Oh joy, disclaimer time!! Well, the characters all property of FOX
broadcasting and are used without permission. If this should ever find its
way to the fiction library...ha ha, I win :-) This story doesn't make
much sense, but then, I'm only half awake. So what can you expect. I wrote
half of it in my head during dinner tonight. Can you guess what we had?
Pot Roast By: Anna Adler (AnnaX45@aol.com)
Chilmark Mass. June 3, 1974 6:32 pm
Fox Mulder scooted his chair noisily across the linoleum floor. He
got up, went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, stood in front
of it intently for a moment, finally he took out a bottle of Heinz ketchup.
"Fox, what are you doing?" his mother asked from the dining room.
"Just getting a drink, Mom." he lied. He brought the ketchup to the
table with him and held it under the table. His father said grace, and then
his mother served the pot roast.
he thought to himself. he thought unhappily. "I could use some pepper."
Fox said, looking at his mother with his dark hazel eyes.
"I forgot to set it out, I think," she said. "I'll go get it." His
mother disappeared into the kitchen. Fox pulled the ketchup bottle out from
under the table and shook it until it began to come out onto his plate.
His mother came back from the kitchen, but did not notice.
His father looked up from his plate.
"Fox, what are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing, Dad." he said, looking at his ketchup.
"It's not nothing Fox, it looks like you were putting ketchup on
your pot roast."
"Well, I guess it looks that way..."
"That's what you were doing right? You were going to eat your pot
roast with ketchup weren't you?" his father asked, raising his voice.
"I guess I was."
"Fox, this pot roast was stewed in it's own juices. It doesn't
need any ketchup on it," his mother said.
"I like the ketchup though."
"I don't care." his father said. "You are going to put the ketchup
away right now."
"May I be excused?" Fox asked.
"No, you haven't eaten dinner yet. Now put the ketchup away."
"Why can't I eat pot roast with ketchup like everybody else?"
Fox complained.
"You know that very well," his mother said. "Don't make us make
you repeat it again."
"Fine." Fox said, and took the ketchup back to the kitchen. "I
still don't get it," he said under his breath.
"I heard that!" His father yelled. "Now you're in trouble. Come on
Fox, you know what you have to say."
"I forget." He lied, to buy time.
"You don't forget."
"I do, I swear, I forgot."
"Fine, fine. Okay: 'I will not eat ketchup with my pot roast
because Samantha ate ketchup with her post roast.'"
"I will not eat..." Fox began, then abruptly stopped.
"Come on..."
"NO!" He yelled loudly, "I won't say it! Why can't you just forget
about it?? Why can't you just forget?" he yelled.
His mother began to cry and his father made him go up to his room.
"Why can't you just forget about it?" he yelled at the top of
the stairs.
Washington DC June 3, 1994 5:45 pm
"Why can't you just forget about it?" Special Agent Dana Scully
asked Fox.
"Because," he said, searching through papers strewn across his desk.
"That was my favorite tie."
"I swear Mulder, you left it at that hotel in Denver. I'm sorry."
"Damn. Hey Scully," he said. "Will you promise me something?"
"What?"
"That you will never wear burgandy again."
"Why?" she said, looking at her burgandy jacket. "I like burgandy.
Is it a bad color for me? You know the woman at Bloomingdales..."
"No, no, it's a very nice color on you. It's just that I love the
color burgandy, and my tie was burgandy."
"I'm sorry, I'm just not making the connection."
"Would you not wear burgandy out of memorial for my tie?"
"Mulder, you're crazy! Where on earth did you ever get an idea like
that from?"
"I don't know," he said, frowning. "Never mind. That was an awfully
stupid thing to say."
"Mulder, you need to get some sleep."
"That's a good idea. I think that I'm going to go home now."
"Good night Mulder." Scully said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See ya." He said, his back already turned. Scully shook her head.
6:32 pm
Fox peered into the refrigerator. There wasn't much there. He found
the mystery package his next door neighbor had sent over last week, when
he had the flu, in the freezer. He never looked at it, he was too sick
to think about eating then. He slowly unrapped it. Pot roast. A lot of
pot roast.
He made a mental note to thank Rob for this. He put it in the
microwave and rejoiced that there would be enough for lunch the next day.
He got the ketchup bottle out of the refrigerator and set it down on the
counter. All of a sudden, ketchup on pot roast seemed like a ridiculoius
idea, and he put it back in the fridge. He sat down and rested his chin
on his fist. It was strange today. He and Scully had found evidence that
would nail a murder suspect, but all day, he had been having the worst
cases of deja vu.
Fin~
This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris
Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. All used without
permission and no infringment of copyright is intended.
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