A Teletubby X File *PG13* 1/1
Deslea R. Judd
DISCLAIMER: This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him,
Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions; and the Teletubbies, a
creation of Ragdoll Productions (UK) and BBC. Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa
and Po remain the intellectual property of the latter parties and other
characters remain the property of the former parties. They are used
without their consent and without commercial gain.
ARCHIVE: Yes, just keep my name and headers.
SPOILERS/TIMEFRAME: None except for my son's television viewing habits.
CATEGORY: Humour, XF/Teletubbies Crossover.
RATING: PG13 for mild language.
SUMMARY: The Teletubbies call Mulder for help finding their favourite things. Mulder, thinking them strange alien creatures, drags Scully off to Teletubbyland to investigate. And what do Miss Omnipotent Writer, Tea Leoni, Samantha Fox, Toyah Wilcox and the MI5 have to do with it all? MORE FIC: http://fiction.deslea.com
FEEDBACK: Love the stuff. email@example.com
AWARDS/ELIGIBILITY: Nominee, Outstanding Humour Story, 1998 Spooky Awards. Fic Of The Week, Primal Scream, late 2000. Finalist, Crossover Cover Art, 2000 F.O.X. Awards. Recommended, Laura Burchard's Recommendations, Beaker's Reading Corner, and When Worlds Collide.
One day in Teletubbyland, the Teletubbies were playing with their favourite things. Tinky Winky had his nice red bag, Dipsy had his black and white hat, Laa-Laa had her beautiful big orange ball, and Po had her scooter.
But one by one, the Teletubbies' favourite things began to disappear. They looked //everywhere//, but their favourite things could not be found.
"Where bag?" Tinky Winky asked.
"Where hat?" Dipsy asked.
"Where ball?" Laa-Laa asked.
(At this point, the narrator's 20-month-old chimed in, "Ball!" and pointed at the ball madly, but that's neither here nor there).
"Where cooter?" Po asked, for she could not say 'scooter'.
"Uh-oh!" the Teletubbies cried together.
(At this point, the narrator's 20-month-old chimed in, 'Uh-oh!' at a very high pitch).
"Never mind," Po said. "Big hug!"
The Teletubbies hugged one another.
(The narrator hugged her 20-month-old, mainly because that's the only way she could think of to animate the phrase "hugged one another").
Teletubbies love each other very much.
(The narrator, who had just spent $15 on a Po stuffed toy for her 20-month-old traitor to commercialism, said, "Pah!" under her breath).
Just the same, when the nice narrator didn't kick in with a quick easy solution, the Teletubbies got worried. Love's all very well, but you can't ride it. At least not on a children's show. And you can't throw it. At least not without a restraining order. I suppose you can wear or carry it with enough determination, but well, it just isn't the same. And when you're a boy who's into hats and bags, well, you have to get as much mileage out of your preschool years as possible before big people start telling you only girls can do that, making you resort to hiding in the closet with your nice clothes and accessories.
But then, Po had an idea. She picked up the Teletubbyphone and called an American number. There was only one person who could help them now.
"Eh-oh, Mu-dher. Me Po."
"You're Po, you say?" Mulder asked, instantly on the alert. That voice wasn't human.
"Me Po. Where cooter?"
//Hmm,// Mulder thought. //Me...where...the creature has some English, then.//
"You're looking for your cooter, Po?"
The creature's voice became plaintive. "Where cooter?" she asked mournfully.
"You want me to come help you find your cooter, Po?"
"There!" Po said with great satisfaction.
"There? You've found your cooter?" Mulder asked in confusion.
"Where cooter?" she asked again plaintively.
"Does 'there' mean you //want// me to come and help?" he asked desperately.
"There!" Po said again vigorously.
"I'll be right there," Mulder said firmly, and hung up.
In Teletubbyland, Po looked at the telephone in confusion. Normally people made her say "Bye!" four or five times and laughed when she kept popping up. Po started to cry.
The narrator sighed and said, "Time for Po to go to bed."
Po brightened. "Bye!" she cried, waving madly, and popped behind the phone. The narrator waited.
Po popped up again. The narrator pretended to laugh. "No," she chastised gently. "Time for Po to go to bed."
Po waved again. "Bye!" she cried, and popped behind the phone.
Po popped up again, but the narrator ignored her.
Meanwhile, in Washington, Mulder slapped down a plane ticket in front of Scully. "Come on, Scully; we're going to Britain."
"Phoebe got an itch she wants scratched?" she asked, bored. She'd have filed her nails, but, well, it just doesn't do for an Agent to look like a secretary. Besides, formaldehyde played havoc with polish anyway. Blasted autopsies.
Mulder gave her a baleful glare. "I just received a mysterious telephone call. I traced it to an unmapped region called Teletubbyland. A strange alien creature was asking for help in locating its cooter."
Resisting the temptation to ask either (a) how he knew where the region was, or that it existed, or its name, if it was unmapped, (b) how he knew the creature was alien, or (c) why on earth he kept following up on these mysterious phone calls which always meant a tiresome mytharc episode or three, she demanded, "What the hell's a cooter?" Scully said 'hell' quite a bit to try and kill her prim and proper image, but she usually sounded more like someone who's just discovered the word and is trying it out. (In that sense, she had quite a bit in common with the Teletubbies, an insight she wouldn't have thanked the narrator for, who wisely kept it to herself).
"How the hell do I know?" Mulder demanded. Mulder said 'hell' a lot, too, so that Scully wouldn't look tougher than him; but considering this is a man who has been overpowered by every criminal on the East Coast, including a man whose battlecry was 'You're a damn good-looking man', he didn't have much success. (In that sense, he had quite a bit in common with Matthew on Newsradio, an insight he wouldn't have thanked the narrator for, who wisely kept it to herself while congratulating herself on her tact).
Scully took a glance over the narrator's shoulder. "Hey, take a look at what this broad's writing about us! Gimme that, Miss Omnipotent Writer. FILING MY NAILS? I have a million-dollar contract, and you think I do my own nails?"
"That's Gillian, not Scully," the narrator corrected helpfully. "And they're acrylic infills, not nails," she added, tact forgotten.
"That's IT!" Scully screeched. She stood back in a generic martial-arts pose, and the narrator belatedly remembered that Gillian Anderson did her own stunts. Which meant this was gonna HURT.
She wrote hurriedly.
The heroine stood there against the light, her burnished hair like copper set aflame. She looked like a Greek goddess, warlike, exquisite.
Scully stopped, a sweet little smile on her face. "Really?" she asked, her cheeks a pretty pink.
Encouraged, the narrator kept writing.
Succumbing to her allure was so tempting...to kiss those full, red lips; to gaze deep into those azure eyes; to suck on those sweetly swelling-"
Scully spoke. "Uh...there's no need to overdo it."
"To move lower, to descend into the valley of the goddess-"
Scully gulped. "Don't go there, honey. That kinda action ain't in my contract."
The narrator shrugged. "Have it your way. Weren't you asking Mulder what a cooter was?"
Scully turned to Mulder. "Yeah, what //is// a cooter?" (The narrator was starting to realise how Ed Jerse talked her into getting a tattoo so easily). "I heard that," Scully hissed.
"Don't ask me," Mulder shrugged. "Come on, we'll miss our flight."
"No, we won't," Scully said confidently. She arched an eyebrow at the narrator in challenge.
"Uh...uh, no, you won't. Bon voyage!"
The narrator returned to Teletubbyland with relief.
One day in Teletubbyland, the Teletubbies were waiting for Mulder and Scully to arrive. Tinky Winky was making Tubby Toast, Laa-Laa was tidying up, and Dipsy was looking out for their arrivals.
"Where Po?" Tinky Winky asked.
"Where Po?" Laa-Laa asked.
"Where Po?" Dipsy asked.
Behind them, Po walked in. "Eh-oh, Tinky Winky! Eh-oh, Dipsy! Eh-oh, Laa-Laa!"
Tinky Winky, Dipsy and Laa-Laa turned around. "There Po!" they cried in unision. (The narrator wondered briefly if she should use the word 'unision' on a children's television show, but she figured if they could cope with 'Tinky Winky' they could cope with anything). They ran over and hugged Po. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love each other very much.
("Pah!" the narrator said. Teletubbies can't read, and her 20-month-old was asleep, so she could say what she liked).
"Where Po?" Dipsy asked Po.
Po had a vocabulary of perhaps twenty words, but she was able to convey with a variety of hand signals and sounds that she had been telling the rabbits in Teletubbyland not to panic if they heard the word 'Fox' in conversation.
"Oooooh!" said the Teletubbies. "Clever Po!"
(The narrator started to say something nasty, but thought better of it. She supposed a fabric-covered two year old who could dial America //was// pretty clever. She wondered with a chill whether //her// son could do that, and ran off to call the phone company).
Po spoke. "Oh, thank God she's gone. Now, how the hell are we gonna tell those FBI agents what's happening without her knowing?"
Dipsy frowned. "We could set up a Scooby-Doo ending, where we corner her and make her confess."
Laa-Laa shook her head. "Nah, that idiot Mulder would go and confront her straight off. Isn't that what he always does with the bad guys? I mean didn't anyone ever teach him about not blowing his cover? Subtlety? Keeping hold of his gun?"
Tinky Winky chimed in, "Not mixing brown with green? I mean, have you seen that guy's //ties//?" They turned to look at him, and he gave an embarrassed shrug. "Well?"
"Well, considering you're purple with a triangle on your head and a red handbag, I don't see that //you// have room to talk," Po pointed out. "Shut up, you lot, she's coming back!"
Tinky Winky bitched back, "This is all //your// fault! If you'd only dropped out of sight at the end of the eighties-"
Po hissed, "Shut up!"
The narrator settled down at her desk again to write. The Teletubbies were huddled together. She frowned, and cleared her throat.
Po jumped. "Big hug!" she said, too enthusiastically. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love each other very much.
The narrator groaned. "Yeah, all right, all right, knock it off. We have a case to solve. Where are all your favourite things?"
"Where cooter?" Po asked, obediently.
"Where hat?" asked Dipsy plaintively.
"Where ball?" Laa-Laa asked, doing a little spin and staring skywards, as though it might fall into her arms.
"Where bag?" Tinky Winky whined.
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door.
Five minutes earlier, Mulder and Scully had walked into Teletubbyland.
"Something's wrong," Mulder said in a deadly whisper. "It's quiet - too quiet. I think it's a setup."
Scully rolled her eyes. "It's a peaceful clearing in the woods, Mulder."
"It's too peaceful and the sun is too bright. The air is too clean. It's as though it's been - sanitised."
Scully produced her sunglasses. They were gray-tinted and lightly frosted - she had had them made especially for Mulder. "Try these - you'll feel better."
Mulder put them on, and a comforting gloomy haze descended. Everything was dark and spooky. "You're right, Scully. I don't know what I was thinking." Scully wondered fleetingly whether Mulder himself was a vampire. He certainly couldn't cope with light, after all...and she didn't know where he slept, either. Could there be a coffin in his garage?
Dismissing these thoughts, she pointed to a low, wide hill. "Mulder, look!"
There was a strange, welded door built into the hill. Mulder ran towards it excitedly. "Look, Scully! It's an alien craft covered with grass!"
Scully groaned. "Whatever you say, Mulder." She followed him, ready to rescue him from whatever scrape lay ahead of them. She drew her gun.
The narrator intervened. "It's a G rated show!" she hissed. "Even if there's an alien in there, they won't be able to hurt you and get it past the censors! Put it away!"
Scully looked at Miss Omnipotent Writer mutinously, but complied.
Mulder knocked on the door. "Open up! Federal Agents!"
"Not in this jurisdiction," Scully said mildly.
Po opened the door. "Eh-oh, Mud-her! Me Po!" She threw her arms around him. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love sex symbols very much.
Laa-Laa stepped forward. "Eh-oh, Scu-ey! Me Laa-Laa!" She threw her arms around her. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love Greek goddesses very much.
Scully gave the narrator a dirty look.
Dipsy stepped forward. "Eh-oh, Mud-her! Me Dipsy!" He threw his arms around him. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love Tea Leoni very much, and this is the closest they can come to touching her.
Mulder and Tea gave the narrator a dirty look.
Tinky Winky stepped forward. "Eh-oh, Scu-ey! Me Tinky Winky!" He threw his arms around her. "Big hug!"
Teletubbies love midgets very much.
Scully bared her teeth at the narrator.
The narrator was enjoying this immensely.
The Teletubbies bustled off, preparing Tubby Toast for their guests. Privately, the agents conferred.
"I couldn't see any zippers on those creatures, Scully," Mulder said quietly. Scully had just suggested they might be costumed humans.
"Mulder, their so-called skins are made with commercially available synthetic fabrics! Their eyes appear to be of solid plastic and their noses have no obvious nasal membranes. Quite apart from the fact that they claim to be male and female but have no apparent sexual organs."
Mulder had a sudden image of how a Teletubby might have sex and shuddered.
"G-rated show," the narrator reminded them.
"Well, Mulder," Scully continued, "this is not our jurisdiction. It seems to me that we should help them find their belongings as they've asked, and refer the rest of your speculations to the MI5 for further investigation."
Mulder shook his head. "Scully, I think this case is a ruse. I think they //want// to be investigated, or that someone wants us to investigate them - someone with control over this whole thing."
The narrator shook her head. "'Fraid not, sweeties. I'm as in the dark as you. It was Po's idea to call you. You'll need to ask her. Personally, I think it's as simple as she says - they want their things back."
Mulder thought quickly. "I know. We'll set up an ambush and see what's under that head of hers."
The narrator protested, "No - you can't do that - there are children who love these characters! You can't unmask them! It's-"
Po walked in.
Mulder lunged at her, sending her flying against the wall.
Po said a word that you're not supposed to say on a G-rated show.
Scully pulled off her head. It came with a soft, hollow 'pop!'
(The narrator clarified here that Scully pulled off //Po's// head, not her own head).
"I'll pull //your// head off in a minute, sweetie," Scully muttered. She turned to look at the woman whose head was sticking out of Po's body. She gasped with realisation.
She and Mulder said the same, horrified word:
Toyah Wilcox, that eighties pop sensation, nodded sheepishly. "Yup," she said, "it's true."
"Toyah Wilcox?" Mulder demanded. "Big orange hair, crap clothes?"
"G-rated show!" the narrator reminded. Scully gave her the finger.
Toyah gave an embarrassed look. "Everyone had big hair and crap clothes in the eighties, Mulder. I saw Christmas Carol. Your Greek goddess here looked like a geek. And as for you in Unusual Suspects-"
"Knock it off," Scully snapped. "What's going on?"
Toyah sighed. "These are part of my entourage. Laa-Laa is my sister, Sally. Dipsy is her husband, Roy. Tinky Winky is my manager, Donnie. When the eighties were over, we were doing okay. We had some cash stashed, and we still did gigs at bars and clubs. It was fun. Our career was going down, but we did cover versions at our gigs and we were still popular. And we had a better reputation than Samantha Fox, of course."
"Goes without saying," Scully snorted.
"Then why did you have to say it?" Mulder asked, wounded. He liked Samantha Fox.
Tea gave him a dirty look.
Samantha Fox gave Tea and Toyah a dirty look.
The narrator chucked both of them out. She wasn't going to pay them Equity rates for a day on set as an extra!
Tea contacted her manager to discuss setting up a new comedy show, Tea and Toyah. Who cared if Miss Big Hair Crap Clothes had talent? The name would sell it, no problem.
Toyah continued. "Things were going swell. But then Miss Omnipotent Writer here came along." A tear fell down her cheek. "She said - she said people like us were the scourge of the late twentieth century. She said we were the people responsible for six earrings in one lobe, and shoulder pads, and racoon makeup, and blue hair, and frilled men's dress shirts. I tried to explain about the seventies, and how we weren't raised to know any better, but she just - she wouldn't listen-" she broke down, weeping.
The narrator stood up. "Oh, yeah, make me out to be the bad guy because I made you atone by providing a wholesome influence to a new generation. Right. I come along and you four are still polluting the world with your eighties crap in 1996! You people are //evil//, do you hear? Your civilisation could be so much more-"
Mulder interrupted. "What did you say?" he asked cautiously. His hand was on his gun.
The narrator fled.
Scully turned to Toyah and her friends, each of whom had taken off their heads. "Did you build this house, or this - thing?" She pointed to a robot at their feet who was a cross between a dog and a vacuum cleaner.
Sally shook her head. "No, they were here when she brought us here."
Mulder ran outside. There were lights overhead. He came back in.
"Run!" he shouted. "Get out, NOW!"
Scully, showing incredible lack of sense, asked, "Mulder, what- why-"
"It's an alien craft, and the mother ship is here to take it home! Get out, all of you!"
Toyah and Co. fled, and Scully did the same - mostly to get away from Robo-dog.
And then the whole place exploded.
"Don't you see?" Mulder asked impatiently. "Miss Omnipotent Writer was really an alien being, sent to research the extent and limits of human potential on earth. When we caught her out, she blew up the evidence and left on the mothership."
Scully sighed. "Mulder, don't you think it's more likely that she drove away after setting the explosion and that the lights overhead were MI5 helicopters, alerted by Customs to our presence, wondering what we're doing in their jurisdiction?"
"There's still one thing I don't understand," Mulder said, ignoring her. Logic was all very well, but you can have too much of a good thing. Scully could be such a drag sometimes.
"'One' thing?" Scully echoed. She waited for a nasty retort, then remembered the narrator was gone.
"Where //were// all your favourite things?"
Donnie spoke. "We burnt them." He shrugged. "Red was never my colour."
Sally added, "And I was going to get a hernia bouncing that damn ball."
Roy rejoined, "And that hat was more Sally's style than mine." They looked at Toyah expectantly.
"Actually, I kinda liked that scooter. But they made me burn it."
Scully frowned. "But why?"
"So we could call you in, of course."
"What will you do?" she asked.
Toyah shrugged. "Actually, I'm starting to like this stuff. I'm going to keep on being a Teletubby - but this time, for the right reasons."
Donnie threw his arms around her. "Big hug!" he cried.
Teletubbies love each other very much.
Mulder and Scully said, "Pah!"
Mulder threw a friendly arm around Scully's shoulder. "You know, Scully, maybe there is benevolent life on other planets."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He grinned. "Any lifeform that turns an eighties pop star into a children's icon can't be all bad."
Scully laughed and put her arms around him. "Big hug!"
Mulder crinkled his nose. "Pah!"
Special Agents love each other very much.
And that's the end of the story.