The Monkees’ pad had turned into chaos—again—and this time, it was because you and Micky were in the middle of a ridiculous argument.

“I’m just sayin’,” Micky waved his arms, “if you had a time machine, wouldn’t you go back and—”

“I don’t care, Micky!” you groaned.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Mike finally cut in, rubbing his temples. “Enough. I have heard every word of this ridiculous debate for the past hour, and I am officially callin’ it—y’all are both nuts.”

You and Micky both turned to protest, but Mike held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. Y’know what I do wanna hear? Silence.”