TITLE:  Devil's Jukebox
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere okay w/ these headers attached.
CLASSIFICATION:  SH
SUMMARY:  Very silly, hopefully funny, parody-ish version of a songfic.
Mulder gets a snazzy new CD player.
RATING:  PG-13 for some raunchy lyrics and a few choice words.
SPOILERS:  none
DISCLAIMER:  Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox, although 
I doubt they would want to lay claim to this version of them.  I apologize 
for making Mulder look like an idiot.  The song lyrics aren't mine either 
(thankfully); song credits are listed at the end of the story.  No infringement 
intended.

_____________

Devil's Jukebox
by Susanne Barringer


I spend a whole Saturday morning setting up my new speakers and my new 
200 disc capacity state-of-the-art CD player, with supersonic changer.  It 
cost me a small fortune, but it represents the cutting edge of audio 
technology.  It can switch from one CD to another in 1.68 seconds, no 
more waiting between songs.  And it has instantaneous fast forward!  The 
remote control is pretty complicated--there must a hundred keys--but I 
think I have it under command.

While I am loading my entire CD collection into the changer, I come across 
a song I haven't listened to in years.  The title reminds me of Scully, so I 
put it on to play.  As the words flow from the speakers, I feel like the 
music is singing my life with its words, even killing me softly with its song.  
Every word just so perfectly sums up what Scully means to me, how I feel 
about her.  As the last notes ring through my new Millennium 3000 Space-
Age surround sound speakers with mega-deluxe woofer and tweeter, I 
know exactly what I need to do.  With a clarity I've never felt before, I 
know the perfect way to tell Scully how I feel about her once and for all.  

Before I can change my mind, I call her on the phone and ask her over for 
dinner.  

I go all out to make the evening more romantic than our usual friendly get-
togethers.  I cook my special meatloaf, light candles, and actually use 
placemats.  I want Scully to realize that this is going to be a magical 
evening.  I think she understands.  During dinner, she keeps looking at me 
over the "say it with flowers" floral centerpiece, her eyes warm and loving, 
her smile glowing brighter than I've ever seen it.  She wants me.  I can tell.  
I'm not sure when the perfect moment will be to play the song, but I know 
I'll know it when it comes. 

After dinner, the moment comes.  

"Mulder, is this your new 200 disc capacity, state-of-the-art CD player 
with supersonic changer?" Scully asks, as if on cue.

"Yeah, it's awesome.  Now I can have my entire CD collection ready to 
play at a moment's notice."

"It's nice," she says.  Scully's good about things like that.  She always 
knows just what to say.

"Scully, sit down, I want to play a song for you."

She looks at me curiously, but does as instructed.  I pick up the remote 
control and sit next to her on the couch.  Close.  She settles back into the 
cushions and snuggles up next to me.  My hands are shaking, I'm so 
nervous.  This is the moment. 

I press the appropriate buttons to retrieve the playlist of romantic songs I 
programmed into the CD player before Scully's arrival.  Then I turn to her 
so that I can gaze into her eyes as one should do at a moment like this.  
"Scully," I say, feeling very mushy and sentimental, "I want you to listen to 
this song very carefully.  Listen to the lyrics.  There's a message in them 
from me to you.  It explains exactly how I feel about you."  She looks up at 
me, her eyes shining with curiosity and what I hope is insatiable desire.  
This is it.  All my hopes and dreams are about to be laid out in front of her.  
What she does with them will determine the course of the rest of my life.

I hit the play button.  

The song I have chosen especially for Dana Scully, the one that reveals my 
heart and soul, is on disc number 134, track number five.  For some reason 
disc 13 comes up instead.  When I realize the mistake, I try to hit stop, but 
I press fast-forward accidentally.  The song starts playing in the middle of 
the track.  I can feel Scully looking at me, expectantly, waiting for my 
admission of love.  Just before it clicks in my brain what song is playing, 
the chorus comes blaring through the Millennium 3000 Space-Age 
surround sound speakers.  Loudly.  Very loudly.  Resoundingly loudly.



Oh fuck.  I feel Scully tense beside me and then pull away from me. 

"Wait, Scully, that's not it!  I swear!  Wait!"  Damn Jimmy Buffett.  Why is 
that CD even in there?  I curse Jimmy Buffett to hell for all eternity for 
writing such a stupid song.

In a panic to get Buffett to stop playing, I hit some combination of buttons 
that immediately starts another song, and the volume grows louder.  



I frantically press keys, trying to find the stop button.  Scully is glaring at 
me, a look of shock and horror on her face.  I hear the CDs shift in the 
player.  There's only 1.68 seconds to react between songs and I'm not 
familiar enough with the remote keys to react that quickly.  Not to mention 
I have no idea how to stop a programmed playlist once it's started.  I didn't 
plan on having to stop it until morning!



God almighty, I didn't even know I *owned* that song.  The volume rises, 
the music vibrating the walls of my apartment.  In trying to get the damned 
remote to work, I end up fast-forwarding to the end of the song.  
Unfortunately.



What the hell is going on?  Scully, who is currently sitting WAY over on 
the other end of the sofa, is silent, not moving.  She isn't even looking at 
me anymore.  I yell over the din of the music, George Michael wailing his 
proposition along with my own apology.  "Scully, I'm sorry.  This isn't 
working.  Something's wrong with . . . "

I'm interrupted by another change of songs, even louder than the previous 
ones.  The damn machine is running on its own now, switching disks at 
random, starting in the middle of tracks.  Like it's possessed or something.  
One thing I'm sure of, I'm a dead man.





The songs keep changing of their own will.  I jump up to hit the stop 
button on the receiver.  Nothing works.  Not the stop button, not the off 
button, not the volume control, nothing.



Okay, that one was extremely ill-timed, but there's nothing I can do.  I quit 
pushing buttons.  I give up.  I resign myself to my fate.  Luckily, Scully isn't 
wearing her gun.  The music continues, changing its approach toward 
ruining my life.





Suddenly, out of the blue, there is silence. The Millennium 3000 Space-Age 
surround sound speakers are hushed.  It is deafening.  I look up to see 
Scully holding the plug.  Before me, the CDs are quiet in the changer, the 
lights on the console are dimmed.  Ding dong, the witch is dead.

Scully leans up against the wall, the electrical cord dangling from her hand 
like a comatose snake.  Her chest is heaving from the energy spent 
vanquishing the monster, crucifying the anti-Christ, exorcising the spawn of 
Satan.  Or maybe she's just pissed.

I look at her.  She looks at me.  I look at her some more.  

"Scully?" 

There is nothing else to say.  What can a man possibly say when he has 
taken what should have been a romantic evening and turned it into a farce, 
a slapstick horror, a bad piece of fanfic?

I wait.  The seconds tick by like hours.  I wish for a song to break the 
unendurable silence.  Any song.

Then . . . 

Thank God, my lucky stars, and the Academy!  Scully is laughing.  It rises 
up out of her and circles around me, filling the room better than any 
Millennium 3000 Space-Age surround sound speakers could.  I hear my 
own laughter join hers, bouncing off the walls, echoing through the 
apartment.  In stereo.

We make beautiful music together.

END
____________

I *told* you it was silly!
sbarringer@usa.net

All of my fanfic is available on my webpage:
http://www.oocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442

Song credits, in order of appearance (listed by performer because I'm too 
lazy to look up the writers):

"Why Don't We Get Drunk" - Jimmy Buffett
"Feel U Up" - Prince
"I Want Your Sex" - George Michael
"You Spin Me Round" - Dead or Alive
"Me So Horny" - 2 Live Crew
"Porno" - Limbomaniacs
"I Hate You" - Slayer
"Short People" - Randy Newman

    Source: geocities.com/area51/dreamworld/2442