(Mulder stabs stabs stabs rocks rocks rocks)
Mulder: (Showing pointy teeth) Look at that! Huh? Huh? (Scully pulls out fake teeth) Oh, sh . . .
Scully: First of all, if the family of Ronnie Strickland does decide to sue the FBI for, I think the figure is $446 million, then both you and I will most certainly be co-defendants. And second of all . . . I don't even have a second of all, Mulder! $446 million! I'm in this as deeply as you are, and I'm not even the one that overreacted! I didn't do the (stabbing motion) with the thing!
Mulder: I did not overreact, Ronnie Strickland was a vampire!
Scully: Where's your proof?
Mulder: You're my proof! You were there! Okay, now you're scaring me. I want to hear EXACTLY what you're going to tell Skinner.
Scully: Oh, you want our stories straight.
Mulder: No, no, I didn't say that. I just want to hear it the way YOU saw it.
Scully: I don't feel comfortable with that.
Mulder: PRISON, Scully! Your cell-make's nickname is gonna be LARGE MARGE. She's gonna read a lot of Gertrude Stein.
Scully: Okay, yesterday morning when I arrived at work you were, uh . . . characteristically exuberant.
Mulder: (Slapping plane tickets on desk, all his dialog is rapid-fire fast) Hope ya brought your cowboy boots!
Scully: You want us to go to Dallas?
Mulder: Yee Haw! Actually a town called Chaney about 50 miles south of there, population 361, by all accounts very rustic and charming. But as of late, ground zero of the locus for a series of mysterious nocturnal exsanguna-SHUNS.
Scully: Exsanguinations? Of whom?
Mulder: (Cow slide) How does that grab ya?
Scully: It's a . . .
Mulder: . . dead cow. Exactly. Or more specifically, a dead 900 pound Holstein, its body completely drained of blood, as was this one (slide) this one (another) this one (another), this one (another) and so on. Six, all in all, approximately one a week over the past six weeks.
Scully: Is there any sign . . .
Mulder: Two small puncture wounds on the neck?
Scully: That's not what I was going to ask.
Mulder: Too bad! We got em! Check it out! (Slide of 2 puncture wounds)
Scully: Well, those may be syringe marks, or placement meant to emulate fangs. Such ritualistic bloodletting points toward cultists of some sort in which case . . . (Mulder looking at her funny) What?
Mulder: (Mocking) Yeah! That's probably it! Satanic cultists! C'mon, Scully!
Scully: You're not going to tell me you think this is that Mexican goatsucker, are you?
Mulder: El Chupacabra? No, they got four fangs not two, and they suck GOATS, hence the name.
Scully: So instead, this would be . . .
Mulder: Classic Vampirism.
Scully: It was there that we were met by a representative of local law enforcement, Sheriff . . .
Sheriff Hartwell: Lucious Hartwell. You the FBI agents?
Scully: (Dreamily) Yessss.
Mulder: Agents Mulder and, uh . . . (snaps fingers) Scully.
Mulder: C'mon, Scully, get those little legs moving! C'mon!
Mulder: (Revealing the dead tourist) Nice threads!
Mulder: Your 'satanic cultists' have some sharp little teeth!
Hartwell: What satanic cultists?
Mulder: Look at that! (reveals holes in neck) Tell him your little 'theory'. (makes quotes with fingers)
Scully: He believes he is a vampire therefore he . . .
Hartwell: They act like a vampire. Yeah . . . yeah . . . That makes a whole lotta sense! I think she's right!
Mulder: What about the fang marks?
Scully: Well, someone so obsessed might well file down their incisors. I think that a melage casting should help us make an identification.
Hartwell: Melage casting! That's a good idea. Now, isn't there some kind of disease that makes a person think that they're a vampire?
Scully: Well, there is a psychological fixation called Hematodypsia which causes the sufferer to gain erotic satisfaction from consuming human blood.
Hartwell: Erotic . . . Yeah . . .
Hartwell: You really know your stuff, Dana.
Mulder: (over) DANA?! He never even knew your first name!
Scully: (over) You gonna interrupt me or what?
Mulder: (over) No. You go ahead. Dana . . .
Hartwell: (In a replay) Agent Scully, you really know your stuff.
Mulder: Sheriff, do you have an old cemetery in town, off the beaten path, the creepier the better?
Hartwell: Uh, yeah.
Mulder: (Snaps finger and points) Take me there. Now!
Scully: Whoa whoa whoa whoa! What am I even looking for?
Mulder: (Holding her shoulders, really serious) I don't know.
Scully: 4:54 PM. Begin autopsy on white male, age 60. Who is arguably having a worse time in Texas than I am . . . Although not by much. (Blade falls off her scalpel, said deadpan) yee hah . . .
Scully: Intestines, 860 grams, yadda yadda yadda. Stomach contents show . . . last meal close to the time of death. Consisting of . . . pizza. Topped with pepperoni, green peppers, mushrooms . . . mushrooms . . . that sounds really good.
Scully: (over) After completing the autopsy, I checked into the Davey Crockett Motor Court.
(title on bottom appears as normal)
Mulder: (over) It was actually the Sam Houston Motor Lodge.
(type at bottom corrects itself)
Mulder: Who slipped him the Mickey?
Scully: My 'theory'? Your vampire . . . found it necessary to dope poor Mr. Funt to the gills before he was able to extract his blood. Probably did it to the cows, too.
Mulder: What kind of vampire would do that?
Scully: Exactly.
Mulder: We got another dead tourist. You got to do another autopsy.
Scully: Tonight? I just put money in the Magic Fingers!
Mulder: I won't let it go to waste.
(Mulder hops onto bed still wearing muddy trenchcoat)
Scully: Phew!
(She gets up, longingly looking at bed while Mulder starts laughing)
Scully: Mulder, are you okay?
(He's drugged, lying on the ground)
Mulder: Who's the black private dick who's a sex machine with all the chicks? Shaft! Can ya dig it? They say this cat Shaft is a bad mutha - shut yo mouth! I'm talkin' bout Shaft!
Mulder: (over) I DID NOT!
(Back at the office, reacting to singing theme song from SHAFT. Scully asks for his rendition. He gives the first line in SHAFT STYLE)
Mulder: Yo damn right. Yesterday morning began like any other morning. You arrived at the office characteristically . . . LESS than exuberant.
Scully: Well, it's obviously not a vampire.
Mulder: Why not?
(Answering like a brat)
Scully: Because they don't EXIST.
(Talking about all the coffins)
Mulder: Why would a town with a population of only 361 need that?
Funeral Director: Repeat customers! Mortician humor.
Mulder: (over) Apparently, your mind was somewhere else.
(Sheriff enters. Scully starts going all ga-ga over him.)
Scully: Hoo-Boy!
(Sheriff Hartwell opens his mouth - cranking out heavily accented southern drawl complete with a severe overbite and icky teeth. Mulder cringes while Scully is still going ga ga.)
Hartwell: Y'all muss be the guv'mint peeple.
Scully: (over) He had big . . . buckteeth?!
Mulder: (over) He had a . . . slight overbite.
Mulder: Well, historically cemeteries are thought to be a haven for vampires. As are castles, catacombs and swamps but unfortunately you don't have any of those.
Hartwell: We used to have swamps, only the EPA made use take to callin' them wetlands . . .
Mulder: The absence of birds singing.
Hartwell: There ya go! Cuz I . . . I ain't hearin' any birds singin', right? Course, it's winter and we ain't got no birds, but is . . is there anything else?
Ronnie: Looks like you got a runaway, Sheriff.
Hartwell: Ayeah.
(An RV is making backwards circles in parking lot)
Mulder: (over) Okay. here's something you may not know . . . shooting out the tires of a runaway RV is a lot harder than it looks. (Both Mulder and Sheriff emptied their guns but RV still circles) I then tried a different approach.
(Mulder is now hanging onto the front bumper, being dragged around in circles)
Mulder: Whoaaaa!!!!!
Hartwell: C'mon! Bird Doggit! Atta boy!
(Flies off, gets all muddy)
Mulder: (over) Finally, we prevailed . . .
(The RV just stops)
Scully: What do you mean, you want me to do another autopsy? And why do I have to do it right now? I've just spent hours on my feed doing an autopsy, all for you! I do it all for you, Mulder! You know, I haven't eaten since 6 o'clock this morning and all that was was half a cream cheese bagel and it wasn't real cream cheese, it was light cream cheese! And now you want me to run off and do another autopsy?
(Finally slightly calms down to notice he's covered in mud)
Scully: What the hell happened to you?!
Mulder: (over) FINALLY, you left.
Scully: Don't you touch that bed!
(Mulder throws sunflower seeds, which Ronnie has to pick up one by one)
Ronnie: Aw, man! Why'd you have to go and do that for? (Looks up and points at Mulder) You are in big trouble!
Scully: (over, reacting to Mulder's events) You're saying that I actually hit him . . . two times?
Mulder: (hits himself) Square in the chest. No effect.
Scully: And then he sort of flew at me like a flying squirrel?
Mulder: Well, I don't think I'll use the term flying squirrel when I talk to Skinner, but yeah . . . that's what happened.
Pathologist: Probable cause of death . . . (sees stake in heart) That's a tough one.
(Mulder and Scully are fidgeting in Skinner's waiting room. She fixes his tie and he slaps her hand away)
Scully: Mulder, please just keep reminding him you were drugged.
Mulder: Will you stop that!
Scully: Couldn't hurt!
Mulder: Stop it!
Skinner: Scully? Mulder?
(They both pop up standing)
Mulder: I was drugged!
Skinner: A coroner was attacked. His throat was . . . bitten.
Mulder: The coroner's dead?
Skinner: No, his throat was bitten . . . it was sort of . . . gnawed on. Daylight's burning, agents!
Scully: Wait, he was dead!
Mulder: I noticed that.
Scully: With a stake through his heart!
Mulder: I noticed that too.
(When Hartwell shows in cemetery, Scully points to her upper teeth. Mulder, noticing, lets out the next line in a southern drawl)
Mulder: Yeeah.
Scully: As Mulder said, there are many kinds of vampires.
Hartwell: Yeah. There sure are. I really need to apologize to you about Ronnie. He makes us all look bad. He's just not who we are anymore. I mean, we pay taxes, we're good neighbors. Ol' Ronnie, he just can't grasp the concept of . . . low profile. But though he may be a moron, he's . . . one of our own.
(Riding Ronnie's bucking coffin, trying to keep Ronnie in)
Mulder: C'mon, cut it out Ronnie!
(Looks out window, sees he's being surrounded by vampires)
Mulder: Oh, sh . . .
(Mulder uses breadsticks as makeshift crosses!)
Mulder: They pulled up stakes.
Scully: Anyway . . . I was drugged.
Mulder: That is . . . essentially . . . exactly the way it happened.
Scully: Essentially . . .
(screen blacks out)
Mulder: (over) Except for the part about the buckteeth.
5x11 5x13
