Spiritual Audition 1/5 (Cycle Blind universe, based off of "Find the Monkees/the Audition")
Mike really hated to admit when he was wrong. Especially when his roommate's being right set them back a good chunk of money.
But, he had to admit -- Micky had been right. Using the child's alphabet blocks was a fun and quick way to teach himself Braille. And the collapsible cane that was now more or less permanently parked in his back pocket helped tremendously when "Blobby" moved and left him blind.
Like now.
"Peter?" he called. "You still here?"
"He just left," Davy said as he walked into the room. "What is it?"
"Did he take our audition tapes to send off?"
"No," Davy chuckled. "Because I sent them off this morning. One to Harold's, one to the Club Cavanaugh, and one to that contest Lloyd Benson is holding."
Mike froze, blind eyes gazing somewhere in the region of Davy's shoulder. "Lloyd Benson? You actually sent one to him?"
"I sure did! He's running a contest for a group to record the theme song for his new show."
"Davy," Mike said, shaking his head. "You've got more guts than me!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lloyd Benson growled from his massage table as his diminutive secretary walked in . "Miss Chumsky, PLEASE tell me you're not bringing me another blasted audition tape!"
Miss Chumsky snorted at him and strung the reel-to-reel. "You promised you'd listen to ten this afternoon. You've only listened to nine."
"Nine was enough," Benson groaned, dropping his forehead back onto his arms. "Go away."
Instead of replying audibly, Miss Chumsky turned on the reel-to-reel.
The music of the Monkees poured into the room -- "Mary Mary" in full rocking mode.
But, although Benson had no way of knowing, the vocals were distorted. What he was hearing was not precisely what they had recorded that day.
Benson's head snapped up, his eyes huge. "Play that back!"
Miss Chumsky obeyed, and Benson began to grin. "That's it! That's the sound I want! Pure pop, pure rhythm -- and those VOCALS! Smoky tenor with an ethereal soprano singing harmony -- PERFECT!"
"Perfect, sir?"
"Perfect! Mixed-gender bands are all the rage now! Whose tape is that?"
"Uh -- the Monkees, it looks like."
"I've got to find these Monkees, Miss Chumsky! I've GOT to meet that woman who sings like an angel!"