A/N: Just an insane idea I had which I have now translated into fan-fiction… read at thy own risk.

Animorphs Idol!

Location 1: The Hork-Bajir Valley

It was a pretty normal day in the valley. The sun was shining, birds were singing, seven-foot-tall bladed goblin monsters were eating the trees…

The only odd thing was that there was a large desk made of mahogany sitting smack-dab in the middle of the clearing where all the Hork-Bajir huts were. And seated at the desk were three young Indian teenage boys. And by Indian, we mean from India, the country, not Red Indians. Not that we think that there's anything wrong with Red Indians. It's just that it's really freaking annoying how you bloody Americans keep forgetting that there's more than one kind of Indian. I mean, jeez, Louise, ever seen a globe? India's that big triangle-shaped land mass sticking out of the south of Asia, ya know.

But the location of India and the typecasting nature of Americans was not the point.

The Indian boy seated in the middle was drumming the desk with his fingers. He sighed and turned to his two companions.

"Guys," he said slowly, "Would you please tell me why we chose the Hork-Bajir Valley as a location for contestant-scouting?"

The two companions looked up from the important tasks they were engaged in ─ namely, digging their noses and filing their fingernails. One of them was highly lean, thin and fair-skinned, the last trait being attributed to a fairness cream addiction.

It was the fairness cream addict ─ henceforth to be referred to as the Pink One, or Pinky for short ─ who said, "We didn't have the requisite finances to go anywhere else."

The leader ─ who was actually the omnipotent and super-awesome Anicrazy ─ glared at the Pink One. "Weren't you supposed to get us some good sponsors?"

"I tried," replied the Pink One, "but apparently none of the leading corporate businesses wanted to finance a parody of a real show set in a fictional universe. They didn't consider it a viable investment avenue.

"The narrow-mindedness of the modern-day capitalists astounds me," said the last member of the trio. He had abnormally spiky hair, as well as an extraordinarily loud voice. Some birds in the distance flew off in alarm.

Anicrazy looked wearily at his decibel-happy friend ─ henceforth to be known as Foghorn. "Keep it down, will you?"

Foghorn dropped the shoe he had been holding onto the floor.

Anicrazy sighed and turned his attention in the forward direction. They had erected a wooden sign in front of the desk, which read: Tryouts for Animorphs Idol today! Several Hork-Bajir adolescents were avidly tearing large chunks out of the said sign with their teeth.

Anicrazy groaned. "We're never going to get this show on the road."

Foghorn and the Pink One made noises of assent. At least, Foghorn did. The noises made by the Pink One may have been directed at shooing away a Hork-Bajir baby who was gnawing on the highly expensive mahogany table.

"Overgrown termites," he muttered.

Just then, Jara Hamee and Ket Halpak walked onto the scene. They stared at the mahogany desk and the three youths seated behind it.

"Are you here to try out for Animorphs Idol?" asked Anicrazy.

"Toby say, 'Father, see what stupid humans want,'" said Ket.

"'Stupid humans'," agreed Jara.

"We see," said Ket.

Anicrazy sighed. "We're trying people out for Animorphs Idol. It's a competition where the best music performer will win."

Jara scratched his head. "Music?"

"Yes," said Anicrazy. "Music, which is, um…" He snapped his fingers at his companions.

Pinky opened a bag and began rummaging around in it. After pushing aside twenty-two canisters of Uzbekistan's finest quality skin lightening lotions, he extracted an English-to-Hork-Bajir-talk dictionary and handed it to Anicrazy.

"Yes, music," said Anicrazy, flipping the pages of the dictionary. "Um, hrethcaratch."

Jara and Ket brightened up at that. "We try," they proclaimed.

The three wannabe judges looked warily at them. "Really?"

"We good music," Jara said proudly.

Jara and Ket prepared themselves, crouching slightly. After a few tense moments, they both leaped up into the air and began making music in the Hork-Bajir fashion ─ that is, they slashed at the air with their blades to create whistling sounds interspersed with howls, screeches and cat-calls.

No doubt there was a tune in there somewhere, but the human ear seemed unable to find it.

After five solid minutes of going berserk, Jara and Ket stopped their symphony and looked at the three judges for their words of appreciation. The three aforementioned judges were pale and were leaning as far back in their seats as they could get.

"That was… good… no doubt…" gasped Foghorn.

"But we're afraid you don't quite make the cut," said Anicrazy.

Jara and Ket appraised the judges with blank looks.

"What they mean to say is CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE THE WINNERS OF ANIMORPHS IDOL! Now go away!" shrieked the Pink One, somewhat hysterically.

Jara and Ket cheered. They grabbed the wooden sign and ran off, hooting.

Anicrazy sighed at the loss of the sign. "There goes thirty cents I'll never see again…"

The three downcast youths closed their eyes and slumped.

"Ahem. Excuse me. I'm here to try out for Animorphs Idol."

The trio's heads snapped up.

Their eyes were met with the sight of a very old and shrivelled man. He had white hair, a white beard, really white skin that was the envy of the Fairness Cream Addict and stick-thin limbs. He was also about five feet tall.

The trio stared at the strange newcomer. "Uh, yeah, sure. And who are you?"

"I'm the Ellimist."

There was a moment of silence.

Which was followed by another.

And another.

Foghorn nodded his head slowly. "Right….."

The old lunatic glared at Foghorn. "But I am! I am the Ellimist!"

The Pink One snorted. "Sure."

"I am!"

"Oh yeah, you are!" said Anicrazy. "Yeah, you're the Ellimist. I'm Crayak, he's the One and the Drode is hiding behind that tree!"

The psycho glared around at them at them all. "I. Am. The. Ellimist!"

"Okay, we believe you," laughed Foghorn. "So tell us, Ellie, how comes it that you've taken the shape of a weak old human today and are using an actual human voice instead of booming telepathy?"

The old man fidgeted. "I… woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Ah," said Foghorn.

"How's your skin so fair? What's your secret?" asked the Pink One.

Anicrazy whacked Pinky upside the head and turned to the freak. "Okay, Ellimist, why don't you try out for us now?"

The lunatic nodded. He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide.

"Every night I see you, I see you, I feel you…" he crooned. "That is how I know you, go on……"

The 'Ellimist' took a deep breath and continued. "Near… far… where-EVER ─" (hack, cough, wheeze, gasp) "wherever, you are… I believe that your heart will, go on…"

The Ellimist opened his eyes.

Anicrazy nodded slowly. "Wow, Ellimist. That was bad on SO many dimensions. Really."

"Yeah, it just goes to show, omnipotence doesn't make you Celine Dion!" chuckled the Pink One.

Foghorn turned to Pinky. "You actually knew the singer? I just remembered the song from Titanic."

Pinky suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "What I meant to say was, you suck, dude. Shoo."

The 'Ellimist' gave them all a death glare. He began muttering to himself as he shuffled away, saying he would have erased their existences if he hadn't gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.

"That was… definitely… weird," said Anicrazy.

"You don't say," said Pinky, slathering a pint of fairness cream on his face.

Anicrazy turned his gaze skyward. As he did, a very familiar figure flew into his line of vision.

Anicrazy grinned. "Maybe this place isn't all that bad after all." He waved at the flying figure. "Over here!"

A bird of prey, with brown feathers and a russet tail descended from the heavens. It swooped down to land on the mahogany desk.

[Hey, said Tobias. [Who the hell are you guys?

A/N: Cliffhanger! Sort of, anyway.

Tell me what you think? Is this good and should it be updated? Or am I nuts and should stop this immediately?