Occiditur

I'd Do Anything

Oct. 1969

"What's happening Micky?" Peter cheered as he walked into the studio.

Mike and I had met at the studio to work on a new song for the album.

"Hey, Pete." I sighed, and made room for him on the couch.

"Michael." Peter nodded in greeting.

Mike paid no attention to our friend.

"Have either of you seen Davy?" I inquired.

"Last I saw of him was his knuckles in my face!" Peter complained.

I frowned and studied Peter's slightly bearded face. In the dim light it was hard to see but he was defiantly bruised.

I let my gaze fall to the floor. Why couldn't they get along?
"Peter, you got anything to smoke?" Mike asked.

Peter reached down into a box he'd brought in with him and pulled out a bag of marijuana. He smiled wildly. "I have some crack as well."

Mike faked annoyance, "Pete, nobody wants your illegal drugs! I meant a cigarette."

Peter laughed. "Yes, I know. And no I don't. You're supposed to be quitting those things!"

"I think Van keeps his in the top drawer of the filling cabinet." I said to Mike.

Mike stood up to find the cigarettes, and Peter lit the joint he'd rolled. I watched as he drew in the smoke of the drug. A smile appeared on his face as he breathed it out.

"You want some?" Peter asked me.

I scoffed and shook my head.

"Come on man, you look so uptight. You need it to wind yourself down." Peter explained.

"I told you, the day we wrote the outline for head was the first and last time I have ever, and will ever, do drugs!" I laughed.

Peter giggled out smoke.

"That was a good day." Peter sighed.

"Maybe for you!" I laughed. "But my lungs and brain have never been the same." I joked.

"You're just a sissy." Peter tried not to smile but the drugs were getting to his mind. He brought the joint to his lips to mask his grin.

I shook my head and the smile I was wearing slowly faded back to a frown.

"Ooo!" Michael called out. "Choices! Camel, or Marlborough?"

"Obviously Camel." Peter said with a smile.

"Good deal!" Mike cheered. He lit his cigarette and returned to the couch.

"Okay so I think we have the melody down." Mike said through a cloud of nicotine.

"Let's hear it." Peter said.

"Okay..." Mike picked up his guitar and began to play. Even to my untrained ears I knew it didn't sound good. However Mike played the entire song and when he was finish he crumpled up the sheet music without saying a word.

I sighed and buried my face into my hands.

"This is impossible. We've worked on one song for four days straight!" I yelled.

Mike was just as frustrated. He stood and kicked the filling cabinet with a terrifying force. I jumped at the clattering of the metal. Mike screamed in pain. He hopped around clutching his foot, before sitting back onto the couch.

"Is it possible that we are losing our touch?" Asked Peter.

"Obviously it is!" Mike yelled.

"Hey, peace Michael!" Peter defended himself.

"Yeah, Mike, please don't get angry. I don't think any of us can take it."

Mike sighed in annoyance. "Of course, I'm the bad guy now."

"That's not what I meant!" I said in fear that Mike would be mad at me.

"You didn't have to say it Micky." Peter said.

"I don't need you to defend me." Mike jested.

"I was just helping." Peter apologized.

"Well you need to learn that no one wants your help, Peter!" Mike jumped to his feet and walked angrily out of the room. I jumped when he slammed the door.

That emotion of fear and panic returned. I couldn't breathe and tears stung at the back of my eyes. I folded my arms over my knees and tucked my face into the crooks of my elbows.

"It's okay Micky." Peter put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

A few minutes later he extinguished his joint and asked if I would drive him home. Of course I said yes. I helped him walk out to my convertible T-Bird and shoved his box into my back seat. I let him ride up front with me. He talked to me about all the pretty things he was seeing. He told me that it was a happy land and that he wished I was there with him.

I wished I was there as well. I wished I could go back in time and accept my friend's offer. A little over halfway home Peter stopped talking and turned on the radio. When I arrived at his home I realized he was stoned. He was in a deep sleep. I smiled halfheartedly at him. He looked so at peace. Both at peace with himself and with the world. I wanted to be him. I always wanted to be him. But right then, that night, I'd have done anything to be Peter Tork.

Peter's wife was out of town and I didn't want him to be alone. So I cranked my car back up and drove off into the night. I took him to the home in L.A. where I and my wife Samantha were raising our daughter Ami. I drug him inside and laid him out on the living room couch. I put a pillow under him and Sam brought in a blanket to put over him.

Sam and I walked hand in hand into the kitchen so we could talk.

Once there she turned and kissed me.

"How was your day?" She asked with a smile.

"Not so good." I pushed the hair back from her face and smiled sadly. Sam frowned. Even frowning she was beautiful.

"I'm so sorry baby." She sighed as we took our seats at the table.

"It's alright, because I came home to you." I said.

She blushed and flashed her eyes.

"Is Ami in bed already?" I asked.

"Yep. She's out like a light." Sam laughed.

"I guess me and you have a tendency to put people to sleep!" I joked.

She rolled her eyes at my lame excuse for a joke, and stood up. Because our hands were still intertwined she pulled me with her. She took me into the bedroom and stopped only when she'd reached the crib where our daughter was sound asleep. I stood behind my wife with my hands on her shoulders and my chin resting on her head.

"She's so beautiful." I sighed. "She looks like her mother."

"Now, Micky! You know that is not true! You know very well that she is the spitting image of you." Sam contradicted.

I couldn't deny it. Ami looked a lot like me when I was an infant. But I saw so much of her mother in her. Like the color of her hair and her beautiful brown eyes. The thought of them made me smile.

Sam looked up at me and smiled. I kissed her once more and pulled her to the bed. I was tired from the stress of the day and all I wanted was to hold her close and fall asleep in her arms.