Chapter 5: Refocus

  gathering of Monkeeheads rendezvoused at the closed Denny's. Because of an odd communication problem on the CB the caravan had gotten split into two groups, but a bus, three cars, and eleven long-haired Friends of Jesus responded and backtracked to the crossroad. There was serious concern that the Great Monkeehead Caravan would never reform, and that the Monkee Nation was now a memory.

Tami, as the first one at the accident scene, had taken over the medical duties. "He's still unconscious. 'Least, I think he is. With Nick it's hard to tell. But every once in a while I think I can make out that he's saying 'Cleveland.'"

"Cleveland? What's Cleveland got to do with anything?"

"Nothing in my experience. But that's what he's saying. Something about Cleveland being the place to meet the babes."

It took nearly 10 nanoseconds for Nightgown to suggest they turn those puppies around and head northeast back up 44.

"He's coming to!"

The dizziness was overpowering, though I knew I had to fight my way back to consciousness. Consciousness? I didn't exactly remember passing out, but I recognized the dull pain and unfocused vision that I was experiencing, and knew that I needed to take slow, deep breaths or I'd be back out.

What was it that Nicktoon had said? I tried to focus on his words, but my immediate discomfort seemed to block my concentration. Maslowe's Heirarchy. A pyramid of some kind, I recalled dimly from business school; physical needs take precedence over mental and spiritual... I thought briefly of food. Snapple. Peas and Hominy. Peas and Hominy holds whey?

Slow, deep breaths.

Slowly my vision returned, and I tried to make sense of my new surroundings. I was lying on a carpet of moss in a thinning forest. The sun, though bright, provided little warmth on my face; a stiff breeze from outside the forest was making me uncomfortably cool, and I wished I had at least a windbreaker. Ray Bolger was kneeling next to me, holding my head.

There are few things that could have snapped me out of it like this. No, no, no. This was stupid, I thought. It's been done. C'mon, was The Wizard Of Oz the best my subconscious could do? I was disappointed in myself. Hitchhiker's Guide would have been WAY cooler. At least that way, I'd know the answer to all this. Forty-two.

"He's coming to, guys," Bolger repeated, squeezing some kind of liquid out of a mushroom into my mouth. It tasted like ...tea. I sat up. Okay, let's see: Scarecrow, Tin Man -- hmmph, looked more like Buddy Ebsen than Jack Haley -- and, okay, the Lion's coming over too, now. I didn't see Judy anywhere, or the camera crew, for that matter...

Man, I hate days like this.

"Relax, son. You gave us quite a scare, you know," Ebsen said as he crouched down next to Bolger.

"Okay," I said, "Let's do the drill, Buddy. Where am I? Who are you? You know how it goes." I was getting testy by this time, and seriously wanted to get back to the Monkeeheads before we lost the caravan.

"My name's Oliver. Ollie. I'm a dancer -- well, used to be, anyway. Scarecrow here's name is Earl, and the Circus Lion -- Cork, where ARE you? -- the Lion's name is Corky. Get over here, will you?"

The Circus Lion looked a lot like Bert Lahr, except his teeth were capped. And his hair kept ...changing.

"Cork and I found you lying by... we call this place The Forest Without A Label, by the way -- we found you lying on the ground over by the cee-ment pond, and we didn't think it would be a good idea to leave you here alone. We're going to the Shrine. You're welcome to join us."

"The Shrine? It's near here?"

"Not too far. Down the road a bit, past the garden. Coupla miles, maybe ten or fifteen. Earl, here, doesn't live in the Forest; he's got a little place in the woods by the Beach. He stopped by this morning, and we all decided to visit the Shrine."

"We're off to see The King," Earl added.

"Why, to get a brain?"

"Nah, already got one. Don't be fooled by appearances."

Well, let it never be said that I don't know a good dream sequence when I see one. Realizing that this might be a good way to meet the Babes, I stood up, and the four of us --legs locked in unison, just like in the movie -- walked down the path and out of the forest, into the evening twilight.

With Torka in the lead and the others following behind the compression wave, the second half of the caravan decided to pull over for the night. A rest stop came up ahead about eight miles after they had crossed into Texas, and the minibuses, campers, and motor homes took the exit lane and formed an impromptu trailer park behind the structure. As the front of Torka's Microbus cooled and dropped down the Main Sequence from blue-white to yellow to red, the group met briefly and Heath thought that they should probably get on the road again by about seven o'clock. The Monkeeheads retired to their vehicles, wondering if perhaps the Listoliers had gotten the rest of the caravan.