Part II: "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Mick"
by The Disappearing Woolhat
"Eh, enough of that now. No singing 'ere unless it's done right and proper by the Monkees or the Beatles."
'Sorry.'
It had been a week since the other two occupants of the Pad had found out about the Mike and Micky affair, and they still were dazed by it. Davy was often sure that Peter really didn't even understand the full extent of it, or maybe he just really liked playing stupid.
"Hey, Dave," drawled Mike, as he sauntered into the room. Funny how it looked more like chasé-ing instead of sauntering to Davy now that he knew.
"Yeah, Mike, what is it?"
"How about a game of horny, horny homo?"
"WHAT?!"
"I *said*, how about a game of hungry, hungry hippo?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. Sure, Mike, sounds good to me."
"I wanna plaaayyyyyy!" Micky slid down the stair case and landed in a cute little scramble at the bottom. Mike smiled smugly. He had wanted to lure Mick out into the open, and he knew the curly-headed man could never resist a heated match of hungry, hungry hippo.
"Pete," Micky shouted, running around in a circle. Mike sighed, knowing he shouldn't have let him eat
that third Crunch bar. Nestle's Crunch, the chocolate that puts a Crunch into your day. (Shameless promotion for my favorite candy bar...I'm so bad.)
Peter soon joined them and they all sat around the coffee table behind their respective homo- I mean
hippos.
"I'm gonna beat the pants off of you, Mike!" Micky grinned as his hippo swallowed a few of the little
white spheres. I would say balls, but...you know... ::Blush and twiddling of fingers::
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Davy said, perhaps a little *too* quickly. He was nervous enough with the two clothed. He didn't want to even *think* about them without pants...shudder.
"Faster, faster," Mick screamed at his poor unsuspecting hippo. Peter, who really wasn't all *that* dumb, tried to hold back a giggle. Davy gave him a very warning glance.
Soon, Micky had won the game and he held his arms above his head and shouted at his victory. When he had finally quieted down, they just sat there. Davy looked at Mike suspiciously, and wondered if
homosexuality could rub off on him. Peter looked at the two for any obvious signs, but couldn't really see any. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have sworn it couldn't be true.
After a moment, Micky broke the silence with, "Hey, Pete, do you think you could give me a suck?"
"Excuse me?!" Peter backed away.
"Could you give me a duck? I've kinda always wanted one, they're so cute and cuddly. You're friends with that far out pot smoking farmer dude right?"
"Riiight," Peter said, releaved that Micky hadn't said what he had thought, but worried that his paranoia was overtaking him, just like Davy. He didn't know how much more he could take. It had been happening all week. He was about to burst. He couldn't handle it any more. He was a wild man!
"ARGH!" He shouted. "MICK-I-SAW-YOU-AND-MIKE-NAKED-IN-BED-TOGETHER!"
Everyone sat there with a shocked look on their faces, except Micky.
"Yeah...and?"
"And...I saw you...and I didn't say anything...and I saw you...and him...and you...and you obviously don't
care, do you."
Micky thought about it. "Nope. Not really. So, now that it's out in the open..."
He scooted closer to Mike and put his arm around the still shocked Texan. Davy scooted closer to Peter, thought about it, and then scooted back to keep an equidistance between Pete and the *loving* couple. He could see it now. Soon the homosexuality would rub off and he would no longer find girls attractive. They would all go out on double dates to gay bars and play bingo on the third Thursday of every month, with kinky prizes for the winner. He would...
'Waitaminute,' he thought. 'Waitadadgum minute. All the lady-birds 'ave been swarming all over Micky and Mike lately. They like them because they are sending out an underlying gay vibe! Being gay is a chick magnet! Why didn't I think of that before?'
"Petah," he said. "Could you join me in the kitchen for a moment?"
"Whatever for, Davy?" He blinked innocently. He didn't have to try too hard to do so.
"Just *join me in the kitchen* if you will."
"Okay!"
So they got up and walked across the living room. Micky kept snuggling with the shocked-dumb Mike, but looked up and called after them:
"If you're thinking of having sex on the kitchen table, don't. We've tried it, and it's very uncomfortable."
Davy stopped and cringed, then continued into the kitchen.
"What's on your mind," Pete asked.
"Certainly more than you've got on yours. Oh, never mind. I was thinking. The girls really seem to go
wild over those two lately."
"And?"
"And," Davy said, "I concluded it's because of the gay vibes."
"I don't get it," Peter said.
"Oh, big surprise. The forbidden fruit, dumby. They can't 'ave them, so they want them!"
Pete thought some more, the little gears in his head straining very hard to calculate, the little hamster
on the wheel running as fast as he very well could. "Oh," Peter exclaimed, then deadpanned. "I still
don't get it."
Davy sighed. "Alright Petah, let me say this very, very slowly, so you can be sure you understand it. If
we pretend to be gay, women will like us more and we can 'ave lots of sex with them."
Pete smiled. "Okay then, Davy."
He grabbed the little British man's face and pulled him into a lip-smacking snog! Davy pushed the dummy away.
"Not now, you daft twit." He wiped at his lips. "Not ever, oh, 'ow 'orrid."
Peter Pouted. No one liked him, for he was sexless. Poor, Poor, sexless Peter, wallowing in a Pit of
sexlessness. Peter Perciville Patterson's Pet Pig Porky liked Pie (and mince tarts), but the Pig
Probably didn't like Poor Peter.
"Oh, come now Petah. Don't look glum. 'ey, 'ey...it, uh...it wasn't that bad of a kiss, really."
"Really?" Pete smiled hopefully.
"Uh, yes, really."
"Okay then," the daft twit said, pulling Davy in for another kiss. Boy, was he stupid. And sexless.
"Well, well," Micky said waving his hand around very flit-like. Davy pushed Peter away once again. "What do we have here? Hmmm, Mike?"
"Well, Micky, it looks like kissing."
"That's right, Mike. It does look like kissing."
"L-look," stuttered Davy, "It's not what you fellows think."
"Did you hear that, Micky," Mike asked. "It's not what we think."
Davy frowned. Drat those faeries! Things never turned out right for him. Why oh, why? Why must
everything happen to Davy Jones? Where was his cult of Davy Devotees when he needed them to stick up for his non-homosexuality? At the same moment, Peter was wishing that he had a sex. But he was soon distracted when he saw something shiney.
"Well, boys," Mike said, "I think we'll just let you two get back to what you were doing."
"And what is that, Mike," Davy grumbled with crossed arms.
"This."
Mike turned to Micky and pulled him into a deep, passionate, cum-in-your-pants kiss. Davy watched in
wonder as Micky seemed to melt into the Texans arms. He watched in horror as Micky's hands began to wander to spots of Mike's body he never really had wanted to see being touched. He watched with interest...wait, interest?
'Nooooooooooo,' his tiny British mind screamed, 'It's rubbing off, quick get it off me, get it off me!'
Pete at this point had gone over to the shiney thing and was now ooohing and aaahing. Mike, who was now very much aroused, picked Micky up and slung him over his shoulder. Davy watched as the tall, woolhatted man sprinted up the stairs in the direction of the nearest bed with a Micky waggling his fingers 'good-bye' behind him. Davy stood dazed.
"What the bloody hell just happened?"
"Oooh, toaster," said Pete.
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