The Slaughterhouse -- Where Warm Fuzzies Go To Die

Dear Constant Reader,

I am disturbed and not a little nauseated by the amount of warm fuzzies attributed to Mulder and I out there. We buy curtains. We snug puppies. We've even been known to cuddle and spoon.

I'm here to set the record straight. Mulder and I are dysfunctional and we like it that way. Here there are no safe words, no curtain shopping, no happy ever after. Here, if we own puppies, we eat them. There is no cuddle and spoon. So warning, Constant Reader. Here there be dragons. Expect pain and suffering twined with love and ecstasy, paths strewn with razors and broken glass, twisted trees and storm leaden skies. Don't worry. Take my hand and I'll lead you through and if you get hurt, you'll like it. I promise.

Alex

Disclaimer: This page is for those of consenting age only. All children back away from the monitor right this second. We mean it. We can see you, and we're telling Santa you've been naughty. Now shoo. That goes double for the squeamish and the the hopeless romantics. Ain't nuttin happy here. Go find more pastel shaded climes, where there are fluffy bunnies and happy Foxes and Alexes. This is not the place for you Don't say we didn't warn you. Fox, 1013, and company, we mean not to tread on your respective dicks. We do this not for profit, but for the sheer enjoyment of making others squirm. So bite us.