Title: 'The Psychedelic Sklob'
Fandom: The Monkees/Doctor Who
Author: but_can_i_be_trusted
Rating: G
Challenge: #25: Fall Out Boy Song Titles ('The Music or the Misery') (crossposted to whatif_au)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None

Summary: "Just as I expected. It's a Sklob!"


Under normal circumstances, if there was a party to be had, it could be relied on that the Monkees were likely to be the life of it, with their enthusiasm and their music.

This evening, however...

"I don't understand it," Davy declared, staring out at the people who packed the discotheque. While it was a full house, it wasn't exactly a lively one. "What's the matter with everybody?"

He had ample cause for concern. The people who made up tonight's audience ought to have been up and dancing happily, enjoying themselves. But they slumped in their seats, listless, as though every ounce of joy had been drained from them. Their eyes looked dull, almost dead, as they drooped where they sat.

"Man, this has gotta be the worst gig we ever played," Mike agreed, confused.

Peter nodded worriedly. "I hope it's not something we're doing wrong."

"At least they're not in a bad mood," Davy muttered, though his eyes still nervously scanned the crowd. "I don't think we could handle that tension."

"I don't see any problem," Micky said with mild scorn. "They just need somebody to pep 'em up; that's all!"

He hopped out from behind the drum kit, and started bouncing around among the tables. Doing every good (and bad) imitation in his repertoire, he did his darnedest to give the audience their much-needed pepping-up. To his dismay, not a single eye lifted to watch him.

"Geez," he grumbled, going back to his drums. "They sure now how to hurt a guy."

"Hey, speaking of 'hurt'," Davy put in as they started to play the opening of 'Shades of Gray', "is it just me, or have we been playing a lot of ballads tonight?"

"Say, you're right!" Mike looked at the set list. Despite the fact that it was liberally sprinkled with more upbeat tunes, he couldn't remember playing a single one of them. "Why d'you suppose that is?"

"Maybe we need somebody to pep us up," Micky gamely theorized.

Peter nodded. "Right."

Despite that, the next several songs they played were of a slower nature, practically contributing to the subdued atmosphere. To their shared surprise, a young-looking man, in tweeds and a bow tie, tiptoed in. He seemed to carefully examine the audience members. Biting his lip, he nodded to himself.

"Hey, who's that," Micky wondered, frowning a smidge.

"Got me. Can we help you," Mike called to the newcomer.

Said newcomer bounded up to where the quartet played. "Hello, there," he grinned, trying to shake hands around their instruments. "I'm the Doctor. And something seems to have gone a bit wrong around here, hasn't it?" His eyes scanned the energy-drained people at their tables.

"You can say that again," Davy grumbled. "I don't know what's the matter. We usually entertain them better than this!"

"Well, I think..." The Doctor fumbled around, taking a slim device out of a coat pocket. "I think I might...just have the answer...aha!"

Kneeling, he plucked something out from behind Micky's drum kit. Straightening, he held it up, scanning it. The it that he held looked much like a cross between a Himalayan kitten and a squirrel. It nestled into the Doctor's hand, emitting a sound that was oddly like snoring.

"Bingo," the Doctor said with a nod. "Just as I expected. It's a Sklob!"

Micky winced in bewilderment. "A Sklob?! What's a Sklob?"

"That thing," Davy told him, pointing to the bizarre creature.

For his efforts, he received a sarcastic roll of the eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Well, that's good to know, at least. Too bad we don't know much else," Mike pointed out.

"There isn't really anything to worry about," the Doctor explained. "As a rule, Sklobs are actually fairly harmless. All they want to do, for the most part, is take lengthy naps. When they find a place they believe will be suitable, they exhale a mild sedative. Everything sentient in the vicinity falls asleep, until the Sklob is ready to wake up. No harm is done; everyone just feels well rested."

"What do we do with it now," Peter asked him. He reached out a tentative hand, petting the little creature.

"Well, I'm afraid it wouldn't be much fun as a pet. I'm going to take it back to its home planet--"

At that, Peter jerked his hand away. "Home planet," he anxiously echoed.

"Yes, that's right. Sklobs aren't native to Earth, after all. As I was saying, I'll take it back home, and that'll be that. Nice meeting you all," the Doctor added, darting for the door. "Thanks for your help!"

The door slammed shut behind him. In the same instant, everyone in the audience hopped out of their seats, dancing around to a decided lack of music.

"Wow," Davy breathed as he and the others hurriedly began 'I'm A Believer'. "Don't know what to make of that."

"He sure was an odd fellah," Mike concurred.

"At least we've got our audience back," Peter smiled.

"That was miserable stuff," Micky muttered, sotto voce, between lyrics. "Trying to play to a half-dead audience!"