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Overcome by embarrassment (sp?), you blush a red to rival this text.

"I think you'll have to see Bob. He's over there," you mumble, pointing to Joe. Bob doesn't work here anymore.

If you were looking up, instead of on your hands and knees working on the mess with a sponge that Bob (hey!) handed you, you'd see his face fall. That was kinda hard for him, since he was already looking down at you.

"Oh. Thank you anyway."

He walks away slowly as you watch him. Tears of embarrassment, shame and dissappointment mingle with the green drink on the floor.

You're so upset that you take off the rest of the day from work. You tell no one of your Monkee encounter, but only attend concerts when you're sure Mike won't be there, even though he's still your favorite Monkee.

THE END.

No, wait, I didn't do that! Take me BACK!


Are you still wondering about these Monkees? Did you run spell check on that?