Bob:Hey mans, welcome back.

Davy:Thank you, Mr. Raefelson.

Bob:Welcome back home. New year.

Peter:Are we doing that?

Mike:Are we rolling?

Peter:Are we rolling?

Bob:Yeah, you're on, babe.

cut to Peter (holding Take Meter):"--34 - 1 - 35!" (pretends to smash fingers)

cut to Micky (shooting imaginary machine gun):Soul brother!

cut to Davy:My sister had another baby--

cut to Mike:I had all the windows in my cars painted black--

cut to Peter:Hi, America! Hi, Televisionland.

cut to Micky

Bob:Micky, do-- so you think of--

Micky:I really hate these interviews, man.

(Bob laughs.)

Bob:What are you wearing, man?

Micky:A tablecloth.

Mike:Carpet.

(Micky shakes head at Mike.)

Bob:It's been a couple months since we've all seen ya, and you've changed!

(Micky leans over and Mike whispers in his ear.)

Peter:He's wearing an earring.

Micky:This is a carpet from Davy Jones's dining room.

(Peter laughs.)

Davy:That's Mike's line.

(Mike waves in victory to camera.)

Peter:Mike's line, Mike's line.

Mike:Thanks...

Bob:And how 'bout your hair? Where'd you get that from?

Micky:Uh, I just let it grow.

Bob:Peter, what have you got around your neck there?

Peter:Beads.

Bob:Yeah, but what are they strung from?

Peter:Well... (looking at beads) Uh, this one is, uh, strung-- (pretends to hang himself)

(Micky laughs.)

Bob:Davy? Did you get to see your family this summer?

Davy:Yeah, I saw my father, my sisters...

Bob:I wanna know--

Mike:Did you know--

Bob:What?

Mike:Did you know that a chick mailed herself to Davy? Davy didn't--

Bob:Oh! Yeah! What happened about that one?

Davy:Some, some young lady came up with the bright idea of mailing herself to us--

Mike:And it ruined her arm... (makes postage machine noises)

(Micky cracks up.)

Davy:And she put herself in a big box, put herself in a box this big, and sent herself up and put photographs on it. And we opened it and this young lady popped out.

Bob:What happened to her?

Peter:Popped her back in again.

(Micky continues to laugh.)

Davy:We shipped her to The Beatles.

cut to Micky:I really hate these interviews.

Mike:We'll do an interview together. You and me. Here we go. (clears throat) ...Well uh... t- tell me, Mick... uh, where did you g--.. uh--

Micky:I really hate these interviews, Mike.

Mike:--get your hair? ...Oh.

cut to Peter:"--35..." (pinches fingers) Oww!

cut to (Monkees get up and leave, Davy dancing and snapping fingers.)

Bob:Welcome back, everybody.

Davy (singing):"--some, everyone..."

Mike:It's because we walk so funny...

(Micky laughs...)