The tension in the room was palpable. No one was breathing a word to each other. The lingering silence and enraged glares that were passed between three roommates (and one looking defeated) at the breakfast table were more telling than any words that could be uttered. And yet, the silence had to break at some point.

"Peter, can you please ask Davy to pass the milk? That is if he doesn't tend to steal it like he did with my date last night!" Micky asked indignantly.

"Peter, can you tell Micky that if he wants something then he needs to put in the effort to keep it. It's not my fault that he can't hold someone's interest," Davy answered arrogantly.

"For God sakes Peter, can you tell Davy and Micky to be adults about things and actually talk things out? Unlike last night when they made fools of themselves, and cost us future job opportunities!" Mike chimed in with his voice growing louder with each word.

Peter's head was whipping back and forth with the continued banter between his roommates. They were all talking at once, but not to each other. Peter was the go between ever since the debacle at a gig two nights ago...

The guys had booked a gig playing at a nightclub The Bungalow. If the owner liked their performance there was a chance that they would have standing gig for the foreseeable future, which of course meant money in the bank. The set seemed to be progressing quite well and the crowd was responding positively to the music.

During a midway break, Micky began chatting up a girl at the bar that he had invited to the show to hear them play. Micky was romantically interested in her and planned to ask her on a date at the show. He excused himself to the restroom only to come back to find Davy sitting in his place next to the girl with interlocked fingers. He approached the pair in time to hear Davy ask, "Would you like to go out tomorrow night?"

Micky in that moment had had enough of Day's sense of entitlement when it came to girls. Micky tapped him on the shoulder, "What do you think you're doing, small fry?" with grit in his voice.

"What?" Davy asked in general confusion looking his bandmate up and down. Then it hit him that Micky had insulted his height. "Who are you calling small fry you scarecrow?"

"Congratulations, you're wittier than the bully that tormented me in the third grade. You should be so proud," Micky shot back.

With that the two broke into a knock-down, drag out physical fight. The girl stood up and left the bar, not wanting to be involved in such a scene. Mike and Peter were standing in the corner of the room speaking about a song they were collaborating on writing, when they heard the commotion and headed over.

Mike had to pull them apart as Peter looked on with tears in his eyes. Mike had fire in his eyes as he held up his younger counterparts by the shirt collars, both wriggling to try and free themselves from his grip. Mike went to open his mouth to reprimand the two when the manager approached looking like a combination annoyed and flabbergasted.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared.

"Well you see sir…" Mike began, as he let go of the other guys, trying to think quickly about how they would get out of this one unscathed.

"It's performance art, Sir," Peter offered weakly.

"Performance art?" the manager asked still exasperated, tapping his foot with arms crossed.

"Yes, during the break…we…try to liven the place up again…so they will stay for the entertainment," Peter stumbled. "Everyone loves a spectacle. We are trying to keep them coming back for more."

"That's not really the image we are trying to portray here at The Bungalow," the manager said seeming to cool down a bit. "Why don't you all just finish your set without any more surprises."

"Certainly, Sir," Mike blew out a sigh of relief.

Mike and Peter made their way to the band stand as Micky and Davy eyed each other with contempt. Davy turned on his heel to start heading towards the band stand as well, when Micky stuck out his foot and tripped the Englishman. Davy hit the floor like a ton of bricks, smacking his chin on the concrete floor and causing a bleeding gash. Micky smugly stepped over his fallen frenemy to stroll away. Suddenly, he was on his way down too as Davy grabbed Micky's ankle and pulled him toward the floor.

Mike, hearing the crash, turned around in time to see Micky hit the floor. Mike took large strides to prevent the inevitable from happening. But, he was too late; Davy used Micky's leg to pull himself up to the drummer and started the fight where they had left off earlier. Mike used his legs to kick the two apart when he heard a booming voice ring out behind him, "That's it! Get out of this club NOW!"

Not any of Mike's smooth talking could calm the manager down. He was clear that The Monkees were not welcome back to even be customers at The Bungalow. And there would be no payment due to an unfinished job as well as a couple of broken bar stools.

Mike was seething as he packed up the instruments and threw those as well as his brawling bandmates into the Monkeemobile. "What the hell were you two thinking? You cost us tonight's money as well as future opportunities here. What do you have to say for youselves?" Mike barked.

Peter peeked into the backseat from the passenger's seat to see Micky and Davy sitting on opposite ends of the seat in order to make no contact with each other; arms folded and staring out their respective windows. No one made a sound.

Mike broke the silence, "WELL?!"

Micky and Davy both jumped at the outburst and said in unison, "It was all his fault…My fault!"

"I don't care who's fault you think it is," Mike scolded. "You both made fools of yourselves and of Peter and I. You should be ashamed and sorry."

"I'm not sorry because I was just standing up for myself," Davy said. "Why not yell at this brute over here? He's the one with the anger issues."

"I swear to God, Jones don't start with me again," Micky said through gritted teeth, "or there will hell to pay."

"There will hell to pay from both of you if you don't start trying to make this right," Mike was getting angrier by the second.

There was utter silence throughout the car. Peter turned back around and sank down into the seat not knowing what to do. He doubted anything he had to say would matter and he didn't want to risk anyone getting mad at him. Peter would take no sides, he was Switzerland.

"Fine!" Mike snapped putting the car in drive and peeling out of the parking lot.

With the constant bickering and back and forth between his roommates, Peter couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table. Abruptly the talking stopped and all eyes were on Peter. With that Switzerland waved his white flag in the form of running into their shared bedroom and locking the door.

"Now look what you've done!" Mike, Micky, and Davy all reprimanded at the same time. "What I've done!"

There were silent scowls around the table for few moments. "Now I know we have all been at each other's throats for the past few days," Mike finally said gavel in hand. "And I am by no means ready to forgive and forget, but we have things to do today and can't have Peter locked away. Let's put up a united front to get him out of the bedroom and go where we need to go."

"Then can we go back to hating each other?" Micky said glaring at Davy.

"Why are you glaring at me?" Davy asked his voice dripping with contempt.

"I'm hoping you'll spontaneously combust."

"Grow up!" Davy retorted.

"Knock it off! Now can you two form a truce for Peter's sake, for at tops an hour?" Mike tried to keep his cool.

"Fine," Micky and Davy both answered irritably.

They all trudged up the spiral staircase and Mike knocked softly on the bedroom door. "Hey Shotgun, mind if we come in?"

"No! I can't take the arguing anymore. I can't be the go between," Peter sobbed.

"We're sorry Peter. We are going to start moving on from this," Davy lied.

"Yeah we are making a truce," Micky added, "even though everyone knows the British can't be trusted with that kind of stuff."

Mike elbowed Micky in the ribs. "What do you say, Pete? Willing to come out and go with us on our errands today? We have to go to the bank and try to get a loan to stay financially afloat."

The three waited on the other side of the door listening for movement. After two minutes, the door opened a crack and the bassist peeked out, eyes glistening with tears. "Hug."

"Excuse me?" Davy asked.

"You heard me," Peter answered deadpan. "If you're all serious, hug."

They stared at each other wide eyed. Before anyone knew it Micky squished Mike and Davy into a big, tense group hug. He whispered under his breath, "Make it convincing. I want smiles people." Mike and Davy forced tight, uncomfortable smiles on their faces.

They heard the door creak open the rest of the way and Peter was on top of them in the embrace. "I knew you all would come to your senses."