable!

"Are we all in? No, no need to wipe your feet, we're very casual here! Sorry about the mess, methinks my cyber-roomie is getting a bit carried away with her collage…notice that all four walls are completely plastered with Monkees pics. That's her doing. The printer is running all the time…we go through dozens of cartridges weekly…not to mention scotch tape, masking tape…

Theresa--I mean Jeweled Trav'ler--enters the room, all business.

"All right, where's my duct tape? Oh, crikey! Cori, are you bringing a tour through now?"

"Well, they were all gathered out there, and I thought…hey, where's Coco?"

"Probably in the closet, shredding another woolhat. Do you want me to take over the tour now, while you go check on the little imp?"

"Good idea. Later, babe."

Moonfire(* disappears into the closet door, and J.T. smiles at the crowd.

"Welcome to our little world! Please feel free to grab a beanbag or a chair…as you can see, we're well stocked with furniture that's low to the ground, because…well… we're low to the ground! Cori had to stand on a stool to paint the eyebrows on the Davy cutout…

An indignant voice from the closet calls "I did not!"

"Please ignore the indignant voice from the closet."

J.T. leads the crowd of pilgrims into the main room of the Poolhouse. Just as Moonfire(* said, every wall is covered in Monkees pics (one wall for each individual Monkee, with group pics staring down from the ceiling).

"This, my friends, is the inner sanctum. In this main room, Moonfire and I spend countless hours in such Monkee-related activities as fanfiction writing, attempting to induce Monkee dreams (nothing chemical, kiddies!), singing along with our extensive collection of recordings, training our clones, holding support groups for fellow teeny- weeny short people, staring at the walls, and giggling. Lots of giggling. Occassionally we will also jump up and down three times and roll cabbage."

"Oh, by the way, for those of you especially interested in Monkees dreams and fanfiction, although we have plenty lying around the Poolhouse, a more extensive collection can be found in my buddy dobolina*'s Monkees Pad, one of the most totally gear/fab Monkees/Beatles fan sites on the web, and I'm not just saying that because she lets me steal her pics.

"The sacred stories that Moonfire(* and I have found in our extensive travels can be found in this giant, very heavy tome. Chekkidout, it's even bigger than the Book of Mysteries...but not quite as ponderous as the Book of Virtues.

"Please, everybody observe a reverent silence as we enter my corner of the room...if you can't tell by the piles of paisley pillows, the single candle, and the faint smell of Polo cologne...*sigh*...this is my shrine to Micky. True Dolenzkateers may enter and worship...

"Over on Moonfire(*'s side of the room, things are a bit more Davyfied! She has a lovely shrine of her own, horse sculptures, and there is a rumor that she has some steamy (literally) pics hidden somewhere...but I've been sworn to secrecy! She also has headphones so that she can listen to the very sappiest of Davy songs without making me climb the walls...

"I heard that!"

"Excuse me, ladies and germs, I really should get that indignant voice fixed..."

"Don't listen to her, folks! She's been known to put "Someday Man" on repeat!"

J.T. blushes and clears her throat.

"Ummmm...shall we move on?"

Suddenly, the red phone in the corner rings insistently. Moonfire(* comes running out of the closet.

"I'll get it I'll get it I'll get it I'll get it I'll get it I'll get it...Hello?"

"If it's Davy, tell him that I'll try not to worry...but if he does get hurt, it's his own fault..."

"No...not so lucky this time, J.T. It's Ev3a...she says somebody's put Jell-O in the pool..."

"Yeah? And this is a problem?"

"Yeah, well it's red Jell-O, and Mystic's allergic."

J.T. springs into action, pulling the lever on the wall marked "Red Alert" (right next to the sign that says "In case of fire...RUN!"). She then breaks the glass panel in the Emergency Equipment case, and grabs provisions...namely several hundred plastic spoons and some giant cans of Reddi-Wip...before dashing out the back door to the pool.


Please, visit our squirrel!

Not "back" like in a box back...