Suddenly it was as if the world had stopped, but it hadn't. Just looking at them made the agents' heads spin. Micky, the ringleader, was looking ever so slightly like one of those kids, you know, the one who stands there with their finger in their mouth, all innocent and sweet, but then they just start to go ever so slightly insane. This made Scully nervous. She had come across this person before. Not Micky, but others like him. However, this seemed to go right over her partner's head.

She followed him inside. The house - she had no concept of the word 'pad' - was musty, probably full of moulds she thought as she surveyed the scene in front of her. Even though David had made an effort to clean up after Micky the place still looked as though it had been turned upside-down and set back on its feet, so to speak.

Mulder, however, loved it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about the pad - he knew what it was - that appealed to him. He decided to ask Peter about the werewolf. For some reason he thought this was the right thing to do.

Peter, however, had other ideas. "Did you ever find out what happened to the cat?" he asked innocently.

Mulder realised for once that this was not a good idea and tried David out. David said, "Oh sure, I've seen it. Micky usually feeds it," with a perfect poker face.

Mulder sighed. This was going nowhere fast. He decided to question Micky directly, otherwise they'd be here until the next century.

But, before he could question Micky his partner took him aside.

"This is a complete waste of time," she hissed. "We are in a house that should be condemned, with people that are wearing the strangest clothes, who act even stranger. I think they're trying to con you."

He shook his head. "I think we should give this one a shot. There may be more to this thing than we thought."

Over by the sink the Monkees were watching this scene with great interest.

"Think she'll kill him?" Peter.

"If she hasn't done it by now she will by the time we get through with 'em." Micky.

"We can but do our best," David said dramatically.

They sauntered 'casually' over to the agents. "We'll take the case." The words nearly choked Scully.

The three Monkees smirked.

"You did what?!" Mike roared.

"It's only a bit of fun," Peter pouted. "It's not like we're breaking the law or anything."

"These people aren't Mr. Babbit. If they find out the truth then we will be in SERIOUS trouble," Mike tried to reason with his friends.

"Okay, if they do get suspicious then we'll stop," David, the voice of reason, said.

"Sure." Micky was lying through his teeth, all innocence.

"You can go ahead, but the minute they get the least bit suspicious you're to quit outright. And another thing, I am not getting involved. Understand?" Mike pointed his finger at the three in front of him. They nodded.

"Look, look, I've found something!" Peter bounced inside the pad. It was the next morning, and Mulder had arrived.

"What?" Micky's sleepy head appeared over the upstairs railings.

"He was here again!" Peter yelled.

"Who?" Micky slid down the spiral staircase. He was more awake now.

"Who do you think?" Peter glared at him.

"Oh. Yeah, he was here. It was about three this morning. He wasn't very hungry this time, which is strange," Micky explained.

Mulder jumped on this piece of information. "What does he eat?"

"Meat, mostly." Micky wandered over to the table, where a box of cereal sat. He shook it, then made a face as he realised it was empty.

David sniggered.

Mulder turned his attention back to Peter. Micky's attention had turned to the cupboards, where he was searching for any elusive piece of food.

"What have you found?"

"This." Peter held up a dog bowl. There were some scraps of meat in it, and there were several strands of some sort of fur stuck on the outside.

Before they realized what was happening Mulder had grabbed the bowl and had run out of the pad as fast as his lanky legs would go.

"Well, there he goes." Peter.

"Think she'll go for it?" David.

"Probably not." Micky.

"What do you think they'll say when they find out that we borrowed the fur from the dog down the road?" Peter asked. "They won't be too happy."

"Well, that's the way it goes. They'll know better in the future not to mess with the Monkees," David replied.

 

Peter was right. The next day a raging Mulder appeared at their door.

"This is dog hair," he roared.

Peter shrugged. "So?"

"Where did it come from?" he barked.

"From the dog up the road," was Micky's matter-of-fact answer.

"But…"

"But nothing. You never asked whether it was from the werewolf or not. The dog comes here several times a week as well. Next time get your facts straight," Peter advised the bemused agent. "And get a haircut."

"?…"

"Trust me mate, you need it," David. "If you don't you'll end up in a little padded room. (Spot the connection!) That wig will give you a right headache before you know it."

Now Mulder was really confused. He didn't know what to think now. What had he gotten himself into?

 

Right, that's part two. It's a bit long, but I wanted to keep the story going. Don't know when part three will be up, so keep an eye out!

 

Part 1/Storybook/Part 3