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We got our first snowstorm yesterday. Unfortunately I had to drive to work in the mess. Then they cancelled midnight shift and day shift for today yet they wouldn't let us go home early. So apparently, it's too dangerous to risk Midnight shift's lives on the road but 4-12 is just fine to drive in the mess. Needless to say I feel real special. Sheesh! Second shift sucks ass on occasion. Anyway, enough bitchin'…
On to the "show…"
Two Fathers (3): FYODT (Find Your Own Damn Truth)
Abbreviations to date:
Dr. Eugene Openshaw: DO
Nameless Doctor: ND
Cassandra Spender: CS
Cigarette-Smoking Man: CSM
Agent (Return to Sender)Spender: RTSS
A.D. Skinner: SK
Number of times I refer to Agent (Return to Sender) Spender by Mulder's usual epitaph: 1
Back to CSM's narrative:
CSM: My son refused to believe that his mother had been abducted… though it had been going on for years. Even after I schemed to put him in charge of the X-Files where Fox Mulder had amassed so much evidence of our secret plans… <But your brilliant crew kept the secret perfectly. How could there be any evidence? Oh that's right because you guys are sloppy and incompetent. Continue…> he still couldn't bring himself to accept the possibility of alien life. <Not for nothing but what exactly did you expect? Wasn't the whole point of putting RTSS in the X-Files was to basically make sure that the X-Files wouldn't uncover anything? With his mindset it's a given.> When he did… come to believe… when the facts became so glaring he turned… not to me, his father, but to the man I'd ruined. The man I'd chosen for him to replace. <Why would anyone with half a brain go to you? You lie like you smoke!>
Cut to…
A basketball court in a gymnasium. Several men are playing basketball. One of these men is one Special Agent Fox Mulder (M) who is playing hookey from work. M is sporting a Knicks shirt which I greatly approve of. <Of course that's my NY bias showing but so what? At least the Punk has some taste!> M makes a basket, then stops when he sees Scully (S) enter the gym. She is wearing a shorter than usual business suit and trenchcoat.
Nameless Basketball Player (NBP): [to M] Hey, Milk, let's play ball. <Interesting nickname.>
M waits for S to get closer.
NBP: %[irritated, to M] Yo, Homestyle, cough up the rock. <Yo Philes what's up with that? No, seriously, what the hell is this? I have never heard anyone say anything like that. I've never heard anyone in the "hood" call anyone homestyle. Rock is either a stone, including those of the precious and semi-precious persuasion or crack. And while I often wonder what it is that Mulder's smoking I don't really think that crack has anything to do with his crazy behavior. Why must one of the few black folks to show up on The X-Files speak this way anyway?>
Another Ball Player: [offscreen] Got Nick over here?
Yet another offscreen player: Yeah, yeah, I got Nick!
M tosses the ball over his shoulder to a teammate, then turns, receives and casually shoots the ball, making the basket.
M: Game.
NBP: [Shaking his hand, not accepting the basket] Oh, no, no. Naw, Ike it don't work like that. <At least that's what it sounded like to me. Closed captioning doesn't help here.>
M joins S at the side of the court.
M: Hey, Homegirl, word up. <Please excuse me while I cringe and contemplate beating myself senseless. Damn near 40 year old men should not speak this way.>
S: Mulder, it's my distinct impression that you just cheated. And that you're not coming in again today. <Yup on both counts>
M: Oh, Scully, I got game. <No M you don't. And stop talking like that!>
S: Yeah, you got so much game I'm wondering if you have any work left in you.
M: No, I'm ready to J-O-B just not on some jagoff shoeshine tip. <Someone make him stop!>
S: [giving M a very small smile] No "jagoff shoeshine tip"?
M: [smiling] No background checkin' jagoff shoeshine tip.
S: Well, about your J-O-B, Mulder, somebody's been trying very hard to reach you by phone. Somebody who wants you back at the FBI ASAP.
M: [Suddenly serious] About what?
S: About an X-File. <You interested now M?>
FBI Headquarters
Washington D.C.
FBI bullpen. M enters and finds RTSS sitting at his [M's] desk writing a note. <When you care enough to send the very best…>
M: You looking for work, Agent Spender? 'Cause if you are, I got a whole pile in that middle drawer that I'd love to shove down someone's throat. <Be nice! No actually, screw that just try to pretend to be civil.>
RTSS: I was just writing you a note. I think you know why I'm here. <To get on our nerves? Where's Krycek to beat him senseless when you need him?>
M: They found your mother.
RTSS: She wants to talk to you.
M: I didn't hear the magic word. <Neither did I.>
RTSS: Look, Agent Mulder, I'm not going to get down on my knees here. <Why exactly are you there then? Isn't it customary to ask someone for their help. Asking generally in polite circles entails the use of the word "please." Besides, I wasn't under the impression that you'd gotten a promotion so that you were in a position to give M orders. Punk!>
M: Are you asking me, Agent Spender?
RTSS: My mother's been gone for almost a year. She turns up in a train car where she's been operated on by a group of doctors who were burned alive. I just want the truth. <You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!>
M: The truth is out there, Agent Spender. Maybe you should find it for yourself. <That's quite a difficult feat when one is working for the forces who would deceive, inveigle, and obfuscate.>
RTSS walks away.
To be continued…
Deceiving, Inveigling, and obfuscating makes truth finding difficult huh? Especially when one works for the people who make up the truth as they go along. Of course RTSS wouldn't know the truth if it came up to him and bit him in the ass but that's besides the point.
Argh! Why oh why must M insist on the damn slang! No middle aged man should ever talk that way. It's enough to make you want to throw yourself down the stairs or something. At the very least it's enough to make you wish that Krycek was there with his gun. Okay so maybe that's just me.
RTSS has no manners. Asking means some show of humbleness, the use of the words "please" and "thank you," some semblance of groveling. Barking orders is not asking. It's no wonder no one wants to do things for the punk.
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