The Final Analysis

Things seem to be a bit slow lately so without further ado the last installment of my latest deconstruction. No rant because I hadn't the time to finish them. (I am actually working on two.) Anyway, on to the "show."

Jose Chung's From Outer Space: The Final Analysis

Abbreviations to date:
Roky : ROK
Harold Lamb: Hsap
Jose Chung (The lech): JC
Scully: S
Chrissy the annoying twit: AT
Irate Father: IF
Mulder: M
Hypnotist (AKA scary looking quack): SLQ
Detective "bleepin'" Manners (AKA Man1): DetM
Cigarette Smoking Alien: CSA
Man in Black 1: MIB1
Man in Black 2: MIB2
Dr. Bulldog: DBD
Military Man 1: MM1
Military Man 2: MM2
Military Man 3: MM3
Blaine Faulkner: BF
Air Force Officer: AFO
Lt. Jack Schaffer: JS
Nameless Soldier: NS

Number of times a question is answered with "How the hell should I know?": 2
Number of spaceships making an appearance: 2
Number of times Jose Chung grossed me out: 3
Number of (gratuitous?) Krycek mentions: 2
Number of times Mulder calls Scully by her last name: 1
Number of times Scully calls Mulder by his last name: 5
Number of death threats issued or alleged to have been issued: 3 *Note I forgot to add one when I sent out part 10. Sorry*

Detective Manners' Filth-o-meter: number of expletives bleeped or blanked: 10

Scully's Motel Room

M knocks on the door to S's room (Room 17) The door swings open as he does.

M: Scully?

M sees MIB2 sitting on the bed turned away from him. MIB1 is looking through her dresser.

M: [whipping out his gun] Where's Scully?

MIB1: Oh. She, uh… she went to get some ice. <A likely story>

M: [disbelieving] Where is she?!

M is pissed. He's a very unhappy camper. S calmly walks in behind him, carrying a full bucket of ice. <God only knows what she needs the ice for. It wouldn't appear that she needs it.> She puts it down on the nightstand.

M: Scully, what's going on here?

S: Mulder, these gentlemen have something very important to tell you. <I'm so sure. And what pray tell might that be because it would appear that they're rifling through your stuff.>

MIB1 walks towards M.

MIB1: Some alien encounters are hoaxes perpetrated by your government to manipulate the public. Some of these hoaxes are intentionally revealed to manipulate the truth-seekers who become discredited if they disclose the deliberately absurd deception.

M puts the gun away <without dropping it> and walks towards the man.

M: Similar things are said about the men in black. That they purposely dress and behave strangely so that if anyone tries to describe an encounter with them, they come off sounding like a lunatic.

MIB1: I find absolutely no reason why anyone would think you crazy if you described this meeting of ours. <Bwah ha ha ha ha! I love this line. Too funny. Obviously MIB1 doesn't know M.>

MIB2 puts his hand on M's shoulder. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Alex Trebek. If fact he looks exactly like Alex Trebek. (Of course we all know that it is Ales Trebek but I suppose that's besides the point.>

MIB2: You're feeling very sleepy, very… relaxed.

JC: [voiceover] Alex Trebek?!

Cut to the X-Files office.

JC: The game show host?!

S: Mulder didn't say that it was Alex Trebek. It was just someone that looked incredibly like him.

JC: Did he?! I mean, you were there.

S: [sheepishly] Well, not exactly, I'm… I don't have any recollection of this. I… was surprised to wake up the next morning to find Mulder asleep in my room.

JC: [dirty thoughts flying through his Grampa Munsteresque head] Ohhhh … <I'm surprised there isn't a fanfic to cover this little gap in JCFOS. Hmmm.>

Cut back to the motel room.

S is under the covers in her bed. M is in a chair on the opposite side of the room. His feet are propped up on another chair, his jacket across his arms and chest like a blanket.

S: But, Mulder… I, I don't even remember letting you in. And I certainly would have remembered sleeping with you. <Sorry too much fanfiction and wishful thinking. Here's the real line…>

S: But, Mulder… I, I don't even remember letting you in.

M: I told you, you didn't let me in. They were already here.

The phone rings. S answers. <What kind of motel is this? Why are there two phones in a rather small room? I think it's overkill. I mean its not like the second phone is in the bathroom which would be very cool.>

S: Scully. [Listens to whoever's on the other end] We'll be right there.

M dips his hands in the ice bucket, finding water instead. <They didn't even use the ice. I read a nice bit of MSR smut which involves a motel room and a bucket of ice. All right I'll stop.> S hangs up the phone.

S: That was Detective Manners. He said they just found your bleeping UFO. <Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha! I love this line. Sailor!Scully Woo Hoo! Which reminds me poor S didn't get to utter one decent 4 letter word in the whole movie. M got to hog the potty language and he's an insufferable Punk! Argh!>

Wreckage site

M, S, and DetM walk towards a downed plane. Soldiers are all over the place. A number of them carry out a body on a sheet.

DetM: Apparently, that was the cause of all those UFO sightings three nights ago. They refused our assistance because it's some kind of top secret, experimental plane. <Yeah right. If you believe that I have a nice bridge here in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you real cheap!>

They stop walking.

M: They don't want our assistance. They want witnesses to their alibi. <Someone to spread the bull around if you will.>

The officers carrying the body walk by.

Another Nameless Soldier: Excuse me, ma'am.

M looks at the body of JS. He walks after them. Another group of men pass carrying the body of Robert Vallee, the man that S had done the autopsy on earlier.

DetM: Hey! That was the guy that was… <on your bleepin' autopsy table. What the bleep?>

S looks at him and walks off after them without saying a word. DetM looks at the deserted wreckage.

DetM: Bleep. <Exactly. Congratulations DetM, you've just gotten a taste of what M & S go through. I hope you've enjoyed your visit. At least you can go back to your normal routine.>

The X-Files Office
FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.

JC dots the last period emphatically and glares at S. Apparently he was expecting more.

S: I know it probably doesn't have the sense of closure that you want… but it has more than some of our other cases.

JC closes his notebook. The leering session is over.

Jose Chung's Office

JC is typing on a typewriter. <Apparently he hasn't caught on to the wonders of word processing on a computer.> He hears murmuring outside and sees a silhouette in his window. He takes out his gun and slowly makes his way to the door. He opens it to see M and a janitor talking.

JC: Agent Mulder? <Who were you expecting the men in black?> [He motions for M to come in. M looks at the older man.]

M: [To the janitor] Thanks.

M walks in and JC closes the door. They stand opposite each other at the desk.

JC: What can I do for you, Agent Mulder?

M: Don't write this book. <You don't ask for much do you M?> [JC sits. M walks over to the left and stands next to a small dresser with books.] You'll perform a disservice through a field of inquiry that has always struggled for respectability. You're a gifted writer, but no amount of talent could describe the events that occurred in any realistic vein because they deal with alternative realities that we're yet to comprehend. And when presented in the wrong way, in the wrong context, the incidents and the people involved in them can appear foolish, if not downright psychotic. <Not unlike how you appear on occasion eh M?> [He walks back to the right, in front of JC's desk.] I also know that your publishing house is owned by Warden White, Incorporated… a subsidiary of MacDougall-Kesler, which makes me suspect a covert agenda for your book on the part of the military-industrial-entertainment complex.

JC: Agent Mulder, this book will be written. <I've got to get some money otherwise the young chickadees I leer at will slap me silly> But it can only benefit if you can explain something to me.

M: What's that?

JC: What really happened to those kids on that night?

M: [looking down] How the hell should I know? <Isn't that what you went up there to find out?>

JC stands up pissed that M has given him nothing to help him and is in essence wasting his time.

JC: Agent Mulder, I appreciate this little visit but I have deadlines to face.

M stares at him for a second, blinks a couple of times, then walks out as JC sits back down. JC starts to type again, but stops and looks at the door. <No doubt pitying the poor FBI agent who has just left his office.>

JC: [voiceover] Evidence of extraterrestrial existence remains as elusive as ever…

Cut to BF, pointing his flashlight to the sky as he is lifted up on the electric company crane.

JC: …but the skies will continue to be searched by the likes of Blaine Faulkner, hoping to someday find not only proof of alien life, but also contentment on a new world. Until then, he must be content with his new job.

BF screams as sparks fly off of the electric pole. <Why am I not surprised that this rather unattractive walking stereotype is also a klutz. Sheesh!>

Cut to El Cajon, California.

A group of people sit on the floor, gathered around ROK, who is standing in front of a strange diagram of the earth with a triangle in the middle, much like an Egyptian pyramid. The triangle has an eye in each corner and clouds in the middle. ROK is wearing a crystal necklace. <If this doesn't scream stereotypical California flake I don't know what does.>

JC: [voiceover as he reads from his book] Others search for answers from within. Roky relocated to El Cajon, California, preaching to the lost and desperate.

ROK: And so, at each death, the soul descends further into the inner earth, attaining ever greater levels of purification, reaching… enlightenment at the core. Assuming, of course, that your soul is able to avoid… the lava men. [He holds his crystal]

Cut to the X-Files office

S is sitting in the office alone reading JC's new book, From Outer Space.

JC: [voiceover] Seeking the truth about aliens means a perfunctory nine-to-five job to some. For although Agent Diana Lesky is noble of spirit and pure in heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee.

S's eyebrows practically dance as she reads the book.

Cut to M's apartment. Or at least what JC must think is M's apartment

M lies in his bed, shirt off, <hoo boy!> watching a video, his left hand on the remote control, his right hand out of view, under the blanket.

JC: As for her partner, Reynard Muldrake… that ticking time bomb of insanity… <Hmmm, one meeting with M and JC has concluded that M is a ticking time bomb of insanity yet he managed to pass the psych screening to get into the FBI. Me thinks that Papa Mulder had something to do with that.> his quest into the unknown has so warped his psyche, one shudders to think how he receives pleasures from life. <He watches porn. Duh! that is not so hard to figure out with a little research. Sheesh!>

M watches the television intently, a shaky video camera footage of Bigfoot walking through the woods far away. We hear low sounds of something. <I'm not sure I really want to know what it is.>

Cut to AT, typing at her computer.

JC: Chrissy Giorgio has come to believe her alien visitation was a message to improve the condition of her own world, and she has devoted herself to this goal wholeheartedly. <And yet she has yet to remove herself from the planet. Obviously she isn't quite that wholehearted about the goal. Even more frightening is that she might meet up with someone equally annoying and produce a bunch of Ubertwits. (shudder)>

There is another rattling on the window. She goes to it and opens it to reveal Hsap standing outside.

AT: [unenthusiastically bordering on actively hostile] Oh, it's you. What do you want?

Hsap: I just wanted to tell you I still love you. <God you are pathetic>

AT: Love. Is that all you men think about? <Sheesh! As much as I hate the term I'm starting to think the term "feminazi" might apply. Maybe we won't have to worry about Ubertwits after all.> [She closes her window. Hsap's eyes tear up. <The poor sap.>

JC: [voiceover] Then there are those who care not about extraterrestrials, searching for meaning in other human beings. Rare or lucky are those who find it. [Hsap leaves.] For although we may not be alone in the universe, in our own separate ways on this planet, we are all… alone.

So what the bleep did happen to those kids in Klass County that night? No one seems to know. JS seeing Lord Kinbote seems to give some credence to ROK's account of things. Especially in light of the aliens being air force personnel one of whom constantly chants "This is not happening! This is not happening!" So is this phony experimental plane crash part of a cover-up to hide the existence of Lord Kinbote? Exactly what is going on here? No one seems to know.

Why haven't the men in black come barging though JC's door. Could it be that JC is in cahoots with those who seek to bury the truth about extraterrestrials? Or is JC just some patsy whose book is being allowed to be published because it would discredit the truth seekers like M?

Those men in black are some hypnotists. They can get people who don't even submit to hypnosis. I owe some money from my student loans I wonder if I could borrow them to use on a few people. You are feeling very sleepy, very relaxed. Rainey owes you no money. In fact YOU owe HER money.

I love that part where M and MIB1 face off. That line about thinking M crazy if he described the meeting. Too funny. LOL!

I love Sailor!Scully. They should show her more often. Heh heh!

The last shot of DetM just standing there looking confused with a parting bleep is classic.

Why does JC keep a gun in his office? Is he afraid that the men in black might come after him? Of course he could just be trying to protect himself. Not for nothing but JC's office is a dump! You'd think that someone who had some successful books could afford something less squalid. Why is it that so many people in the X-Files universe keep themselves in such low budget offices anyway? THAT should be an X-File.

Final stats:

Number of times a question is answered with "How the hell should I know?": 3
Number of spaceships making an appearance: 2
Number of times Jose Chung grossed me out: 3
Number of (gratuitous?) Krycek mentions: 2
Number of times Mulder calls Scully by her last name: 3
Number of times Scully calls Mulder by his last name: 7
Number of death threats issued or alleged to have been issued: 3

Detective Manners' Filth-o-meter: number of expletives bleeped or blanked: 11

Until my next deconstruction…

Finis