As usual the pad was in an uproar. Various piles of clothing and other objects lay here and there, an obvious sign that hurricane George Michael Dolenz was blowing. David was attempting vainly to control the damage, but, like the dratted coke machine, the piles just kept coming back. Peter had managed to find a quiet corner and was gently playing his bass, bringing an air of calm to the chaos. Mike had wisely given the place a wide berth and had found a spot on the beach to ‘find’ himself.

Meanwhile, hurricane Micky was finally showing signs of ceasing, much to David’s relief. It came to a sharp halt in front of the TV, and David somehow managed to make the pad appear clean.

In the middle of all this there came a knock at the door. The whole neighborhood held its collective breath. Who’d be brave enough to visit no. 1334? (Or more to the point, stupid enough, but you’ll see what I mean!)

It was the new neighbors who’d done it. Two days on the block and they were concerned about the strange noises coming from no. 1334. So, they had done what any other citizen would do. (Or so they thought. You know what our lads are like, and so does the rest of the neighborhood!)

They had called the police.

…Who had taken one look at the address and had referred the matter to the F.B.I. (The police aren’t stupid either!), who gave it to the only two people who would even look at the case (I know this is becoming very transparent now, but please bear with me. The story’s not THAT bad), Agents Mulder and Scully.

Inside, our heroes froze. Nobody ever disturbed them when Micky was on one of his rampages. They knew better than that.

"Who in the world could that be?" David asked. He went over to the front door and ‘peeped’ out. (Okay, I know what you’re thinking, but you’ve seen him do it on the show, so no nitpicking!) "Bad."

"What’s bad?" Micky demanded.

"Um, Mick, you remember those nice people from the F.B.I. who were here last month? You know, the ones investigating the missing cat? The owners thought it’d been abducted by aliens," David replied.

Micky and Peter sniggered. "Yes."

"Seems they’re back."

"Why?" Peter wondered.

David thought for a second then shot a look at a very innocent-looking Micky. "Were you doing your werewolf imitations again?"

Micky smirked proudly. "Yeah. Good ones they were too. I was especially proud of…"

"Micky! Don’t you see… they’re here about that."

"You know what would be fun?" Micky’s mind, however, was elsewhere. "If we could actually make them believe there was a real werewolf!"

All logic flew out the window as the three partners in crime decided to try the idea out.

"Wait, guys, what about the pink dragon?" Peter said in the midst of the scheming.

"Nah, don’t worry about him," Micky said matter-of-factly. "He wouldn’t hurt a fly. And, besides, do you really think they’re going to believe in him?"

Outside the agents had no idea what was going on inside. (I mean, would you? Come on people, look who we’re talking about here!) Scully was doing her utmost to keep herself from strangling her partner. This was the second time in as many weeks they had been called back to the area, and she wasn’t pleased. The thing about the cat had not been pleasant at all, and she got the feeling that they were a joke. This was not what the bureau had been created for. It had been created to clamp down on crime, not chase after silly fantasy stories.

Mulder, however, was in his element. This was the sort of thing he craved, something out of the ordinary, something different, a chance to actually catch a werewolf. He tried to smooth the slight upturn of his mouth (Anyone actually ever see him crack a smile?!!!) that indicated that he was pleased (how can you really tell this either?!!!), as the door opened to reveal three very innocent-looking youths…