1000 Curse Stag Beetles
Zidane Tribal paced nervously back and forth, a sense of sheer dread filling his heart. By this point, the Monkees should have been home at least an hour ago. Ever since he shacked up with the group, he got to know them very well. And it wasn't like them to be late. Of all the things to become gay over, Zidane thought. Why the heck would it be you guys? He continued pacing, adding Where could you guys be, to the list of thoughts.
As if fate had a sense of drama beyond Ruby's level, the phone rang, right when his sense of anxiety was at its peak. It was the police. The Monkees have been taken hostage by Glorious Belly Button, a super villain who had the city in a state of unending terror. Even Zidane couldn't put that obese freak down. With this news, Zidane fainted dead away, Like a fat kid on a Happy Meal.
When he came to, there was a bump on his pinky toe and his dread began mixing with a sort of grieving humor. "Goddamnit guys! Your music bewitched me and now you had to get kidnapped by someone I can't even stop," he cried out hilariously. "What is the Glorious Belly Button doing to you?" Probably torturing them, laughing silkily as he whipped them in the eyeballs. The sadist loved to blind his victims.
In the midst of all the terror and tears, Zidane remembered a story that Quina of all people had told him. If you folded the legs of 1,000 stag beetles, then whatever you wished, no matter how impossible it was, will come true.
Zidane, deciding that nothing smart or sane would be able to help, found and caught a whole bunch of beetles and set to work, folding their legs until his brain was sore and he could hardly see. It took a week. He was just finishing up the very last of the stag beetles when The Monkees walked in the front door, unharmed and safe.
"Oh thank goodness!" Zidane screamed and threw himself towards them, the action being so anime that the author would shortly commit Sudoku for writing this garbage. "It worked! I folded 1000 cursed stag beetles and it brought you back to me." He was so happy, he felt like he was dancing in Vegas. He tried to kiss the band instinctively, his terror at what might happen to them being so great that even his reluctance at admitting his feelings fell by the wayside.
"Yeah, about that," the frontman said, pulling away and a bit weirded out by their roomie's display, "The bunch of us was rescued by this babe called the Melodious Chicken. Brand spanking new superheroine, and she saved us all." At this point, the bassist sighed, about to drop the bomb on a person that he honestly thought was just being a good friend, rather than a neurotic that just so happened to be crushing on ALL OF THEM at once. "Sweet gal too."
A sense of dread, one that heralded, the end of one world, came back in force. "But you all are happy to be back here with me, right?"
The drummer at this point decided to check his watch, feeling that things were getting beyond awkward. "Yeah sure. But we actually scheduled a meeting with the Melodious Chicken for coffee. It's sort of a thank you for, you know, our lives."
Finally, the keyboard player jumped into the act, after frowning so hard it looked like an upside-down U. "Stay strange, bro." The group left in unison, and the door banged behind him.
Zidane choked back a sob and started folding another stag beetle. Then he went out and got drunk instead. And then he hanged himself.