Title: Intervention of Elves (1/1)
Author: Lisby (lisby@earthlink.net)
Category: Vignette. MSR, post col, post show
Rating: R
Summary: Scully writes to Santa and uses lots of
swear words therein.
Disclaimer: No cash involved.
Archive: Freely
Feedback: Hell yes.
Dedication: For Marley and all the groovy folk of X-OK.Join us
at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/X-OK.
Written in all of two hours for the 2007 X-OK Fic Challenge.
Not exactly jingly or belly, but this is what happens when one
writes under the influence of 'American Girl Posse.'
*****
Dear Santa,
My therapist from the secret, last-best-hope-of-mankind,
underground institute is making me do this. I'm sitting my car,
smoking, as I comply. Yeah, Santa, I know that neither you, Dr.
Bingham, nor Mom likes me to smoke, and you, Bing, and Mom can
just go fuck off. When I'm done with the cigarette, on the
seat next to me there's a six of coke and a bottle of Jack
that's all lined up for dessert. I'm tempted to add, "Nya nya."
I'm waiting for It, Santa. The next in a long line of Things I
have to kill. I asked you to stop making these Things last
Christmas, and the Christmas before it, too, but still they
roll off the alien assembly line looking like people who I once
loved or worked with, or whom, frankly, I wish I'd killed while
they were still human.
This one used to be the kid who made my expressos at Mr. Bean's
House of Caffeine. Big nose and those big dark orbs for eyes
that Mulder has. He always asked me, "How you doin', Doctor
Dana?" When I told him it sucked today as much as yesterday,
he'd hand over my change and my cup and say, "Have a nice day
*anyway.*" I'll bet he said something as relentlessly positive
to the aliens, too, just before they cut his chest open with a
Venusian circular saw like they did to Mulder.
Yeah, this one is bothering me because he kinda looks like my
husband. Santa, you fucking know that all I want for Christmas
is the promise of another year with Mulder. That and Tori
Amos's new CD. A girl used to need an alter ego to hump piano
benches while screeching and warbling about her base desires
and how fucked up the enormity of life's shit is. Old
sublimation mechanisms die hard, even when a girl now swears as
much as I do.
When the Thing comes out of the coffee house, I'll kill It the
way I always do -use the big gun with the magnetite bullets,
and if one doesn't finish It, I'll stomp the fucker with my
powerful Dior shearling wedge-boots until I hear that shit that
isn't blood gurgling in Its throat and the anger makes me feel
like plugging It again and again and again. And if It kills me
first, well that won't help It, will it? Not since I found the
weirdest gift of all time under my tree. No, not the battery-
operated, remote-controlled hopping, yodelling lederhosen, but
immortality. I gotz it.
Should I thank Fellig, or Clyde Bruckman, or Cancerman? Or was
it whatever crossed over the placenta from William to me? M
aybe it was all of that and more. An unforeseen collision,
resulting in a gift that I didn't know I had until the Thing
that once was my housekeeper shot me in the head. Mulder said I
was only out for about 30 seconds before I sat up and laughed
wickedly, kinda like I was humping a piano bench, then ripped
Its head off with my bare hands.
Oh, fuck your skeptical bullshit, Santa. Go talk to your own
god-damned workshop posse. The little guys are guilty as crap.
And you know what? I've slipped them a secret peppermint-
flavored bribe to make Mulder immortal, too, because god knows
what I'll be in a hundred years without Fox Mulder's influence.
Without him, I'll end up just eating the Things raw. Screw
the magic bullets. I'll drink them down like my Jack-and-cokes.
And I'll smile.
This was your idea, Bing. Fuck you if you can't handle it. I
can. I have no choice, do I? To save everyone's collective ass,
I gotta play Highlandress and kill this fucker, as well as who
knows how many more like It for how many more years. But when
I'm done tonight, I want to go home to my darling, my sweet,
patient, beautiful Mulder. I'm going to ride him all night. I'm
going to fuck the immortality into him or at least try,
screeching and warbling all the way. And if that doesn't work,
I'll find something else that does. I will. I know the elves
are on my side.
Jingle Jangle,
DKS-M
(
geocities.com/xmas_files)