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WorseFic: A REALLY INTRIGUING TITLE (That also contains the words Heart and Mine And perhaps the Word Pulsing or Maybe Throbbing, But Not in that Order): Part 1/1 (Trust me, you don't want more) Posted March 2/98 By Y. Phone-Ruse (a.k.a. Bellisima F. deLaCoeur) PLEASE ARCHIVE THIS ANYWHERE *after* you first e-mail me (except Gossamer--thanks Deirdre!) and I say sure, fine, and delete out this intro ... because I'm posting this on a whim and I'm convinced in a minute I will be tragically humiliated (besides, although it's bad, and it's fic, I don't know if it fits the technical term "badfic" and I don't want to step on any toes or flaunt any rules or nothin'--apologies if I've inadvertently done so). Summary and notes follow, scroll to read the short storystuff if this bores you but you still care to read. In any event, I always think the intro should be longer than the stupid storystuff anyhow, don't you? This is where I really get to tell everyone everything they ever wanted to know about me, my pet Dachshund Joey, and me. Why'd I name him Joey? Oh, well ... You know, I really don't have a dog. So I can name him whatever I want. Summary: Um, M&S meet and do things together. Stuff that kids can't--well, shouldn't read. Except I am pure of heart and don't write about that stuff. Nope. Gee, I guess that's why the story part is so short. Not much left now, is there? Disclaimer, Rating, and Feedback Supplication: These characters aren't mine, and I don't exist. Neither do they, really, for that matter. Therefore, if you are under the age of 17, might I recommend some nice relaxing Euripedes instead. If you're under the age of 17 and don't really care for his dramas, read on ... If you're over the age of 17, well ... God, you're *old*! Too old for me to squander my lost youth worrying about. This not really a story was not written and will never be good for monetary profit, intangible gain, or even free laundry, much to my chagrin. Regardless, send me feedback! Send me lots! Send me little airplane soaps--oh, wait, sorry. Scratch that last. This ten seconds of madness is dedicated to the wonderful but flu-stricken Amanda, because she asked me for an MSR and I was bored and she was sick and I figure it did things to her brain. I said, "Help, I have no ideas." She wrote back, "Mulder and Scully fall in love. There, that was easy." Isn't she absolutely brilliant? I wrote this thing back in about two minutes to prove just how out of ideas I am. She said it was "amazingly dreadful" and edited and suggested a few additions and insisted I post it as worsefic. So blame her. I do. I actually find it makes my life a whole lot easier. I would hope this is shipper friendly, cause I'm a shipper. Noromos, you're on your own. Y'all are not like us. In the words of someone far wiser than I, "You're different." Once upon a time, there were two FBI agents. Their names were Mulder and Scully. The girl-agent was Scully, just so you know. She was short. She was smart. She was kinda like the little red-haired girl in Charlie Brown's class, except she was older and thinner and knew a lot more stuff. Oh! She wasn't a cartoon, either, which is a handy fact to know if you want to tell them apart. In short, she was petite, flame-haired, brilliant, compassionate, good, kind, decent, loving, and somewhat shafted. He was ... Mulder. I guess he was also tall. Like everyone else, he often sat in his office and thought, "Scully is petite, flame-haired, brilliant, compassionate, good, kind, decent, loving, and has been somewhat shafted." But sometimes, he also thought, "And she sure does have large ... tracts of land." He thought this, but he didn't say it out loud. This was because he was a Federal Employee and he had a Degree. The Degree was from Oxford, so it was an Impressive Degree, even though it was just an undergrad psych degree. This was why he was a profiler, which is a really cool thing to be. The Impressive Degree was important because it meant he knew he wasn't really allowed to tell Scully those things he thought, even if no one else would've honestly cared. Upon an analysis of the facts, Mulder felt to talk to Scully would be Bad. This was mostly because he never analyzed things like facts, and was not that good at it really. Regardless, Mulder and Scully worked together for 5 years. They were together a lot and did many things. Eventually, they fell in love, because, well, they worked a lot and never met anyone else. Also because they were both very beautiful and hell, why not? Otherwise they would be doomed to singlehood for the rest of their lives and no one wants that. And, in all honesty, Mulder was pushing forty and Scully was at that age where the relatives sat around and talked about her in hushed whispers. Everyone assumed they were involved anyway, and marriage was in fact the logical step, as she told him the night before. It was a lucky thing that they were also fairly good friends. So they didn't mind the whole flowers-hearts-unbridled passion thing too much, even if it did result in massive personality changes. Mulder started listening to a lot of 90's techno-beat love songs and Scully started wearing matching sets of black lace-edged underwear. Afterwards, Scully was heard to say that she minded the underwear less than the music, and Mulder was of like mind. The strawberry-scented hair was more of a problem (Scully's, not Mulder's, because Mulder never smelled of strawberries, artificially flavoured or otherwise. Instead, when he had to smell, he smelled only of the rather unpleasant combination of stale sweat and damp leather and something else indescribable but which Scully always suspected was bile). It was not widely known, but Mulder was highly allergic to strawberries, and the sickly-sweet odor made him rather nauseous. In despair, Scully tried using a different shampoo, and her hair began to smell of Pantene with a strong underlay of strawberry. This was slightly more acceptable. They had a really small wedding, mainly because since they worked so hard all the time they didn't really have lives and consequently had few friends, but partly because many of their family members and friends had died tragically since they'd started working together. So they really saved money on the invitations and food. Because the wedding was so small, and because Scully (who has a first name too, but that's not really important now) didn't buy a big meringue-type dress or anything, they had enough money to go to Paris for their honeymoon. They stayed on Rue Rivoli in a charming little bed and breakfast. Because no one really cared too much about such things, least of all the federal government, they stayed an extra month because they liked it so much. Curiously enough, in later years they never recalled seeing much of Paris. However, they remember the paint chip on the ceiling of their room with great accuracy. Naturally, they had several children, despite a slight infertility problem. Thanks to improved medical technology--along with shady and surreptitious connections in the world of reproductive biology--Scully gave birth once, and only once--to triplets. They named them Samantha, Melissa, and Emily, because they liked order and monotony in their personal lives. Scully really wanted a boy named William, but, well, every couple needs a Tragic History. Later, Samantha grew up and married someone named Bill, and gave birth to a baby boy named Ed and a lovely little girl named Cassandra. Melissa died before she got married, although for a short time she dated an elderly gentleman named Skinner, who had a really high- tech walker which fascinated her when she was younger. Emily, who was into alternate lifestyles, lived in a quaint garrote all her life, wore a lot of black, and decided to become a subversive computer genius. She lived with a good friend of hers named Teena, and sometimes another woman named Cindy--or maybe her name was Kristen--joined them for a few months. Eventually, Teena and Emily bowed to convention and got married too. But not to each other. This was mostly because they could never decide who got to be the groom--Teena had philosophical objections to being a bride, and Emily had fashionable objections to wearing white. It was quite an impossible situation, as you see. That's pretty much it, unless you're curious about their funerals, which were tasteful affairs. Mostly everyone wore black, except Emily. She wore yellow, because she found black depressing at a funeral. The end. This is my first Worsefic. Please please please write me, so I can be worse next time! All done. Bye bye now. Well, all done except for the appendices ... Appendix A: For Ellie, who so rightly noted that a badfic is never complete without a song (I honestly don't know how I could have forgotten): Maybe you haven't yet heard the story of how Mulder proposed. One day, as Mulder was sitting on his couch, watching videotapes late at night, he came across Sesame Street, which as you might know is the kind of show Mulder loved to watch late at night. In a high, vaguely off-key voice, the little girl on the screen began to sing. Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went ... Yes! Mulder thought. Scully was that lamb. The lamb that loved Mary. Mulder and Mary. They were both "M" names, if you ignored the Fox part. Mulder listened intently, the words washing over him. It was all becoming clear to him now! Scully loved him. And why not? He was a lovable guy, just like Mary, except Mary was not a guy. He watched the screen. No, Mary was most certainly not male. ... the lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day, School one day, school one day, He followed her to school one day, It was against the rules. It became clear what he had to do. School is a big building. Like city hall. And the lamb followed Mary to city hall. If he asked Scully to marry him and follow him to city hall, she'd do it! Even if it was against the Bureau's rules. Mary and her lamb. He knew what he had to do. |