Ok, fellas, ready to see an intergalactic cab company?

Mike: Sure, as long as I can wash this pink goop off.

Micky: You better believe it! :D

Davy: I'm ready!

Peter: I am, too.

(Cut to the front of a rather dilapadated-looking building. It's still Art Deco, but the metal trim here is grimy and tarnished, and the walls are a bit cracked. In fact, it looks like an elaborate version of an old fire station.)

Rocco: (To the four pink Monkees now plastered to the front window) We're 'ere. Everyone out.

Davy: Anybody got a spatula?

(Four very pink and very dizzy Monkees wobble out of the cab. Peter runs for the nearest bathroom, pushing past a huge purple bird-like creature with green tufts of feathers and four arms.)

Micky: Heads up, Pete's comin' through! ;)

Purple Creature: (Brooklyn accent) Hey, Roc, what was that?

Rocco: Eh, just me clients. They're new in town and needed a place to stay and get washed up.

Mike: Yeah, we don't usually come to a place lookin' like neon signs.

Micky: This isn't our normal coloring. ;)

Purple Creature: Nice ta meecha all. (Shakes their hands...all at once) I'm Iggy. I drive the Purple Floater Cab on the noon shift.

Rocco: Yeah, he's the only one with enough arms to drive a cah with four steerin' wheels.

Davy: Groovy, mate. ;)

Iggy: I brought it with from my planet, Rizzo. It's my pride and joy. ;)

(A woman walks in...well, she sort of looks human, except for larger biceps than any human woman and a third eye in the middle of her head. She's smoking a very strange looking cigarette and has soft, tufty earmuff-things over her head.)

Woman: Damn it, they just let off the harmonic destructors in the Manago district. I had to pay a fortune for these things just 'ta finish my route. We cyclas have very sensitive hearing. (Nods at the boys) What's with the weirdos, Rocco? I thought you said you weren't bringin' home any more off-planet aliens. You know the Squadrons have been trackin' down any unauthorized intruders. That damn Grand Imperial Nutcase probably found a hair in his soup and got pissed.

Rocco: (Indicates the woman) Er, fellas, this is Marlena, of the planet Psyche.

Marlena: Charmed. Are you always that pink? You're killing my eyes.

Mike: No, usually we're more an orange color.

Micky: A much more muted tone of color. :P

Mike: What's with the third eye?

Marlena: Night vision. I have the night shift. :p

Davy: Makes sense. ;)

Rocco: You'll meet the rest of 'em as they pass through. Come on. I'll take you upstahs to my flat while we get all of ya cleaned up. You can't stay pink like that for the rest of ye lives.

Micky: Good. I think it's starting to seep into my skin. :P

Davy: It's an improvement, mate. ;)

Rocco: I see nothin' wrong wit' bein' a good, bright color. (Indicates his own blue skin) ;)

Mike: (As he separates Davy and Micky) Yeah, well, it's a liability where we come from, Roc.

(They go upstairs, followed by a shaky Peter. Cut to a small, one-room apartment. There's buttons here, too, but it's not nearly as sleek as Emilio's quarters. The paint is peeling, the walls are cracked, and the furnishings are definately seventh-hand Art Deco. A now normal-colored Mike, Micky, and Davy sit around a small table in the middle of the room as Rocco serves them tea. The guys all wear ratty robes and ill-fitting pajamas.)

Rocco: Sorry we couldn't get ya any clothes, fellas. I sent Iggy and Juniper out to buy ya some clothes that might fit and allow you to blend in a little better.

(As he pours the tea, we hear the same nasty, high noise that blasted earlier, only far more muffled, thanks to being indoors. The guys still wince, and the teapots, appliances, and furniture rattle.)

Micky: Glad we were inside for that one. :P ;)

Mike: Yeah. I think my hearin' still funny from the LAST one. :p

Rocco: They're gettin' worse. Nevah used to bothah wit' this part of town.

Mike: Hey, Roc, what planet are you from?

Rocco: (Grins) This one. I'm a native Zlotnickian.

Micky: Groovy, Rocco!

Mike: There don't seem to be too many of you left.

Rocco: (shrugs) 'Ard to tell the natives from the visitahs these days. I guess we're a dyin' breed.

Mike: What planet is that Grand Imperial What's-his-face from?

Rocco: (Sits down with the guys and his cup of tea) Now, that's a good question. No one knows. Only 'is really top men, like Oma'eaddon, 'ave evah seen the Grand Imperial Leadah. Us plain folk don't know what 'e looks like or sounds like.

Mike: What are the harmonic destructors, and why are they makin' use of them?

Rocco: I actually 'ave a 'armonic destructah right 'ere. Juniper brought it in one day. 'E was gonna fix it up n' sell it on the black market, but 'e couldn't figah out 'ow to restring the damn thing, so it just sits 'ere.

Micky: Really?

(He brings out what looks like a stringless guitar covered with tarnished glitter and metal.)

Mike: (Eyes widen) Oh man, um, Rocco, I hate to break the news, but that...on our planet, they call that a guitar.

Rocco: A what now?

Davy: It's a guitar. We play music with it.

Rocco: (Shakes his head) Nevah 'eard of them. We got a musician 'ere, 'Andel. 'E plays the synthecordian. 'E's in great demand in the Undahworld, 'cause that's the only place you can play music nowadways wit'out it gettin' destroyed. :p

(Peter comes out in a ratty robe about five sizes two big, rubbing his damp head with a towel. He grins at the sight of the harmonic destructor.)

Peter: Awesome! That's a cool-looking guitar, Rocco!

Mike: Ain't a guitar, Pete. This is what's causin' all the trouble on this planet.

Peter: A guitar is causing trouble?

Mike: On this planet, guitars are makin' those nasty noises we heard when we arrived and messin' with people's heads.

Peter: Oh, man, a guitar can do that? :o

Micky: Apparently. :P

Rocco: (Fingers the "destructor") You know, some of us are pretty good with mechanics n' stuff. I wondah if we could get it movin'?

Mike: (Looks at Mick) Maybe we could reverse it somehow.

Rocco: What do ya mean?

Micky: *nods* It's a definite possibility.

Peter: You mean, make it so it creates good music waves instead of bad?

Mike: Yeah.

Davy: Couldn't 'urt.

Rocco: I'd 'ave to ask the othahs. Juniper loves playin' around with this stuff, and Ig and Marlena may want a go at it, too.

(At this point, the door to the flat opens. Iggy appears, carrying three shopping bags. Another creature carries a fourth...well, sort of. It's looks like an ornamental fir tree in a pot with an eye that used to be a small football. Though we hear it's "voice," it has no mouth.)

Iggy: Yo, fellas, sorry to break up the party, but we brought you stuff to wear.

Juniper: We have brought clothes. They are not the best clothes, but they can be worn by upright mammal species.

Micky: Thanks!

Rocco: (Nods) Fellas, this is Juniper, of the Planet Flora in the Decidious System.

Mike: We've already met a member of his species. ;)

Juniper: My species frequently travels to many planets. We are a very curious species and have studied other planets for thousands of years.

Peter: Did you know a Frodis?

Juniper: He was sent to Earth to seek out new possible colonies for our people. Unfortuantly, though he admitted some of the citizens were friendly, he said he encountered many problems and did not think it would be wise for us to do further study on Earth.

Micky: Figures. :P

Iggy: You're from Earth? Hey, we've never had Earthlings here! I didn't think they'd gotten past their own system. Heard they were having problems with keeping the peace on their own planet, and that their technology was practically primative. :p

Davy: Something like that, mate. :P ;)

Juniper: (Lays a branch on the destructor) I am skilled in high levels of technology. On my planet, I built musical instruments for our muscians during the night under the lights while driving a cab during the natural daylight hours.

Iggy: You know what I wanna know?

Rocco: How to get all four of your arms on Marlena at once without her knockin' you to the othah side of Zlotnick? ;)

*Micky and Davy grin.* ;)

Iggy: You're funny, Roc. (Sighs) I wanna know what that Grand Imperial Twit looks like, where he came from, and how we can make him die a slow, lingering death. He's killin' the tourist trade...and thus, killin' our business.

Rocco: And 'e's killin' the eahs of the more sensitive among us. :p

Iggy: I know he wants to do something crazy, like in those James Bond flickers they beam from Earth, but no one has any idea of what that IS.

Mike: Sounds like a mind control plot, tryin' to make people think what he wants by controllin' the music.

Micky: Either that, or he wants everyone to go deaf.

Rocco: Could be, but there's about fifteen million or more different kinds of minds on Zlotnick. Remembah, this is still a fairly popular tourist spot. It would be 'ard to know 'ow to control fifteen million different kinds of minds.

Mike: Tourist spot...

Juniper: It may be a distraction. He may be trying to keep people from noticing his real plans by distorting the planet's sound waves.

Peter: But what would his real plans be?

Micky: To confuse everyone? ;) :P

Mike: Guys, why is this planet a tourist spot?

Rocco: (Shrugs) It's in a good location. It's kind of in the middle of everythin'. Galatic travelers use this as a rest stop and jumpin' off point.

Mike: I'm thinkin' he's tryin' to drive everyone off the planet.

Iggy: Good luck getting fifteen million tourists off the planet! :p

Rocco: Yeah, but why?

Mike: Now that, I couldn't tell ya. Maybe he just feels like gettin' everyone off the planet.

Rocco: Why would anyone want to be on this planet all alone?

Peter: Well, you said this planet is very populated, right?

Rocco: Overly so, to be honest. Tourists have been staying on in increasing numbahs ovah the last ‘undred yeahs or so, since the Bionic Jetlander Wars.

Iggy: Great for business, bad for living conditions.

Mike: We've got to get back to the Grand Imperial Plaza. They still have our friend Emilio there.

Rocco: (Grins) Well, you can count on the Sunshine Cab Service, mate.

Iggy: Yeah, it'll be fun to go out there and risk our lives.

Micky: *grins* That's what we like to hear! ;)

Juniper: At times like this, I am proud to be Floral. I will lend my knowledge of aeromobiles, music instruments, and technology to our team.

Mike: (Stands) Ok, cabbies. Here's the plan. We're gonna need all the drivers you can spare, includin' Marlena. She looks like she could lift a ten-ton hydrolic truck without breakin' a sweat.

Iggy: Are you kiddin'? That's what she bench-presses in a week!

Mike: Now, here's the plan...(he starts to lean over when the robe he's wearing slips open, briefly revealing his polka-dot boxers - he closes it, blushing)...but maybe we'd better get dressed first.

(Everyone in the room snickers; Peter turns red.)

Mike: Um, where are those bags again?

Iggy: (Tries to cover his guffaws) Over by the door.

Micky: Good! ;)

Mike: Thanks. (He starts to the door, but trips over the too-long robe, sprawling on the floor and revealing his boxers and a pair of slightly greyish socks. He grabs the nearest bag and runs into the bathroom.)

Iggy: (As the door closes) Ok, I think it's safe to let it all out now. ;)

(Everyone bursts into laughter at once, even Juniper, as we fade out.)