First off we are not a royal we.

Disclaimer: We do not own Scooby Doo. If we did, the characters would learn the art of being witty.

If you take your Scooby Doo seriously... this might not be the best fic for you. This is our first, and probably last, Scooby fic.

Edit: So we were reading this to a friend, and we realized that there were several errors. We had been saying that we would fix them, full aware that "around to it" would probably never come. And then... Somebody asked to use this in a research paper. We thought it would be only polite to go ahead and fix the errors. Actually, we were just persevering our pride.


The Scooby Gang stood in the middle of a recently abandoned rubber chicken factory.

"Like, no way! We are, like, not going to be bait!" Shaggy declared.

"Rats right," Scooby affirmed, folding his paws.

"Come on. Scooby, Shaggy," Daphne almost begged.

"Like, no way." Shaggy turned arrogantly away from her. "Those zombie clowns are, like, zombie clowns. And they are, like, zombie things."

"Will you do it for a Scooby Snack?" Daphne shook a box in front of the cowardly pair.


Shaggy and Scooby were acting in their usual capacity as decoys. They lured the zombie clowns toward Fred's oversized fans. Everything was going according to plan. That was until the duo managed to find some roller skates, tumble fantastically over the glorified shoes, and, as usual, set the trap off themselves.

As their chicken friends flew threw the air, the rest the of the Scooby Gang began to worry that the 'zombie clowns' were going to escape. Fortunately, Shaggy and Scooby somehow managed to land with style. The gangly man and man's supposedly best friend landed with devastating force on top of the bad guys. Amazingly, no one broke their necks.

In moments the 'zombie clowns' had been tied up. Their heads lolled about listlessly. Velma remained silent as her friends suggested each rude person they had met on their adventure.

"Now to unmask the zombie clowns," Velma declared. She yanked off the first mask.

"Winston Bubba! The factory's owner!" Everyone but Velma gasped. She pulled off the second mask. Everyone, but Velma, managed to find it in themselves to gasp in shock yet again.

"Joe Puddleman! The owner's best friend!"

"I first suspected Mr. Bubba and his friend Mr. Puddleman," Velma explained, "when I found some of their hair on Daphne after she escaped being kidnapped."

"Like, how did you know it was their hair?" Shaggy asked.

"Oh, I just conducted a little experiment."

"Wow, Velma, one day you're going to have to tell me how you find the time to conduct these experiments," Fred remarked in wonder.

"It's nothing." Velma continued, "Then I found Puddlemen's tie on the factory floor. But it all came clear when I found Bubba's business card at the costume store."

"But, Velma, we never went to the costume store," Daphne objected.

"Yes, we did," Velma insisted.

"Actually, Ms. Velma, your friend is right. You never went to that store." A strange man in a suit walked in. "Private detective, David Smart," he said in response to the wave of quizzical looks.

"You've been investigating this mystery too," Velma remarked.

"You could say that. I've been hired to find you punks," David Smart said silkily. "You've been very naughty indeed."

"You must have gotten us mixed up with some else, Detective Smart," Fred corrected.

"No, I don't think so. You're the Scooby Gang. Fred, Velma, Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby Doo." He said, indicating to each of them in turn.

"Yes, but why are we in trouble?" Daphne asked, perplexed.

"Lets see here... " Detective Smart said musingly. "The police are going to arrest you for about a hundred charges of property damage... assault... reckless endangerment... breaking and entering, and not to mention trespassing... Oh, and you're being investigated for possible theft."

"We haven't stolen anything," Daphne flared angrily.

"Mmm. Where did you get those fans and the oversized fly paper?"

"I-I keep that type of thing in the Mystery Van," Fred defended.

"In your empty Mystery Van?" Detective Smart noted smoothly. Before any of them could argue, he spoke again, "Never mind, that isn't what I'm here for." He opened a brief case, pulled out several files, and handed two to each member of the Scooby gang. "You've just been served. Actually, I'd say you're lucky only two people are suing after all the damage you've done."

"What is this?" Fred said incredulously. "Is this a joke?"

"I've told you what it is. Do I look like I'm laughing?" The private detective said blandly.

"Claims of loosing IQ points by our inability to shut up," Fred read off. "Almost never changing our clothes."

David Smart wrinkled his nose, "I can see what they mean."

"'Giving convoluted evidence that didn't exist until you made it up at the end of the episode,'" Velma read irritably. "My deductions are solid and logical!"

"Check this out. It, like, says 'gross abuse and misuse of the word like.' Like, what does that mean?" Shaggy asked blankly.

"I don't know," Daphne said in despair, "but they're telling me that makeup isn't as amazing as I portray it to be! And they're suing me for persistently running in high heels and then failing to try using the heels as a weapon to protect myself. It's none of their business! Whoever they are. How dare they suggest that I need to wear something else while mystery solving? I need to always look my best! That means wearing my favorite shoes." She folded her arms, closed her eyes, and pointed her nose to the sky.

"Listen to this," Fred said in wonder. "'For making ridiculously ostentatious traps that should never work. Using your friends as bait to support your ego. If you didn't use your friends as bait none of those traps would work. Ever.'" Fred shifted uncomfortably. "What does yours say Scooby?"

"'Rour ruseless, rand ra row ris ramed rafter rou,'" Scooby Doo read.

"You're not useless, Scooby," Velma said sympathetically. "Detective, these aren't valid. They aren't even in proper legal format."

"Not my problem. Take it up with the judge. But until then, I'd show up for court." Detective Smart said simply. Suddenly, they heard the sound of sirens. As the blue lights flickered through the window, Smart casually said, "Finally, the police are here."

"All I wanted was to find my special pen without worrying about one of my employees stealing it. But now, I'm off to jail," Winston Bubba spoke up. "And I would've gotten away with it too. If it weren't for you meddling kids!"

Detective David Smart arched his eyebrow. "Why would you be going to jail? The hospital maybe. Jail? No. As unfortunate as it might be, there is no law against being stupid. But then again, stupidity seems to be its own punishment."

Simultaneously, two cries broke the air.

"He kidnapped me!" Daphne's voice rang out.

"My pen! There it is!" Winston yelped in excitement.

"First, Daphne, under the law he is innocent until proven guilty." The private eye swooped down and picked up a rather ridiculous looking pen that had a small rubber chicken at the end of it. He rolled his eyes. "Second, Mr. Bubba, why did you make this type of a ruckus over a cheap pen?"

"It's my favorite pen! Squeeze the rubber chicken!" Winston bounced excitedly though still tied up.

The detective acquiesced. Confetti flew out of the rubber chicken's mouth. "Oh, boy," he sighed, "what is taking the police so long to enter the darn building!"


Please review :) But don't flame us about this being a cartoon. We are well aware. This is fanfiction. This is for fun.